The mountain trail is steep and rocky and, in some places, slippery, barely there, and quite sheer. Basically, it is quite difficult to navigate. But since we’ve come in summer, and have traversed this road before, we still make it to the Librarian’s hut without anyone suffering any serious injuries. Myrddin is more than a little upset by the lack of most grasses as we get higher up. The shrubbery up here isn’t to his liking at all, but Faladel and Ethiel seem quite content with their lot. I, for one, would be content if it wasn’t for something Faladel had said shortly after we hit the more barren sections of mountain.

“Briareth,” He had said. “I’ve been thinking things through, and I wanted to thank you again for what you said about me needing to be selfish. It really touched me.”

“No need to thank me.” I had grinned at him, “It’s just part of what I do, spout a lot of nonsense and a few gems when needed.”

“No,” Faladel had replied, giving the topic his normal serious consideration. “No, I don’t think you would have thought to say that in the past, Briareth. It used to be that you didn’t pick up on my emotions at all, let alone know the perfect thing to say.” I’d opened my mouth to protest but he continued hurriedly, “No offense meant, but you weren't the person I’d go to if I needed emotional support. Lately however, it feels like you’re paying more attention to the people around you instead of to your crazy chains of thoughts.”

I’d stared at him in uncomprehending shock, and Myrddin had nearly stumbled on a stone. Faladel had turned to look at us. “Is everything alright Briareth?”

“Umm… Yep. Completely fine!” I’d replied as my brain was set awhirl in a new mess of thoughts.

That thought-filled hurricane had bugged me the rest of the trip up here. Surely I hadn’t changed that much. I would have noticed, right? Somebody else would have mentioned it to me before now. I mean, I know I would have mentioned it if I had noticed it. But does that just prove what Faladel had asked? That I’m becoming more observant, and less spontaneous?

I don’t want to be less spontaneous!

As I dismount Myrddin, I stroke his nose and whisper to him. “If I ever get too boring and predictable, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?” Myrddin nickers, and I can’t tell if he’s assenting or laughing at me. I wrinkle my nose at him in response, and follow Faladel into the familiar, tiny ramshackle hut. The sign outside still reads “No Charlatans, but adventurers welcome” in scratchy handwriting. The driftwood exterior only looks marginally more stable than last time, but the interior has changed completely. Instead of being dusty and abandoned, with only a few signs of life, it is now warm and inviting. The bed is made; the floor is swept. There is a small dresser at the foot of the bed that balances a vase of flowers and a bowl of dice and small stones. A fire blazes away in the hearth, and the smell of baked potatoes fills the air. The hole that leads into the depths of the mountain with the actual library is covered by a magnificent tapestry depicting a group of people fighting an enormous creature that has a single large eye and extra eyes on the ends of its multiple tentacles. The table is set for three, as if expecting us. And, rocking in a small chair, is the librarian. His long hair is in an elaborate braid that leaves out only his bangs, his robes are red and purple with a silver embroidery that looks suspiciously like his hair color, and he’s crocheting a doily– doing a quite good job of it actually!

“I hope you brought your dice this time,” He says without looking up at us, “Because I need you both to roll strength saving throws.”

Faladel, quickly removes his dice from his pocket. We’d been expecting this, so I’d been sure to pack some, but mine are still in my backpack and while Faladel tosses his simple wooden die onto the floor between us and the Librarian, I fumble around in my bag and am knocked over by a curious Myrddin who stubbornly tries to follow me inside. Faladel manages to stand his ground however, and doesn’t fall over.

“Excuse you!” The Librarian says angrily, pointing his crocheting needle towards us– no, wait, past us, “didn’t you read the sign! It says, plain as day, no charlatans! So, go on, shoo! There’s nothing for your lot here!” Myrddin retreats glumly and I stare after him curiously. No way is he a charlatan, perhaps the Librarian has mistaken him for some other horse? The door slams right in front of me, causing me to jump slightly.

“Excellent, now that that nasty business is over with,” The Librarian’s silver eyes sparkle delightedly. “Would anyone like a cup of tea?”

After having us all sit down and pouring tea for Faladel, and himself– I had declined– the Librarian inspects our dice with a highly critical eye. He shaves the edges slightly with a far too sharp butter knife and re-carves the tiny little numbers in them, before dunking them all in his teacup and removing them one by one. Each emerges looking like it has had a lovely resin finish added. Faladel’s set now has a dark reddish tinge to the simple wood, and mine appears slightly greener. “So you can tell your sets apart.” The Librarian explains, handing them back to us and sipping from his teacup. I blink, trying and failing not to wonder if he’ll get splinters in his tongue.

He waves off my worries with a brisk flick of his hand. “Oh, I’ll be fine Briareth Herbalar. Now what are you and Faladel Mithrandir doing here? I saw what you did with the peace treaty, it was quite a nice kettle of fish, but I didn’t expect you back for at least another year. That’s when the fun is really supposed to begin.” He sips his tea, frowns, and clicks his fingers, sparking a flame that he holds underneath the cup.

“Wait– did you just read my mind?” I ask at the same time as Faladel says “Why, what happens next year?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” the Librarian says, and I’m not quite sure who he’s responding to. “Please, if you want anything more than tea, roll those D20s for persuasion. Don’t worry, I’ll calculate your new modifiers. You each have leveled up a bit since we last met.”

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I roll, and Faladel rolls. The dice bounce and spin, clacking prettily against the solid oaken table. I remember that higher numbers are better and cross my fingers hopefully. When both dice finally stop, they each have twelves. I frown. This won’t be easy.

The Librarian raises an eyebrow. “Not great, but you both have acceptable modifiers, so it will be enough. Now, are either of you going to answer my question, or are you going to continue to focus on things you cannot change?” Faladel glances up at him, looking startled, and I jerk my disappointed gaze away from the dice.

