Myronel sighed as he regarded the Elefae elders sitting there silently on the other side of the table. He'd just finished telling the account of everything that had happened in Kelshir, only leaving out the exact situation of the Elemental Hex. He suspected Lady Kelshir wouldn't have wanted the details of her father's death included, but he had his reasons. Ones he had the suspicion would soon be very important, judging by the faces of the pair.

  Edeline ought to be happy with the honesty, at the least. She and Hamond had returned to the same empty house they'd been in before. Myronel suspected that by the time they got back, both would be sound asleep. They'd certainly earned it.

  As for Ne and him...well, the day wasn't quite over yet.

  "I won't deny you accomplished a lot in a short time," Dusysel said, rubbing at his eyes. Age clearly demanded the old elf sleep early, because he looked nearly as tired as Edeline had. "But I am not pleased with the situation this puts us in now."

  "You don't trust her?" Ne asked.

  "We don't trust the king. Either of them." Dusysel raised one thin finger into the air, pointing into nothing. "If the war is won, or at least lessens enough that King Henri can turn his attention back to the kingdom itself, he will want his own man in charge here. But if the Spellking takes the entire kingdom, he'll repce all of the lords with ones loyal to him. Unless the war continues to stagnate, she will likely govern for only a few years."

  Myronel knew, from his own experience, that the tter was more likely. The bombards were not a perfect solution to the problem of the gigants on the battlefield. The forces of Hyarch would continue to lose ground, and it would not be long before another siege of the capital city of Diamedia would be underway.

  "If we were to tie our fortunes too closely to those of the Lady Kelshir, the aftermath would be a disaster for us." The other elder gave Ne a stern look. "But if word of what happened spreads, that would leave little choice but to try to gain some benefit from it."

  "The choice is yours," Myronel told them, "I will not say one way or the other, since we pn on leaving tomorrow."

  "Of course it is," Dusysel said, "Though perhaps the time comes for us to choose successors. We will not live forever, and with what you have done, Faehaven may yet endure. We feared we would live to see what we built destroyed, and now that time is ours. You have our thanks."

  "We will arrange a meeting with Lady Kelshir to discuss it," the other elder said. Myronel only just now realized that he'd never learned the old elf's name. It wasn't as if he could interrupt this conversation to ask, either. Likely they assumed he already knew it. Well, he didn't, and very likely he never would.

  "That will come another day." Dusysel stifled a yawn. "For now, we need to sleep, and you probably do too. May the grace and glory of the Fae be with you."

  Though it was polite, Myronel knew a dismissal when he heard it, and he had no reason to object. "May they be with you as well," he said, using the table to push himself to his feet. The wood creaked in protest, although Myronel wasn't certain if it was the table itself or the chair he'd been sitting in. Both seemed equally old.

  Turning and leaving the house, Myronel wasn't surprised to find the dark of night to greet him. He sighed, turning his thoughts to what he was going to eat. More importantly, how he was going to do it without waking his sister or Hamond. If only all of the problems he faced could be so mundane, Myronel acknowledged, he'd be a lot happier.

  "I presume the meeting with them went well." Ugots's voice, coming from his left, jolted Myronel out of his thoughts.

  "Shit!" Ne burst out, equally caught off-guard. "Were you invisible again?

  "No, you simply did not look over here." Ugots answered, "Then again, I suppose I did forget you see poorly at night."

  "Excuse us for not being talking cats," Ne shot back.

  Myronel raised a hand, not wanting an argument now. Besides, he had a question for the sphinx. "Why did you come to our aid? You said you wouldn't."

  "I said I was under no obligation to," Ugots answered, "Yet I ter realized there was one matter that I needed to confirm, one that I obviously could not if you were all dead."

  "What would that be?" It came off a bit more confrontational than Myronel had intended, which he immediately regretted. Maybe it was his fatigue, maybe it was Ugots's arrogant manner, but he really shouldn't.

  Ugots showed no sign of taking offense. "I believe you would prefer to discuss it when all of you are awake and present." The sphinx's gaze shifted to further down the street. "In addition, I believe someone else wishes to speak with you two."

  Myronel spun to look. Emerging from the darkness were the figures of a woman and child. Even without being able to clearly see their faces, he knew without any doubt who the child was, simply from how her gaze was fixed on Ne. That meant the woman was likely Centur.

  "You made it!" Jelinia broke into a sprint, just barely stopping herself from crashing right into Ne. Not the most graceful, Myronel noted with amusement. But then again, he'd had a few moments like that when he was younger.

  "I half expected you not to," Centur admitted as she drew close, "We both know Kelshir is not friendly to elves."

  "It's about to be a lot more friendly, after what we did." Ne grinned at the woman. "No more knights will be attacking here."

  "Truly? If only my sister could have lived to see this day..." Centur's gaze went up to the sky. Rather than look up with her, Myronel took a moment to gnce back to where Ugots had been. As he expected, the sphinx had slipped away while they had been talking. Not that it mattered - they'd meet again tomorrow.

  "So, you did alright while we were gone?" Ne had turned her attention to Jelinia.

  "I have a new name now," the girl said.

