"The Tower of the Elephant" was one of the first Howard tales I read, and probably the one that got me hooked on the big lug. So I suppose I'm a little "biased" as well, though it may be impossible to escape bias towards an eighty year old character who's wormed his way into pop culture about as deeply as any SF&F character can hope to.
But I think there's something particularly special about "The Tower of the Elephant." If your only exposure to Howard's Cimmerian has been in ripping yarns replete with half-naked vixens and the spray of gore, or even trashier pastiches, or, god forbid, the movies, then I think you might be surprised by this story. Conversely, if this excellent reading did nothing for you, it's safe to say that you and Conan were not meant for one another, and you can happily go your separate ways. The barbarian waits for no one.
One thing that stands out to me about this story is the inexperience of Conan. The youth in the loincloth is in over his head breaking into the tower, and it's fairly clear that without Taurus's aid (and ultimate sacrifice) that he would've been captured or killed a few times over before getting to the treasure he sought. He's impulsive, distracted by shiny baubles, and he doesn't understand how "civilized men" think. But what he does have is strength, agility, and maybe most importantly, a barbaric instinct. That's "barbaric" in the sense of "uncivilized," not "cruel." Conan, for all his hulking masculinity, is to some extent best understood as an embodiment for Howard's attacks on the idea of civilization, on a social order that believes itself higher than others because it has invented new ways to hide its evils under the guise of good. Witness Conan's remark: "Civilized men are more discourteous than savages because they know they can be impolite without having their skulls split, as a general thing." The battle in a nutshell.
Compare Conan and Taurus. Would the Prince of Thieves have spared the alien Yogah? We are led to believe not. Taurus desired power just as much as the wicked priest Yara, and, it seems to me, would have no qualms about taking Yara's place as torturer and slaver if it meant he got what he wanted. But Conan? He is "savage" but has no desire to see another being tormented for personal gain. His actions at the beginning mirror those at the end: he kills a "woman stealer" and he kills an alien stealer. His sense of internal justice does not answer to external laws.
And then there's Yogah himself. My copy of the story contained
this illustration by Mark Schultz, which I think perfectly captures the bizarre sadness of that scene. Normally, you'd expect Conan to be
battling transcosmic demons, not listening to their heart-felt, depressing life stories. And, yes, like some have mentioned, I do think the Monologue of the Elephant goes on for longer than it needs to. But what's happening as this being talks about what it has seen in its incredibly long life is the revelation that civilization is not the final, highest state of humanity -- merely
a state. Empires rise and fall and rise, oceans swallow whole continents, life persists and adapts.
The story doesn't end with a triumphant huzzah, bloody swords raised over dead bodies, but "[Conan] turned back uncertainly, to stare at the cryptic tower he had just left. Was he bewitched and enchanted? Had he dreamed all that had seemed to have passed?" Yara is dead, but killing him does not undo his actions, which for me lingered over the end of the story and afterwards. Yes, there is plenty of fantasizing and escapism in "The Tower of the Elephant," but I think there's more going on there than
just that, as in the best of the Conan tales.
I'd be remiss if I didn't mention a couple other stories that might appeal to people who liked this one and want more like it. There is a lot of crap out there. But if you want stories similar to this in content and theme, try: "Beyond the Black River," "Red Nails," or "Queen of the Black Coast." Anyway, that's all I have to say for now.