When the ranger woke me it felt like I’d only slept for a few hours, but I felt surprisingly well-rested, especially for such a hard bed. Someone had brought a bucket of water, and I paused to wash my face and torso before joining the others.

We had a simple breakfast of dried apples, bread and cheese. No coffee, which bothered me. I’d started drinking that at university, and would get headaches if I didn’t get it. Did you get headaches in dreams, though? I wasn’t sure.

The others weren’t very talkative, or perhaps it was just that they were eating quickly and packing up at the same time. Tiriel was the exception. She was singing softly and smiling brightly at everyone. It cheered me up, despite the early morning. She really was beautiful, even with those funny long ears. They moved all the time, like a cat’s.

I’d never seen an elf before - obviously - but she didn’t quite match my ideas from the books. I would have expected something more - well, majestic, to be honest. Tiriel was more like a pixie, or a cartoon elf. She was slender and graceful, with long legs, arms and fingers, but her head was oddly large. Her eyes were large too, large and green, and slitted, also like a cat’s.

And she was energetic, constantly on the move, half-dancing, half-bouncing around the room. I wondered how old she was. At least Tolkien’s elves always seemed old - old, wise and grave. Tiriel seemed like she was fifteen, and definitely wasn’t grave. I hoped she was wise, at least.

“All is settled,” the ranger - darn, I really had to remember his name! - announced as he came in the door. “Are we all ready to leave?”

Nods and murmurs of agreement all around, but several heads turned towards me. I was happy I’d been a Boy Scout and also for those week-long LARPs, which had given me experience in living in primitive conditions. The fact that all I have were the things I’d been wearing helped too, at least in making it easier to pack. I

“I’m ready,” I said. In the corner of my eye I saw Caveria make a face. So she wasn’t just in a bad mood yesterday.

This was a dream, I told myself. It’s just a dream. Even if it feels very real, and is the most realistic dream I’ve ever had. A long one too, unless something was up with my sense of time and it had just been a few moments back in the real world. Even so, if I didn’t have anything but the clothes I was wearing, and the sword, I would be in trouble in a few days. Unless I learned to... wash my clothes. I didn’t have any money either.

The others filed out, but Serah remained, watching me. When we were alone she hoisted her pack and cocked her head.

“Don’t you have a pack?” she asked.

“No,” I said simply. I didn’t know what else to say.

“Hm. You need one, if only to carry provisions.” She pursed her lips and gave me a look I couldn’t read at all. “I’ll arrange it.” She nodded curtly and went out the door.

What did that mean? I stared after her, then followed her into the gray morning light.

It was a cloudy, windy day, and I was happy I’d made my outfit sturdy and robust. It was for Leya’s sake, really - she disapproved strongly of synthetic, cheap or fake clothes and equipment. The more realistic, the better, and so I was comfortable despite the gusts of cool wind pulling at our hair and cloaks.

“I have an urgent errand to run,” Serah was saying. “I will catch up to you at the gates.” She turned and hurried off. Arn-the-ranger looked us all over and then led the way, out the archway and into the street.

We were in a large village or small town, with two-story houses of stone or wood, and shops lining the street. There were more people about than I’d expected at this early hour, but perhaps waking at dawn wasn’t unusual. They didn’t have electric lights or alarm clocks, so they probably followed the daylight.

We turned left and walked along the street. Slower than I’d expected, but then I saw Serah pop out of an alley between two houses, and head right across the street and into a store that apparently was already open. We hadn’t even passed it when she came back out and half-ran ahead of us, disappearing into another alley.

I studied the town as we walked, although I couldn’t imagine having any use for the information, once I woke up from the dream. It looked like a mix of pleasant English country town and Alaskan gold rush frontiers town. The street wasn’t paved, and many of the houses had a wooden sidewalk in front. Sometimes it was connected with the next house, sometimes it was just a couple of planks, and sometimes there was nothing. I guessed the street would get very muddy if it rained.

We seemed to be on the main street, as we just kept walking until we approached a wooden gate. It was open, and there were people going, and coming. Farmers coming in with things to sell, it seemed. A few had wagons, others had horses, but many were walking. As we came up to the gate I saw Serah standing just inside it.

“Did you complete your errand?” the ranger asked her and she nodded. We kept on walking, but Serah came up to me at the rear and held out a brown backpack.

“Here,” she said. “I’ve put some necessary stuff in it. No food, but some things you will need.” I took it, and almost dropped it. It was much heavier than it looked.

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“Thanks,” I managed as I hoisted it on my back. I smiled uncertainly at her. She smiled back, rather too motherly for my tastes.

Outside the gates and the wood-and-earth town wall was a motley warren of sheds and small houses, with scruffy-looking people, dogs and children. We walked through it with no problems, and left the town behind.

For the first kilometer or so there were small farms or houses with gardens on both sides of the road. It seemed people living here were growing food to trade in the town. They were mostly growing one thing only, but a lot of it, so they would hardly be able to feed themselves just on their own harvest.

Beyond that, the houses thinned out and the landscape shifted to a mix of fields, meadows and wood copses. And hedgerows. Hedgerows everywhere, with a constant chirping and chittering coming from the inside.

At least this part was fairly Tolkienesque, I thought. The landscape looked rather English, at least as I remembered it from the one or two times I’d been to the English countryside. That made sense, that the dream dredged up those memories.