  "Uh...wait, I thought..." Ne stammered. Myronel guessed the topic of names had come up before, but Ne simply cked the time with the fighting to sit down and handle it. It likely wasn't as easy as adding a couple of letters, as it had been with Hamond's suggestion for his name.

  "With everything you were doing, I decided I ought to bring the matter up with her," Centur expined, "She immediately wanted to just change her name to Je, to be like yours. I was able to talk her out of that, but she insisted on something different to be like yours. I guess traditions are different where you're from."

  "They aren't," Ne answered, "I chose this name for myself."

  It was Centur's turn to be baffled. "But...you mean you changed your name? Why?"

  Myronel winced, knowing full well how much Ne disliked the subject. However, this time she did not appear upset. Instead, Ne was thoughtful, a distant sad look in her eyes visible even in the dim light of Faehaven.

  "It's not who I am," Ne said, "It's not what I am. It took me years to see it, to understand that the girl they saw me as was never me. I couldn't force myself to be Neredy, for them, or for anyone. I can only be Ne."

  It was this side of Ne that Myronel knew few people got to see. Behind the crude manners and irreverent humor was a sensitive spirit who wanted nothing more than to help support people. The same traits he had seen at his lowest, the ones that drew them close as they fled for their lives away from the battlefield. That was Ne.

  The one he loved.

  "It's what being an elf means. You know the teachings, probably better than me. It's about becoming our true selves, at harmony with everyone and everything around us." Ne took in a breath, not looking at anything in particur. "Any name we take, no matter what it sounds like, should serve that purpose. If she wanted to remain Jelinia, that's an Elefae name. If she wants to be called Je, that's an Elefae name. If anything else, well..."

  Myronel stepped forward, offering an arm of support. Ne leaned into it, silently staring into the distance. No doubt about it: she was tired too. Holding it off better than Edeline or Hamond had, yes, but still wanting nothing more than to y down for the night.

  "But I want to keep my new name," the girl protested, frowning. "I'm an elf now, and like you said, there's no changing my mind. So my name is Jynia."

  "That's understandable. And Jynia is a fine name." Myronel could tell the girl was proud of her decision, and that was fair enough. She'd likely put more time and thought into her name than he had with his.

  "It's your choice," Ne said, stepping away from Myronel. "But now the choices are not going to get any easier. Especially if you really want to follow me and become my apprentice."

  "Aren't you a little young to be taking one on?" Centur asked.

  "She wanted to be a healer like me." Ne looked directly at the woman. "Either she goes with us, or she stays with Astorel."

  "I want to learn from her," Jynia spoke up.

  Centur sighed with clear frustration. "Growing up on the road's no good pce for a child. I know that, and I think you know it too." The woman crossed her arms. "All the same, though, we don't really have space or food enough under our roof for another. And Astorel's been so busy, between tending illnesses and injuries that went too long without healing and dealing with the newcomers. He couldn't spare the time to teach anyone. Not for a good while yet."

  "Newcomers?" Ne asked.

  "Did the elders not tell you? A handful of other survivors from Verdan showed up while you were gone." Centur's demeanor softened. "It's a good thing you're leaving tomorrow too. We can put a few of them in that old house. Grief got the better of me, and I let it sit empty too long. Better to let someone else take it, and make better memories there"

  "The elders did not mention it." Myronel wasn't about to touch the subject of Centur's sister again. As for the elders themselves, he believed he knew the reason they'd kept quiet on the matter. Despite all their efforts to aid Faehaven, the elders likely did not want to continue to depend on random travelers for assistance.

  "Either way, she's yours now." While the woman's eyes were no longer visible, Myronel could feel the intensity of the stare Centur was giving Ne. "If you're really doing this, you had better keep her safe, no matter what you do or where you go."

  "By the Fae, I will." Ne's answer was solemn.

  "I will trust you then," Centur said, "I need to get back home now. Take care of each other, and may the grace and glory of the Fae be with you."

  "May the grace and glory of the Fae go with you too," Jynia answered. The girl took to it well. It was definitely more formal than Ne ever had been. With Jynia soon to be under Ne's influence, Myronel was confident that politeness wouldn't st long.

  "Uh...what she said," Ne added, further convincing Myronel he was right.

  Centur just shook her head, starting to turn to leave, but then she stopped. "No. After what you've done, it's clear it was with you all along. This...this must have been what it felt like for our ancestors. The ones who got to walk alongside the sages of old."

  Ne stared in disbelief as Centur walked on, fading back into the darkness. Myronel watched the woman leave, a little astonished at how high a praise Ne had just been given. Even with his limited understanding of the traditions of the Elefae, he could at least grasp the weight of those words - and the burden that came with them.

  Besides that, however, Myronel was also having the odd feeling he'd forgotten to mention something. He couldn't think of what it was. The knights, Faehaven, the Aetheric Order, Lady Kelshir...he quickly went through each of the things they'd dealt with, but each one had been handled already.

  Then it finally came to him.

  "You know what?" he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else, "I don't think she noticed my ears."

  As he expected, neither Ne nor Jynia seemed to hear him. "Let's get back to that house," Ne told the girl, after regaining her composure. "You're going to need all the sleep you can get for tomorrow." They all did, Myronel thought, as he began to lead them into the night...and the days beyond it.

  ProfessorMitchell