When I wake up the next day, Briareth is gone. I briefly wonder where he might be, before I realize that he has probably left to find some sort of breakfast. I stumble out of bed and try to straighten myself up. There is a lit lamp next to some sort of reflective material. I look at myself and frown, unsatisfied. I look- disheveled. I guess being in prison for ages will do that to you. But I can’t appear in Heronmal like this, nobody would recognise me. I try to smooth down my hair a bit, get rid of the bedhead. Really, without a proper brush or basin of water, I can’t do much else. I’ll just have to live with it.

I look very different from when I left to go off to battle all those years ago. Will my parents still recognise me? Will they know me, even though I have changed so much? What if I am so different that they can’t? What would I do then? Where would I go?

I turn away from my reflection. I don’t want to think about this. For now, I still have to get home. I’ll deal with that problem if it comes up. I go downstairs and retrace our path from the night before to the kitchen.

“Faladel there you are! I was just going to send Briareth up to get you.” says Smay. I try to smile and put the fearful thoughts out of my mind. The best I can do is grimace broadly, but Briareth and Smay don’t seem to notice. Briareth is trying to flip a pancake under Smay’s careful tutelage.

“Now see those bubbles around the edge Briareth? Pop one.” Smay says. Briareth obliges, and gasps.

“It’s not filling up!” He exclaims.

“That’s because the underside is cooked. That’s how you know a pancake is ready to flip.” Smay coaches solemnly. I barely hold back a chuckle at Briareth’s stunned face. How is it that these two can banish any gloomy feelings that I have just by being themselves?

Briareth carefully lifts the pancake, balancing it precariously on the spatula, it wobbles ominously.

“And… Flip it! Flip it now!” Calls Smay, flapping his wings in excitement. Briareth obligingly flips it. It flops back into the pan with a resounding hiss of batter on hot metal. Pieces of the batter skidding as they separate from the main pancake. Smay whoops, and Briareth cheers. I’m surprised to find myself laughing at their antics. How do they do it? How do they make me feel better within moments?

Awhile later, time is rather hard to tell under a mountain, we all sit down to a breakfast of pancakes. Briareth looks enormously pleased with himself, and puts three on his plate. I take two, and Smay takes the rest on the platter.

“Wow… you can eat all that?” Briareth looks amazed.

“I am a growing dragon.” Smay says, grabbing the syrup with one taloned claw.

We eat in silence for a while, but then Briareth breaks it.

“What do you want us to do first, Smay? Take back the bow, get the black pepper, or wake the Elf?”

“Do it in that order.” Smay responds through a mouthful of pancake.

“What order?” Briareth asks. Smay gulps down his pancake.

“The order you just said it in. Bow, pepper, Elf.”

“Do you have a map of where we are supposed to go?” I ask Smay.

“Yep, when do you want to leave?” He responds immediately, stabbing another pancake.

“Right after breakfast I was thinking. Best to get this over with. What do you think, Briareth?”

“Let me finish my pancakes, give me a weapon, and I’m ready to raid.” I frown slightly at the word raid. It makes us sound like thieves. Reclaim would be a better term.

“Ah, yes. I would like a weapon too if you don’t mind Smay. These pseudodragons don’t sound very fierce, but I’d feel better with a sword in my hand.”

“They may not seem fierce at first, but they are clever when it comes to hiding their stolen items.” Smay frowns, waving half a pancake on his fork for emphasis. “They have this annoying habit of assuming everyone bigger than them is an idiot. That could work in your favor though, if you can surprise them with intelligence and catch them off guard with your weapons prowess.”

“Why do they think that bigness leads to idiocy?” I ask.

“I don’t know, but I personally believe it has to do with an overabundance of pride and dislike of larger beings. Around fifty years ago, that’s like three of their lifetimes by the way, one of their leaders tried to conquer territory in another cavern. He failed. Miserably. His entire army was forced to flee, but he tried again somewhere else the very next day. Three weeks he tried to advance in different directions, failing each time because he encountered larger opponents. Most of the time his army was able to return mostly unscathed because of his quick thinking and ingenious tactics, but he couldn’t keep all of them safe. During the generation after his reign we first started to hear the disparaging comments about intelligence of any creature larger than them. I can only guess that their pride was wounded by the continuous defeats, so they came up with something to compensate.” Smay shrugs, shoving more pancake into his mouth. “But if I’ve learned anything from watching them for so long it is that they are easily cowed, so if you show them your weapons and look like you know how to use them, they will probably return the bow.”

