THE KING OF ELFLAND’S DAUGHTER
supporting the presence of any magic that was the equal of his.
And Alveric could not believe that such a king cared so much for the magic he had in his old black scabbard.
“It is his way,” she said.
And then he would not believe that he had waved away Elfland.
“He has the power,” said she.
And still Alveric would face this terrible king and all the powers he had; but wizard and witch had warned him that he could not go with his sword, and how go unarmed through the grizly wood against the palace of wonder? For to go there with any sword from the anvils of men was but to go unarmed.
“Mother Witch,” he cried. “May I come no more to Elfland?”
And the longing and grief in his voice touched the witch’s heart and moved it to magical pity.
“You shall go,” she said.
He stood there half despair in the mournful evening, half dreams of Lirazel. While the witch from under her cloak drew forth a small false weight which once she had taken away from a seller of bread.
“Draw this along the edge of your sword,” she said, “all the way from hilt to point, and it will disenchant the blade, and the King will never know what sword is there.”
“Will it still fight for me?” said Alveric.
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