Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman, Dragons of Autumn Twilight The dwarf clasped his old friend close for a brief instant, then, remembering his dignity, squirmed and freed himself from the half-elf’s embrace. He held open his arms and, before the dwarf could stop him, engulfed Flint in a hug that lifted him off the ground. “The same.” The newcomer’s bearded face split in a wide grin. “Tanis?” said Flint hesitantly as the man neared. But no elf in the world of Krynn could grow a beard He was dressed in soft leather, carefully tooled in the intricate designs the elves loved. A longbow was slung over one shoulder and a sword hung at his left side. All the dwarf could see of the man’s face beneath a green hood was tan skin and a brownish-red beard.
The man’s walk was marked by an easy grace-an elvish grace, Flint would have said yet the man’s body had the thickness and tight muscles of a human, while the facial hair was definitely humankind’s.
Standing, Flint drew back into the shadow of a tall pine to see better. He thought he saw the figure of a man striding up the path.
