I go back to the stairs and get off at a random floor. Wandering through the shelves of boxes, I glance at the labels, wondering if I can decipher them. They seem to be written in a script I think I’ve seen before but can’t quite remember. It bugs me. I try to open one of the boxes randomly, and am surprised when it doesn’t even budge. Smay wasn’t exaggerating, these boxes really are strong. I take a closer look at one of the boxes, running my finger across it's brown surface. The sides of the box are smooth, like polished stone, the top is dusty like I would expect, but the corners are strange. It’s almost like they are sealed with something. It looks like a thin wax coating, but it doesn’t feel like wax. The box doesn’t have a keyhole but Smay must have some way to open it, otherwise the boxes would be useless.

I go to the only exit and entrance to this room to take another look at the room hoping to find some clues to how he does it. When I get there I look at the room as a whole. I must have missed something right? There are torches, rows of shelves, and a paper that looks like the one Smay was looking at earlier. Nothing else. I walk over to the paper but it only contains a map of the area and more of the cryptic symbols.

I must be missing something, what’s the key to this puzzle? I feel my face fall into a frown. Smay has to have some way of opening them in a hurry. Smay is a dragon, perhaps it is something he naturally has. Talons? No, he insinuated that I would be able to open it. The only thing similar to talons I might have would be a weapon, and I told him that I was an escaped prisoner; so he could guess that I wouldn’t have one. I don’t have wings either, and I’m not even sure how that would open a box. Nor can I breathe fire!

The torches have fire though, how does he light those torches? Does he light them himself? I can’t see him spending hours in the dark rubbing stones together hoping for a spark, so the torches are probably dragonfire. If he is the only dragon, it would make sense that dragon fire is a rare ingredient. He said a rare ingredient would open them. If I use the torches to melt the seals... Well, it's worth a shot.

I go to one of the torches and reach up for it, only now realizing that it is out of my reach. I’m not small by Elf standards, but these torches are dragon height. If I stack the boxes I might be able to reach it though; although if I can’t lift most of them, I won’t be that surprised. I always tried to skip as much of the strength training as I could when I was in the army. I’d much rather do the decoding regime, or archery, or deer riding, practically anything but the strength training. Father used to always scold me for that. He would say ‘Son, a prince and a King must be able to practice all elements of war and peace, that we might have empathy for all those under our command. You may think some of these things are beneath you, but one day you’ll be glad you learned their basics.’

I smile softly to myself remembering what came next. How I commented that my latest job, cleaning out the streets of the market during after-hours, could have no practical use for a prince. Then Dad had said quietly, ‘It may have no practical use currently, but later you’ll know what the poorest must go through to survive. Let's say an imaginary streetcleaner begs you to help him. He has seven kids, seven kids and a lovely wife who he has been trying to feed on just his paycheck from cleaning the streets. You now can realize what he has been going through every day, without thanks from any merchants, maybe grabbing a small broken toy to take home for his many kids. Let's say he became desperate and took out an unfair deal from a mean moneylender. The moneylender demanded him to pay his debts in full and will take the streetcleaner’s home if he can’t pay him back. What do you do? The streetcleaner is begging for help and needs a decision within the next three days or he’s out on the streets with all his children.’

‘Well,’ I had responded, ‘is there a loophole that might allow us to help him?’

‘Why would you even want to help him?’

‘Because his family is in dire straits and they need help. He’s doing all that he can, but it's still not enough.’

‘How do you know that he’s doing all that he can? How do you know that he isn’t a cheapskate trying to take advantage of the royal family’s generosity?’

Only then did I understand. ‘Because I’ve done the same thing.’ I said. Stunned at the realization, I turned to him. He smiled at me.

I mentally extract myself from the memory before it turns sour. Most of my memories tend to turn sour if I reminisce for too long upon them. They all end up at the war, and then the battles, and then imprisonment for twenty-two years.

Now where was I? Oh yes, stacking the boxes. I choose two from a bottom shelf near me, drag them closer, stack them, then climb on top and grab the torch. It smells worse than Briareth after the cat-that-was-a-skunk incident. I need to come up with a better name for that.