Briareth grins. “Cowards? This will be easy.”

I chuckle at his easy confidence. “Don’t say that, you’ll jinx it!” I tease.

----------------------------------------

After we get turned around twice and have wandered for an interminable period, it seems like Briareth really did jinx us. I really shouldn’t have given him the map. Now we are finally at the tunnel that supposedly leads to the pseudodragons’ lair. I hear chittering up ahead and breathe a sigh of relief. This sounds like the right cave, unless those are bats again. I tap Briareth on the shoulder.

“Briareth, what is our plan?”

“Well….” Briareth draws out the word. “I was sort of thinking that we should just run in shouting and waving around the weapons, and grab the bow?” He says this like it’s a question. I stare at him.

“What kind of tactics are those?”

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

“Simple ones. I-I read somewhere that simple plans are the best?” He offers weakly. “Besides, you don’t seem to have any better ones.”

“We could try and take a hostage, or try to negotiate a trade- the bow for something else,- or we could say we’ll attack unless they give back the bow. There are other options than waving weapons.”

“But either of those plans would sacrifice surprise and would give them time to surround us. Besides, how would we know who to take hostage?”

I stare at him for a little bit, unable to refute his point but not quite willing to give up. I eventually sigh and back down. “I guess the only one left is to run in there screaming then,”

“See, not a bad plan after all!” Briareth grins. I give him a small smile in return.

“I guess simple is best Briareth. You were right.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

I consider for a moment. “No, I wouldn’t hear the end of it for years. This way I have plausible deniability.” Briareth sticks out his bottom lip at me, pouting. “Ready to go charging in?” I ask, he immediately brightens up.

We run in screaming our heads off. My face is probably red as a beet, but not from anger. Briareth though, seems to be enjoying himself wholeheartedly.

Our arrival spooks the pseudodragons. Most leap five times their height into the air, many bonking their heads on the low cavern ceiling, some still clutching their bowls. Apparently we arrived during breakfast.

“GIVE US BACK SMAY’S BOW!!” Shouts Briareth, flourishing about with his sword like a mad ballet dancer, nearly decapitating a random pseudodragon who wasn’t quick enough to get out of his way. I’m a little less enthusiastic with my sword, brandishing the flat side of the blade at what looks to be the more raiding types. Though they stole Smay’s stuff, I can’t bring myself to wound them. It’s not like they hurt anyone when they robbed Smay.

Briareth doesn’t seem to feel any of these moral quandaries. He spins in a circle blade pointed outwards, like a sharpened top. He nearly loses his balance, but the pseudodragons don’t seem to notice. They chitter wildly and scamper away whenever he comes close.

“Give us back Smay’s bow!” shouts Briareth again. “If you don’t, I don’t get to try it out!” He thwaps a particularly fat pseudodragon on the rump for emphasis. It yelps, jumping and knocking itself out on the ceiling.

“We sorwender! We’ll give back da bow! Just stop swinging arwound da swords! Pwease!” wails one of the tiny creatures. It is either white with black stripes or black with white stripes, I can’t tell. It wears a rainbow cape that flutters behind it as it tries to get Briareth’s attention, while staying out of sword range. A difficult feat that is accomplished mainly through inching closer, than hastily retreating.

Briareth immediately stops waving around the sword, and turns to the pseudodragon in question. “You promise?”

The little creature nods solemnly “Oi swear on moi tail.”

“Oh, well that’s fine then. Bring it out.” Briareth says, seemingly completely relaxed.

The pseudodragons scurry around, I can’t keep track of which is which. They’re all so colorful, and many have painted designs, but their colors all blur together leaving them looking the same: small, scaled, and scared. The caped one appears again, this time carrying a bow with the help of three other pseudodragons. They deposit it in front of Briareth, and back away. All the other dragons have formed a circle around us. One of the little ones begins to chitter, but an older one slaps a clawed talon across its mouth, hissing. Briareth picks up the bow, and everyone in the cave seems to hold their breath. He frowns at it confused, I walk up beside him.

“What is it?”

“Something’s wrong. This bow, something is wrong with it. Something is missing.”

“Didn’t Smay say that it had runes carved into it?” I ask.

