The rest of that day is spent packing extra supplies and resting up before the next leg of our journey. The Librarian is happy to help us after Briareth rolled a 20 for persuasion, pulling supplies from hidden rooms all over the Library and his tiny hut. After one more day of rest, the Librarian uses some strange magic to teleport us, Myrddin, and all our stuff, almost all the way to the front lines. Apparently, his spell was limited by distance, which is why he couldn’t teleport us directly to the dwarven castle’s Great Hall, but I am still more than impressed. He probably cut over a month off our travel time with that one spell, although it appears to have taken a lot out of him. At first I suppose that this is why elves didn’t travel like this all the time. Too exhausting. But then Briareth asks Faladel what the spell the Librarian had used was, and when Faladel can’t answer, I realize that they don’t use it because they probably don’t know it.

“I have no clue what that illusion spell was either.” Faladel admits. “I’ve never read or heard of anything close to that powerful. It’s probably some sort of relic of the old Elven capital, Meyan.”

“That city that we saw images of?” I clarify.

“Yes. Well, probably yes.” Faladel answers. “The Librarian could have just been messing with us, using the images of a different city or an entirely made up one. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“You’re just upset that he wouldn’t let you talk.” Briareth claims, grinning. Faladel opens his mouth, probably in protest, but I quickly change the subject before they can get into another bickering match.

“The architecture of that old city was really interesting.”

“Well we don’t always live in trees.” Briareth replies, shrugging. “Are you really that surprised by it?”

“Not that, it’s just that the palace’s structural layout and building style reminded me of the dwarven palace. When I was first enlisted, my training was completed with castle duty. The way the walls arched to a ceiling, the stones interlocked in patterns on the floor, the hallways’ paths through the castle, it felt like a mirror.”

“Huh…” Faladel walks in silence for a little bit, thinking. “Maybe they had the same designer so that visitors wouldn’t get confused?” He eventually offers “I noticed there were dwarven diplomats there, so if the layout was similar it could help prevent people getting lost if it was a very large building.”

“Or they were just the same as a sign of solidarity,” Briareth offers, “or they had the same designer who had a creative block and couldn’t come up with a second design, or, or, or. There are tons of reasons why they’d be the same, none of them really important.” He finishes.

We continue walking, the sun rising steadily in front of us, and setting against the mountains behind us. Four days pass, and we gradually adjust our course, heading a bit more south so our trip to the capital will be more direct when we turn ourselves over. The conversation continues to be stifled though, with only brief– almost forced –moments of mirth. It’s so much more tense and awkward than it was before we visited the Librarian. It’s almost a relief when we meet with scouts for an elven encampment, a reaction that I’ve certainly never felt for elf soldiers before.

They’re practically openly hostile to me, which surprises me. It really shouldn’t have, after all we are at war, but I suppose the casualness of how I was treated at the capital and how the Librarian received me so warmly threw me off guard. Even the bandits, who’d been the first elves to treat me with open hostility since I entered their territory, at least treated Faladel and Briareth the same way. Suddenly being discriminated against because of my species feels jarring. All those suspicious glares, being mocked behind hands for my height, literally having people talk over me and ignoring me in discussions that I should have been involved in, someone went so far as to suggest I should sleep in chains so I wouldn’t run off! I was livid with frustration by the end of the night.

And the most aggravating part? Faladel and Briareth were treated the opposite way. The elves didn’t just respect them, they were actually worried for them. People who barely knew them kept querying about their health, encouraging them to eat up, and wondering if this mission was too dangerous, or, for Faladel specifically, too trauma provoking. “We can’t lose you again, Prince.” Was an often repeated phrase.

“Nonsense. The kingdom can survive without me. Meanwhile, if I succeed, we won’t just survive, we’ll finally be able to thrive.” Faladel’s repetition of some version of these words appeased some, but not others.

“But we need the Mithrandirs.”

“You make a far better future king than anyone else who showed desires for the throne in the twenty years you were gone. These past two years have proved it.”

“The king and queen won’t be able to suffer your loss a second time.”

“It’s better if someone else were to go in your place.”

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With each reply, I could almost see the stress building up on his face. I thought he might go along with them, abandon Briareth and I and have someone take his place. But instead, he just smiles and simply tells the people who continue to badger him.

“This is something I have to do. Not just for you, but also for me.”

That shuts them up.

But as the sun goes down, I notice him wandering outside his tent, mumbling quietly to himself. When I walk up to him, I see bags under his eyes, stress wrinkles on his forehead, a worried frown, and I realize something. He can’t sleep. Although he’d appeared so collected earlier, the weight of their words, the stress of this mission, it’s taking a severe toll on him. He seems like the type of person who’ll always blame himself. Who wants to plan everything out, work through every step before taking action. Based on the background he’s had, constantly preparing for the weight of a throne, having people watching him all the time, a need for perfection in every action, it’s no wonder he developed that sort of personality. But in this situation where our basic back up plan is ‘improvise.’ and he’s supposed to take a pivotal role? No wonder he’s stressed!