I managed to keep a bit of distance to the others as we walked, and nobody tried to move up to me to talk. I really didn’t want to try to come up with any explanations. There was no way I’d be able to do that without sounding either crazy or like a liar. I didn’t know anything about the world in the dream.

The weather stayed cloudy and windy, and we kept going along the road. At one point Thord jumped over a ditch and beckoned us to follow, up to an old ruin of a house, where he proceeded to make coffee. It was heavenly, but we drank it quickly and then continued on our way.

We had lunch a few hours later. Maybe. I had a very hard time telling time, but my stomach told me it was definitely time for lunch. Thord took out pots and a metal stand, and several people contributed things from their packs. They made a vegetable soup, with dried meat in it, more bread and cheese and fruit, and coffee afterwards. As always when outdoors the food was delicious even though it was simple.

After a short rest, we continued. I was beginning to get restless. It was interesting to see something of the world, and to watch as the landscape changed from farmland to becoming increasingly forested, but it was also - pointless. Why was I dreaming that I was walking for hours in some kind of fantasy world? I thought I’d read that dreams were a way for us to process things that happened to us, but I couldn’t understand how this dream did that. Maybe I should start talking to the others, even if it meant making up some sort of backstory. On the other hand: this was a dream, not a computer game. I didn’t need to talk to anyone to make the game progress, and dreams didn’t work like that!

I had almost worked up enough to courage to go over and talk to Thord when the road curved close around a forested hill, with some stone ruins beside the road and climbing up the hill. Just as I increased my pace a bit to go up to him, someone called out.

“Watch out, to the right! Bandits!” It was Tiriel shouting as she bounded forward in graceful leaps, her bow and an arrow suddenly in her hands. I heard the bow twang before I’d even had time to react.

Everyone was suddenly running. The ranger had his sword out and was sprinting towards the tallest part of the ruins, Thord was already across the ditch beside the road with his battle-axe out and spinning above his head. Serah was down on one knee on the road, behind Caveria. Who was staring up the hill with cold eyes and her hands raised. They were - glowing, with a menacing red light.

They were all focusing on the six people rushing down the hill, towards us. Three had swords, three had bows. Two were already down, lying where they’d fallen with Tiriel’s arrows in their necks. I drew my sword, but I felt acutely useless. I had no idea how to fight with a sword.

“Get in there, hero,” Caveria snarled at me. “There’s just four left for you. Three, now.” Thord had engaged one of the swordsmen, twirling that huge axe so fast I could hardly see it. Neither did the bandit, apparently, because suddenly he cried out, blood spraying from his arm, and just after that, he was thrown backwards by the axe digging deep into his chest.

It was gruesome, and I felt sick from all the blood. At the same time Caveria’s taunt stung more than I wanted to admit. I wasn’t a hero. I’d never made myself out to be a hero, but...

Suddenly I saw one of the bandits, sneaking up around a wall towards the ranger. He was occupied with the other remaining swordsman and didn’t see the threat. Before I could think, I raised the sword and ran towards the sneaky one. I glanced at Arn to get some kind of hint, but he was circling, slashing and feinting in a way I could never emulate. Perhaps speed will work too, I thought, and ran as fast I could with the sword out in front.

It didn’t work. The bandit saw me, and leapt up on the wall. I tried to stop, but stumbled and almost cut myself in the face as I fell. I scrambled up desperately, and yelped as the bandit jumped down and swung his sword at me. He missed my neck by a centimeter, mostly because I tripped on a stone and fell over backwards.

The bandit sneered at me and raised his sword. I tried to get up, but the backpack was in the way. I flailed around with the sword, but he dodged it easily. I could see him tracking the sword, waiting for the best opening. Just as I thought - this is it, here’s where I die - I heard the most blood-curdling scream I’d ever heard.

It startled the bandit too - he crouched down and looked around wildly. And then he fell, with two arrows sticking out of his chest.

I heard the scream again, and saw Tiriel sail past high above me, in some kind of impossible leap. She grinned down at me as she turned in the air, getting her feet back toward the ground.

I got to my feet, clumsily, and just managed to see her land on the other side of the ruin. She must have been seven meters up, but she landed as if she’d jumped off a chair. Then she ran over to me.

“Are you hurt?” She darted around me, quick like a bird. “I can’t see anything,” she added.

“No, I’m fine,” I gasped. I’d had the wind knocked out of me, but nothing worse.

“Good!” she said, beaming at me.

“What’s happening?” I said as I looked around and realized the battle was over. Arn was back on the road next to Serah and Caveria and Thord jumped over the ditch, heading over to them.

“The leader and the last archer fled when I killed your attacker. They seemed to think I screamed horribly.” She grinned at me again, but this time showing a disturbing amount of sharp teeth.

“I thought so too,” I offered, which made her grin even wider.

“Let’s go to the others!” She bounced away and was back with the rest before I’d reached the ditch.

My back hurt as I walked and the backpack felt heavier than before. I shouldn’t complain, I thought - and then I saw Caveria, and stopped.

She was glaring at me, if that wasn’t too friendly a term. She looked absolutely furious, and disgusted at the same time. Her eyes, which I remembered as an icy blue, now glowed red. It made her look like a demon, especially with those spikes and blades on her arms and shoulder. I gulped involuntarily.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” she snarled.