Since I already have two boxes out, I decide to try to open them first. I get off the boxes, unstack them, then melt the seal around the heavier one. I grin, watching the wax run down the side of the box as I hold the torch nearby. After I’m done the lid comes off easily and I stare surprisedly into the box. Why would Smay keep a box full of dirt? How is dirt valuable?

I touch it; it feels like normal dirt. Is Smay crazy? I should probably open the other box before assuming anything. I quickly melt the seal around the edges of the next box, open it up, and glance inside. This box only contains a bow and a quiver of arrows on top of some straw. I plop down on the floor feeling very confused. Why would Smay go to such lengths to protect dirt and a bow? He did say that he collected other valuables as well, like one of a kind cards. But dirt? A single bow? Unless either of them are magical, that seems like a waste.

Well the dirt could be magical, I suppose. Maybe it's how Smay grows his garden. But I don’t understand how that would work. A magical bow however, makes sense. Magic can’t replace talent. It won’t help someone aim a bow, but maybe it could make your quiver never be empty, or alert the owner if it is stolen, or leave some sort of residue that would allow you to find your arrows easily. A magic bow could do a lot of things. I lean closer to the bow trying to get a better look without touching it. There are slight indentations in the wood that look as though they were roughly carved in.

Of course, it could be that neither the bow or the dirt are magical. They could just be a prank to be played on any potential thieves by Smay. He seems like the type that would find that funny.

I continue reflecting on the oddity of a box full of dirt and a bow and a quiver of arrows being thought of as valuable and wondering why that might be for what seems like ages. I could open other boxes, but decide not to. I’ve been down here for a while. Briareth could come in at any minute to announce–

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

My thoughts are interrupted as Briareth actually comes racing in eagerly calling “Faladel! Faladel where are you? Ah there you are. Suppers ready Faladel! You’ll never guess what we made! Ooh! What’s that?”

“Hello, Briareth.” I respond calmly, “Smay can probably tell you what it is better than I can. To my eyes it’s just a box of dirt, a bow, and some arrows. By the way, while we’re still alone, did you know that this cave system was inhabited by members of supposedly extinct species?”

“Uh, no? Why would you think that?”

“Because you don’t seem to be noticeably shocked by any of this. Not Smay, not these supposed pseudodragons, not even the bats."

Before Briareth can provide an answer, Smay appears in the doorway closest to the stairs behind him. “Are all Elves as fleet of foot as Briareth here?” He pants. Then, noticing the open boxes next to me. “Not bad, you managed to get some of them open; how did you figure that out? Well, nevermind that now, it’s suppertime.”

“Aww Smay come on, tell us what the dirt’s for please? I helped you make supper after all.” Briareth begs hopefully. Then his belly lets out a loud growl betraying him.

“No, no, no.” Smay asserts, “Supper first, then maybe logic. If I’m not too full.”

“How about a story during supper?” I suggest.

Smay shrugs in response. “Fine, if you don’t mind me sometimes talking with my mouth full.”

We all head out of the storage area and back up the stairs to a new room, presumably the dining room. I feel the hairs on my arms prick up in the frigid air as I glance around at the table, chairs, and counter. I can see my breath in front of me.

“Smay,” I ask, “Where are we on the mountainside?”

“We are about halfway up, there should be a glacier outside, if it hasn’t moved already. There are more tunnels above us but I don’t really use those. They get cold at night.”

“You mean this isn’t cold?” Briareth says teeth chattering. Smay only smiles.

“It’s not really cold for me, but if you wish I can light a fire.”

“Yes please!” Briareth grins eagerly in anticipation for the coming warmth.

Smay breathes onto the fireplace. It isn’t like his normal breath. It sounds different as if it is coming from a different place entirely, somewhere deeper inside him is producing the flames.

“Wow,” I whisper softly as I watch the colorful flames dance in the fireplace. The room is suddenly filled with warmth and light. Smay grins and goes into the kitchen to bring out supper, sending Briareth to set the table. I sit waiting as Briareth comes back from the kitchen with three plates and cups. Then he goes back out and comes back with water.

As he pours water into all the cups he comments. “I really wish that I had roller skates right now, you know, like the waiters in the castle back in Heronmal.”

“You do know they have to practice for months before they are allowed to carry anything right?” I ask him.

“But they look so cool!” he replies enthusiastically.