“I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten the question.” Faladel says, “Could you remind me?”

The Librarian smiles, but with his teeth sharpened to points, it feels more threatening than kindly. “But of course, Princeling, I was asking why you are here.”

I break in, eager to tell my tale of woeful boredom and explain my brilliant thinking. “Well first, it was all my idea. You see, I remembered what you said about leading people to the outside world previously. It was Smay and HeadMaster Haulding that you guided, right? It took me ages to remember that you had said his first name– Morthose– and to also figure out that when you said he was dead you didn’t necessarily mean dead-dead, because Smay was ‘dead’ but wasn’t really dead because we met him after you all traveled together, and he was certainly alive then.”

The Librarian stares at me, sharp teeth still bared in a smile, and raises one eyebrow, and my chattering dies off for a second. That grin is really intimidating. “Back on topic though. I was terribly bored because peace means a lot less top secret super dangerous missions, so I started looking into traveling to the world outside our own. What it would take, how I could convince the King and Queen.” I am struck by a blast of brilliance and improvise. “I remembered what you said about both elves and dwarves running out of food and needing more land in previous times of peace and used that to convince them. Since Faladel also needed a break from court life, and it could help everyone as a whole, the King decided to fund the expedition.” Increase the importance of some facts, decrease the importance of others, lying really isn't that difficult.

“Go on.” The Librarian prods, and, after a quick breath– goodness those baked potatoes smell good– I continue. “So Faladel and I set out to get back here. No robbers this time around, not a lot of trouble at all actually. And we were hoping you could show us the way to that outside world that both you and Smay spoke of.”

The Librarian sips his tea quietly, behind him the fire crackles and a log falls with a muffled thump. His silver eyes appear to be looking at me, but they don’t reflect me, they don’t reflect anything. “It is strange.” He begins, “That you should feel bored in times such as these. Please, roll me a Persuasion and a separate Deception check.

I flinch internally, but comply. How did he notice? Do I have a tic I don’t know about, or is this more of the mind reading? Frankly, probably the mind reading. In my line of work, someone would have noticed a tic sooner and hopefully mentioned it.

My first roll is a respectable 17, and my second is an 8. The Librarian wrinkles his nose, but doesn’t call me out on my lie, which I suppose means I succeeded even with an 8. Looking up at us, he says “Your memory is impressive, Briareth Herbalar. I wasn’t expecting you to make the connection with Morthose Haulding all these years later. I just have one question for you. Why didn’t you ask him for help? You were one of his pupils, right?” From a pocket in his tunic, he pulls out a small pouch. It’s so tiny he can only fit a few fingers in the top. Reaching inside it, he pulls out a thin scroll that unravels to a paper nearly the length of my forearm. “Yes, that’s what it says here. Former student at Morthose’s school.”

I stare at him, flabbergasted both by the fact that he has a file on me, and by the fact that I didn’t think of that sooner.

“It doesn’t matter if you didn’t consider it.” The Librarian says airly. “It wouldn’t have worked anyway. He doesn’t do things like that anymore; being dead takes it’s toll on a player, you see.”

“I thought we already established that he was still alive?” I ask, confused about the player bit, but putting that aside as a whole different conversation. I don’t think I want to know about his relationship habits.

“Alive to you doesn’t mean alive to me.” the Librarian says shortly. “And that’s all I’m allowed to say on the subject.” He pauses for a second, lifts his teacup to his lips again, freezes, and then exclaims “The Potatoes!” Leaping to his feet, he knocks over the chair in his haste to get to the fire. His purple robes stream and flutter out behind him as he runs over to the hearth and summoning tongs out of nowhere begins to pluck through the ashes.

“Hot! Hot! Hot!” He hisses softly as he juggles three potatoes, still wrapped in their skins and brings them over to the table. Placing one on each of our plates he succinctly dumps his fingers in his now cooled tea. “Ahh…” He sighs. “Much better.” Glancing up at us through his long silver bangs, he says “Go ahead, they don’t bite. You’re supposed to bite them instead.”

Faladel and I pick up our silverware and, after glancing at each other dubiously, cut open our potatoes. Mine has the normal potatoey goodness, but already has a pad of butter, and some unfamiliar mushrooms inside it. Faladel’s has what look to be peppers and onions with his, and the Librarians turns out to be not a potato at all– but a sweet potato. He adds something that smells like cinnamon to it, and hums happily as he bites down. Seeing how contented he is with his meal, I hesitantly put a bite of mine in my mouth, consider the strange taste carefully, then add a bit of salt and take another bite. Faladel doesn’t seem to feel the need to add condiments. Then he pulls a die from his own pack and rolls it. It is a strange die, bone white with numbers that look like they were burned on to it. His roll results in a 3, and his shoulders sag.

“Briareth Herbalar” He looks up at me, an apologetic expression on his face.”I need you to roll a constitution saving throw.” I glance at him, shocked. Another saving throw? Obligingly I reach to roll the dice, but my hands can’t quite seem to find them.

“Briareth?!” Faladel says worriedly. His voice sounds slightly distorted, and it’s rather funny how it echos. I hear my own broken giggle before I feel it come out and I blink to clear my eyes. Finally, I snag the die. But I can’t seem to put my hands together to shake it. Fumbling I feel it drop through my fingers.

“What have you done to him?!” Faladel shouts at the Librarian, but as my eyes go dark I only see his sheepish grin with those ominously pointed teeth on full display. I can’t even see his eyes. Something’s wrong with me. I realize, my foggy brain finally catching up as everything goes black.

The last thing I hear is the Librarian’s distorted, echo-ey voice saying. “I must have cooked the wrong mushrooms.”