“He did.” Briareth said. “But I don’t see anything carved into this. It’s just a normal bow.” He says accusingly to the pseudodragons. They chitter uneasily. He glares at the one in the cape, who flinches.

“Ah, well, oi can expwain” he mumbles.

“Better make it fast,” Briareth grumps. “or I’ll start spinning again.”

“No! Down’t do dat! We dought dat you being a big beasty wouldn’t notice dat it wasn’t da right bow. Oi don’t actually know where da roight bow is. But! Oi know who knows!” the caped one adds on quickly glancing at Briareth nervously.

“Who is it?”

“Well it's our former weador, Philwi da phink-horned, he wull know for sure where da bow is.”

“Former leader?” I comment. “The bow was stolen only yesterday.”

“Yas, yas, but Oi came in power just dis morning.”

“How long do each of you hold power?”

“Twee weeks.” Says the caped one proudly.

“Three weeks?!” I exclaim. “How do you get anything done?”

“We weave dat for da next won to figure owt.” the caped one says proudly. “It's awl verwy democratic. Now wet moi wead you to Phili, we con ask him abowt da bow.” The caped pseudodragon waddles off toward a tent. I raise an eyebrow at Briareth and he shrugs, so we follow. When we reach the tent and duck inside, we have to stay crouched. This tent obviously isn’t meant for anyone larger than two feet. Inside we see a red pseudodragon, with a random green splotch of scales in the center of its forehead.

“Wahhh!” He yelps, when he sees Briareth’s curious bulk appear behind the caped pseudodragon.

“Hey Philwi, where’s dat gwowy bow you took from Smay’s hoard?”

“Why do you want it, Angi?”

“Well, we need to weturn it now.”

“Why? Oi got it, and Oi don’t want to weturn it. It’s in-ter-west-ting.” Protests Phili unhappily.

“Be-caws Oi says so. Dese next twee weeks Oi am da boss, so you haf to weturn it.”

“Foin, but oi don’t woik it. Oi’l wogde a com-pwaint.” Grumps Phili.

“You don’t haf to woik it. And it’s eiter dat, or dis goi goes crwazy and smashes your tent to spwinters.” Angi says smugly, reaching out his claws for the bow which Phili passes to him reluctantly after stroking it one last time.

“I feel like there is a power play going on.” I mutter to Briareth, he nods back in agreement. We exit the tent, careful not to rip it, and Angi hands the bow to Briareth, who inspects it closely.

“Don’t worwy, dis is da wight bow, Oi swear on moi tail.” says Angi reassuringly. Briareth doesn’t look reassured and I’m not either.

“You said that last time, and then gave us a fake.” Briareth says.

“Oi didn’t say dat Oi gave you da weal one wast toim. Oi said dat we’d give back da bow. And Oi did. Well, betor said Oi gave you a bow, not da bow. But it stiwl cownts. Pwease take dis bow and weave wifout anymore thord waving.” Angi begs hopefully.

Briareth continues studying the bow skeptically. I glance at the pseudodragon leader, not impressed. Before they swapped the bows I would have thought that Angi wasn’t lying, but now? Now I’m not sure. These pseudodragons may be small and relatively harmless, but they are certainly not as dumb as their accent suggests. I look at the bow with Briareth, it looks like the same bow, this one is a better fake if it is one. Not to mention they would have had to plan that power play beforehand if it was a fake.

“Briareth, you think this is the actual one?”

“Dis is da wight bow!” Exclaims Angi, we ignore him.

“I think so, Faladel. Look here, the designs are similar. I only caught a glance of the real one before it was stolen, but I think the designs are the same. They are also familiar. I wonder why.” He pauses, but can’t seem to think of it. “Ah well, it’ll come back to me later.”

“You could spot that much detail on the real bow? Good eye! You didn’t even pick it up!”

“I always was good at those spot the difference games.” Briareth mumbles, grinning. If he wasn’t the Briareth I had traveled with the past weeks, I would think he was embarrassed. “Thanks Angi, we’ll take this with us. See you later.”

“Pwease no.” Angi says so softly I almost don’t catch it. I chuckle.

We head out of the cave, the Pseudodragons left behind to finish their breakfast in peace. Briareth studies the bow, tracing the designs on the side over and over like he hopes he’ll be able to glean their meaning by rubbing them.