“It might be cool, but you'd slip, fall on your back, and send the plates full of food flying if you haven’t practiced. I’ve tried.” Briareth ignores my warning.

“Do you think Smay has some I could practice on somewhere?”

“Maybe,” I reply, sighing, “but I doubt they’re your size.”

“Ah well.” Briareth replies disappointedly. But then he perks up again. “Now close your eyes Faladel. I want you to be surprised when supper comes in.”

I hear Smay say from the kitchen “Are his eyes closed yet Briareth? Make sure he isn’t peeking.”

“I don’t peek!” I say indignantly.

“Check Briareth. I always find that those who are the most miffed at being accused are also the most likely to actually be at fault.”

“Not peeking.” Briareth reports from somewhere near my head.

The duo keep chatting as they bring the food in. It’s spicy smell reaches my nose. I thought Smay had said that he would tone down on the spices. Maybe this is toned down. Anyways, Briareth will probably like this, as he likes spicy things according to what he’s told me. Maybe I shouldn’t have let him dictate how much spice an Elf can handle.

“Shall we prepare it for him so he doesn’t know what’s inside it?” Briareth asks.

“Yes, that will add to the surprise when he bites into it.” Smay answers.

“Can I open my eyes yet?” I ask.

“No!” They both chorus at once. Then they continue muttering to each other.

But in a couple of minutes Smay says. “Now you can open your eyes.”

I open them and look down at the plate in front of me. On it is a neatly wrapped tortilla that looks sort of like a burrito. I believe that I’m supposed to pick it up and bite into it. Smay and Briareth meanwhile are serving themselves from the counter where Smay has put the food. I watch as Briareth serves himself a tortilla as well and puts some sort of meat and peppers mixture onto the tortilla. They seem busy so I try to dissect my mysterious tortilla to see what is inside. Smay moves like lightning. One moment he’s next to Briareth serving himself, the next thing he’s over here, a clawed tallon stopping me from opening my wrap.

“Ah, ah, ah. Naughty naughty. Don’t ruin the surprise. Bite into it!” I sigh. No use trying to trick a dragon then.

“Fine. Here I go.” Briareth, who has finished making his tortilla, comes over to watch. He is grinning unabashedly.

I bite into the tortilla, chew for a bit and then swallow. I taste some meat, the tortilla, cheese, sour cream, some peppers that add a delightful crunch, and tons of spices.

“Hot.” I gasp. “Briareth! How much spice did you let Smay add?!”

“Just five tablespoons. Of each in his cupboard.” Briareth is grinning. “Do you want some water to help cool it down Faladel?”

“You and I both know that water only makes the spices taste hotter you little monkey!”

Smay laughs out loud. “You two are very entertaining. This is the most excitement I’ve had in decades!”

I glare at Briareth who is still grinning then go over to the serving counter to grab a tortilla to dull the taste of spices. Briareth, who is still looking too pleased with himself, bites into his tortilla, chews, swallows, grins happily, turns to Smay and says. “Story of the bow and the dirt now please?”

“Alright, I owe you that much for your entertainment.” Smay smiles and begins.

“The dirt itself isn’t magical or special in any way, besides that it is very fertile. It is what is to be planted in the dirt that is special. The box that was to the left of that box holds dried mushroom clippings which when planted provide a sort of lamp-like effect that is very good for growing crops. Yes Faladel,” Smay says, seeing my putting-pieces-together look “that is what I use in my gardens.

“Now the bow is a different story. You, Faladel, have probably already guessed that it is magical.” I nod. “But you probably don’t know what it does.” I nod again. “The markings on the upper and lower limbs glow blue when danger is near. Even if the creature that the bow senses hasn’t noticed you yet, if they have harmed you in the past, if they mean you harm, or if you associate them with harm, the bow will glow. I guess it is sort of psychic that way. I can’t figure out what else it might be able to do because I can’t fire it. I’m horrid at archery; I always seem to break bowstrings.” Smay glances at his sharp talons ruefully. “But I have a feeling that the bow does more than just glow in warning.

“Now I know that you are tired from your long journey and will wish to sleep but I have one more thing of importance to talk about with you before I show you to the guest rooms. You see, I can lead you out of the mountain.” Smay folds his claws and smiles. “But I want some things in return.”