The sound of birds chirping was the noise of a spring morning. They flew around, singing their charming melody. Elian’s eyes fluttered open, the bright sun warming her face. She stretched her tired limbs and pulled the soft green sheets from her body. Slowly she rubbed her head, trying to take out the ache.

Last night was just a blur to the elf. She let out a sigh, sparking some memory of the previous night, when she smelled the wine on her breathe. It all came back to her then; the drinking contest.

“Damn dwarf,” she mumbled as she set her feet on the cool stone floor.

She rose to her feet and surveyed the room. It was filled with earth toned colors, much like her room at home. Delicate ivy clung to the walls, along with blooming flowers wrapping around the corners of the dwelling. A gentle stream spewed from a water fall, stationed in right corner of the room. The stream carried on through the right side of the room, until slipping onto the balcony where it created a much large water fall down the tower’s side.

Elian grabbed a melon green robe from a hanger next to the bed, and pulled it around her tightly, showing off her female features. She tied the matching sash, and walked from the room into a curving hallway. A sound caught her ear, the sound of a blazing fire. Quickly but carefully she hurried down the corridor towards the blare. The noise became louder with each step, confirming her suspicions of a fire. She came to the same door where she had left Arbeth last night. Gulping down her fears and doubts she turned the jeweled knob, opening the door.

She sighed in relief when she saw Lyle, uttering incantations and pointing his finger towards what seemed to be a dummy of some type, all the while, a line of fire emitting from his hand. Elian looked at the man, her eyes moving up and down his body. She had to admit she was attracted to the handsome man; something very uncommon with an elf. It was stupid for her to think that, and she knew it, since her parents would never allow it to happen, and the emotional struggle when he would die of old age, and she would still have centuries to go, it would be to much to bare.

Lyle stopped his chanting and looked towards the beautiful elf, his heart dropping along with his jaw. He had never seen a creature more beautiful or graceful then Elian. Yet, for that same reason, a nervous feeling worked its way through his stomach when ever he would try to gather up enough courage to speak with her in the past two days. Even last night, when she was drinking with Belo, he felt hard pressed to make conversation with such a dazzling elf.

“I feared that a fire was ablaze,” she said, but realizing her assumption was correct she reiterated, “a wild fire.”

“Fear not, I was just continuing my studies,” Lyle said with a sheepish grin.

Elian looked from the wizard and to his desk, where a large leather bound book lay opened. She moved to the book and looked at it’s lettering, she was intrigued that this human could read her language.

“Do you speak elvish?” asked Elian.

“Not fluent, though I understand the language quite well,” Lyle answered.

It seemed strange to him that Elian would even bother to talk with him, let alone show interest.

“Few know our language,” she continued, “Ever since we kept our wood strictly guarded, few ever learn secrets of the elves,” she said moving closer to Lyle.

“I was taught by Querl,” Lyle said softly.

Elian saw the pain etched on his face when he said his former masters name. She to knew Querl, in fact he had been somewhat of a grandfather to her.

“Where ever there is death there is grief, the two don’t seem that far behind from each other. Do not fear though, it leaves later in your days, but the memory of that person shall always be with you,” she said offering a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I still am puzzled at the recent events,” Lyle said, running a hand through his ink black hair.

“Answers will come and when they do you will know exactly how to exact them,” Elian whispered.

Lyle put a hand on Elian’s slender fingers and looked into her blue eyes. It seemed strange to the young man, but as their two orbs met, it felt as if all she said was right, and he would receive an answer.

* * * * *

Arbeth sat on a plush purple chair, moving a whetstone across the length of his slender sword. Quickly, but skillfully he sharpened the blade and removed any burrs or defects that had blemished the blade during his fray with the sesthes. He continued the same movement for several minutes, until taking the blade in one hand and bringing it close to his eyes. Pleased with his work he placed the long sword back in it’s scabbard.