“Breathe Faladel.” I say, he startles, like a surprised horse. I reach up to touch his shoulder, trying to speak to him like I would to a spooked farm poney. A low, calm, soothing voice. “Focus on what you can physically control, and leave everything else up to everyone else. You, Briareth, and I are a team. We can take care of ourselves, you just have to keep up a persona of confidence till after we’ve bluffed. The future after that will take care of itself.” Faladel glances at me, visibly forcing himself to relax, a half smile coming onto his face. His eyes don’t smile though, so I try for a bit of gruff humor.

“You can burst into tears, or whatever you elves do to cope with stressful situations after we’ve lied to their faces. By then, more than likely, it won’t matter.”

Faladel offers a soft chuckle. It doesn’t last long, but it’s there. I turn away satisfied, and head back to my tent. I’m not great at emotional support, but no one can fault me for trying.

My last thought before I fall asleep is that I put the dwarven court in the “they” category and grouped Faladel, Briareth and I in a “we” category. Even though the other elves didn’t seem to feel that way at all. Even though I never thought I would. I’ve somehow grown close to those two over the past weeks.

In the morning, Faladel seems a bit better. It doesn’t look like he’s slept at all. But I note with satisfaction that his smile feels more genuine as he says goodbye to the people we’ve met. Briareth however, is absolutely devastated. Not because he’ll miss the soldiers, not because he isn’t looking forward to the adventure ahead– I’m almost certain he feels the opposite –but because he’s having to say goodbye to Myrddin.

There are lots of tears on all sides. Briareth, Myrddin, even some of the spectators get into it. Promises are made that he will survive and come back to Heronmal for her. Honestly, I’m not sure whether to laugh, cry at the ridiculousness, or just turn away from it all and ride ahead on my own. As it is, I just sit back stoically on the pony the elves reluctantly provided me, and wait for the waterworks to be over with.

At first the ride together was pleasant. It was certainly a lot better than the atmosphere at the elf outpost. But after four days of hard riding and no sign of the dwarves, even though we should be in dwarf territories by now, Faladel has worked up all of his stress again. And Briareth is still depressed at having to part with Myrddin. Apparently he doesn’t connect with every horse that easily, and his new mount has -in his own words- “no spunk”.

So, to try and distract them both, I start spouting off nonsense.

“You know dwarves used to have magic too? Not just sorcery but the elven version of magic.”

“Yeah.” Briareth says, confused. “The Librarian mentioned as much. What about it?”

“Your magic comes from within, yes?” I press, still not quite sure where I’m going with this.

“Yes…” Briareth trails off. “Sorry, if you’re trying to make a point I’m not getting it.”

“I think I do!” Faladel exclaims, finally beginning to pay attention to the present again instead of worrying about the future. “you’re wondering if you have any magical potential, right Balderk?” Briareth glances my way, intrigued. Faladel’s excitement is probably spreading to him.

“Uhh… Sure I guess.” I say. I mean, if it works?

“I’ve memorized a couple of ways to test.” Faladel is now very excited. “I don’t have the magical power to pull them off, but I can teach Briareth how to do it when we set up camp for tonight!”

“Great.” I say, more than a little lackluster. I’m kinda curious about the results, but not at all enthusiastic to have a klutz like Briareth try some weird magic-detecting technique he’s never used before on me.

When we’re done with supper, Faladel teaches Briareth the words and gestures to use, and tells me my part of the spell. It takes a couple of tries to work, and feels more than a little strange to me, but eventually a purple light glows in my palm. Faladel shrieks in delight and then proudly announces that I have above average potential.

“So I’m certainly no dud, but I’m also not a genius the likes of which the world has never seen.” I summarize.

“Yep!” Faladel is way too happy with this. “If we can succeed in making peace, you could come back to elvish territories and train your magic there! I know a couple of schools who would be delighted to teach the first dwarf foreign exchange student in our known history.”

“Sorry Faladel,” I say, standing up and making my way over to my bedroll. “I already have plans for peacetime. I’m going back to my farm and my family.”

“Not everyone is as obsessed with magic as you are, Faladel.” Briareth grins as he heads off to bed. Faladel stays up a little longer, thinking his own thoughts, before he joins us.

In the morning we find a path, fresh hoofprints marking it, heading back west and a little north. It’s the first sign of sentient life we’ve seen in days. Following it, we reach a dwarven campsite, and turn ourselves in.