He enjoyed these times, when he could put all of his equipment in working order. After going through his inventory, he checked his rations. Two weeks of food was still stored safely in his shoulder pack. Arbeth gathered his equipment and placed it besides his bed. Not wanting to waist his own rations, he removed his night shirt, replacing it with a delicate sliver silken shirt and breeches, embroidered with white trees around the chest, the tree of the Seren Wood, and headed to the tavern.

The thickly woven carpet felt good on the elf’s worn feet. He admired the Wizard Warren beauty for its own, but while looking out one of the many windows located in the host tower, he saw the wilderness and the road, two things he sorely missed. Shouting could be heard coming from the tower’s tavern down the hall, though it was of mirth not of rage.

Arbeth pushed through the swinging doors and examined the room. Even though early in the morning, at least ten patrons were in the room and each with a full mug of ale.

Several stools stood near round table, while on the right of the room was the bar, its surface cleanly wiped. In the center of the room was a hearth, where most of the patrons sat around, telling stories of valor. The elf maneuvered around the intoxicated men and made his way to the bar.

Standing behind the obsidian marble bar, was a man at least twice the height of Arbeth, large cording muscles, and long fiery red hair that skimmed his shoulders. He stood there calmly, wiping out the inside of a mug with a white rag.

“Hello good Bar Keep,” Arbeth said, gaining the large man’s attention.

“Arbeth, it is nice to meet you,” the man said, holding out his enormous hand.

“I fear I do not know of you,” he said, shaking the man’s hand.

“My name is Norin,” the barkeep said, going back to his cleaning.

“Well met Norin, I am surprised that you are sober compared to them,” Arbeth said, pointing over his shoulder to the staggering men.

“Strange, but I do not drink the stuff, I stick to water,” Norin chuckled. “And as for you, what is your drink?” Norin asked.

“A glass of wine if you will,” Arbeth answered.

Arbeth took a moment to measure the man as he went off to the bar to fetch a glass and bottle. His strides cumbersome, as if his height and burliness was more of a weakness then a strength. Though, there was a flow with his movement that if harnessed would make him a great fighter.

Norin gently set down the wine glass, and poured in the smooth red wine. Arbeth brought it to his nose and let the fumes flow into his nostrils. The elf enjoyed his wine.

“Do you like it?” asked Norin, continuing to clean the countless mugs the sat on one of the many shelves behind the bar.

“I love it,” Arbeth said enthusiastically.

“Most don’t, they find the taste too bitter, yet too sweet. I found that only true wine lovers enjoy this bottle,” he said placing the bottle next to the elf, moving it closer.

Arbeth looked from the bottle to Norin several times trying to comprehend what he was motioning. “You want me to have it?” the elf asked curiously, though he was clearly shocked.

“Take it,” Norin said with a smile.

“I can not take such a fine bottle from your collection,” Arbeth said pushing the green bottle back towards the man.

“Like I said before I do not drink, and do you really think that these men here would enjoy this bottle,” Norin laughed, pushing it back.

Arbeth stared at the man, returning a smile even large then the mans’. “I thank you Norin, I will savor every last drop.”

“I am sure you will,” Norin said as he began cleaning a new mug.

Arbeth sipped at his wine until not a drop remained.

“Well it was great to meet you Norin,” Arbeth said, grabbing a small pouch of gold coins and placing them on the table.

“Your money is not wanted here,” Norin said tossing the pouch back.

“Well I will find something to repay you with then,” Arbeth said with a promising smile as he left the tavern with his newly found treasure.

* * * * *

His hands caressed the glowing crystal ball, his eyes watching every movement. Wisps of smoke began to rise from the red cloth set underneath the black orb, but Lyle continued his hunt, looking for his answers. Determined to find what it was that killed his master he focused all of his power to be inputted into the ball. Visions of the Rune Range shifted through his mind, followed by an army of black lizards.

Belo looked at Arbeth and Elian with concerned looks as the wizard began to shake and twitch. The dwarf never fully understood the elements involved with magic, but he was pretty sure that this wasn’t one of them. He jumped from his seat and began rushing to his friend’s aid, but was stopped by Arbeth’s hand. The blond bearded dwarf furrowed his brow as he made his way back to his seat, all the while coming up with a plan to humiliate the elf.

“He could be hurtin’,” Belo whispered the Arbeth.

“Yes, most likely he is, but the answers he finds will justify his means,” Arbeth harshly whispered, making Belo nearly combust with rage.

They heard a weak cry from Lyle as he fell from his chair. All three rushed to his aid, carrying him over to a couch.

“Fetch a cleric,” Belo ordered Elian, sending her into motion.

Arbeth felt the wizard’s head. Sweat had begun to drench his body. He was beginning to fear that this would not justify the answers.

“Come on boy, wake up,” Belo whispered, grasping his dearest friend’s hand.

Tears began to rim his dark eyes and stream down into his braided beard. Losing Lyle was not an option, he would not let his friend die. He remembered when Lyle had come to the tower. Always energetic, always playing game with the him. It was easy to say that he was like a son to the dwarf. The dwarf, who had been visiting from his Silvery Mines, his homeland, had decided to stay when Querl asked him to head up security in the tower, though a main reason he stayed was because Lyle had shown him that friendships didn’t have to be only with in your race. With a young boy’s mind, Belo was opened to a whole world of understanding, along with forging his greatest friendship.

“Don’t ye give up!” Belo roared, knocking the elf from his feet.

As if it was the magical word to a dwarven kingdom, Lyle’s eyes fluttered open. His eyes darted from side to side, trying to recognize his surroundings. He saw his dearest friend, along with Arbeth standing side by side and looking over him as if he were dead.

“Are you ok?” asked Arbeth, helping the wizard to sit up.

“Yes I am fine. In my mind I walked through the mountains of Render, seeking the knowledge we need, though I fear it may be too large for us to face,” Lyle said, his tone grim.

“ What is it?” Belo asked.

“A dragon,” Lyle said, as if he was shocked by the words he said.

Belo snorted, he never cared for dragons. “So what be ye’re problem?” the dwarf asked, knowing that with a wizard and experienced fighters it was possible to take down a dragon.

Arbeth on the other hand was quite skeptical on what the dwarf was saying. He had never encountered a dragon, though if legends were true they were not a beast to be tampered with. Even with Lyle, the dragon would be a grueling challenge. His thoughts went back to his sister who was in the mountainside, lost if not dead. The elf could only hope she had not encountered the dragon.

“What about an army of sesthes added to that task?” Lyle asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Bah, let me take em on, I will rip them from limb to limb,” he roared.

“Stupid dwarves,” Arbeth mumbled, but Belo’s keen ears caught the remark.

“I ought have shrunk ye down to me size when he stepped into dis tower,” Belo said, pulling his axe from its resting place along his back.

Arbeth’s blades appeared almost instantly into his hands, his eyes narrowed.

“Both of you, we share a common foe, let us not fight about simple remarks. Look beyond your race,” Lyle shouted above the two combatants continuous jabber.

Belo heeding his friend’s words placed his gleaming battle-axe behind his back, folding his arms across his chest.

Arbeth to, hearing the truth ringing in Lyle’s words, he put away his blades as quickly as they came out.

“What are we going to do?” asked Arbeth, quickly changing the topic.

“I do not know,” Lyle said, moving from the couch back to his chair, his hand chin in his hand.

Belo rubbed his beard and drew a heavy sigh. He knew that they must dispose of the dragon, or else they would all be doomed. Figuring he knew the most on how to deal with a dragon, since he had been in at least a dozen dragon hunts for his clan, an idea flickered into his mind.

“A beast’s problems is a beast’s answer,” Belo said, referring to an old dwarven saying.

“What do you mean by that?” Arbeth asked, not liking where it was going already.

“It means to solve the dragon problem you need to know how to solve it,” he answered.

“You think you should do it?” the elf gasped.

“Nay, not just me self, I am speaking of da three of us,” Belo said.

Lyle looked at his friend. It seemed the only way. If they sent a large force of Foxhole’s army, they would easily be found. Though if they went in a small party, they could remain concealed until entering the mountain where swiftness would be needed to end their threat.

“Do ye agree?” asked Belo to both of the adventures, putting plump armored hand in the center of the three.

“Agreed,” Lyle said with a smile, placing his hand atop his friends.

The wizard managed to hold the smile, though in truth he was engulfed by inner turmoil.

“It won’t be done with out me,” Arbeth replied, placing his hand on top, hoping that this journey will lead to his sister.

“So it is settled, our journey is clear. To the dragon we shall go,” Lyle said.

As the three companions began to remove their hands from on top of each others, a slender hand slapped atop them all. They all looked from the hand to see Elian, her brow furrowed.

“You really believe that your three can leave me here,” she asked cocking up a questioning eyebrow.

“Four it shall be then, to save foxhole,” Belo said.

They gave a cheer to Foxhole.

“We shall meet in the morning, I shall provide the maps fer our trek,” Belo said, turning to leave the room.

Elian seemed the only of the group not excited about their task. A face of sadness took over her normally light hearted features. It truly worried her about facing a dragon. She had studied the creatures, reading lore and myth about the mystical lizards. The sheer power of the ancient beasts sent chills running down her spine.

“Well I am off to make the preparations that are needed for myself and Elian. I shall see you in the morning,” Arbeth said patting Lyle on the back for a job well done.

Lyle gave a weak smile as he returned the pat.

“Fear not, I have faith in our quest,” Arbeth whispered before he left the room.

Somehow Lyle didn’t seem so sure. The odds were stacked against them, and what odds they were. Four adventures fighting a dragon seemed an impossible task by itself, but the fact that under the dragon were his loyal followers of sesthes with numbers rivaling Foxhole’s inhabitants.

He shook those thoughts from his head, not wanting any fears to slow him down. Quickly he moved his way around the room, gathering his extra robes. Slowly he moved to his desk, retrieving his ring. Lyle slipped the onyx band onto his index finger and clenched and unclenched his hand, securing it. His hand trembled as he clutched at Querl’s old amulet. “Guide me,” he whispered to himself. “If there was a time I needed you most, it is now.”

Elian continued to stand in the center of the room determined not to bother the busy wizard, though she saw anxiety taking over his composure. Knowing full well that if she bothered Lyle, he would loose his train of thought.

Lyle surveyed the plain white walls, looking at all the ancient artifacts. One item unparticular caught his eye. It was a headband of silver and gold silk, yellow jewels were worked into the precious fabric. Set on the center was a beautiful purple gem, the shape of a crescent moon. He lifted the beautifully item from its resting place atop two pegs and brought it before him. At once he noticed how the gems were positioned, realizing that the headband was magically imbued with the ability to ward off intrusions of the mind.

“Elian,” he called, but not moving an inch, too focused on the item.

“What is it?” she asked with a smile, hoping to brighten Lyle’s mood.

“For you,” he said holding the headband in two hands.

Elian was too shocked to respond. Never before had someone given her an item as beautiful as the headband. “What for?” she managed to get out.

“Protection,” he whispered as he gently tied the headband around her head, pulling her hair so the band would not hold down her beautiful hair.

“I still do not understand,” she said a confused look scrunched on her face.

“Black dragons are known for their devastating mind attacks than their fire. This headband shall ward off any mental attacks and any telepathic waves,” he said.

She looked deep into his night sky eyes. She saw a sadness in his deep pools that seemed would never dry up, a sadness that not even the very burning star could take away. How she wanted to embrace him in a hug and tell him how much she really cared, how much she wanted to take that grief away. Although they only met three days beforehand, she could not mistake the feeling she had for something other then what it was; Love.