We’ve been traveling for three weeks now, and with each step closer to home I become more nervous. I haven’t been sleeping well. It’s beginning to show I think. I wouldn’t be surprised if Briareth comments on it. He must have noticed that something is wrong with me; I’ve been almost as skittish as Myrddin. I should probably try and think of something to say if he asks me about it, but I can’t concentrate. It’s like all the fears in my head have separate voices and keep interrupting each other and my thought process. I can’t concentrate on anything. The long hours spent doing nothing but walking and thinking don’t help at all, if anything the attention makes the voices of my fears louder.

This morning we pack up camp as normal, I’ve had another restless night, and am not in the mood for small talk. But Briareth is, he always is. After we have been moving for less than five minutes he begins.

“So Faladel, what’s the first thing you're going to do when you reach Heronmal?”

“Tell my parents I’m alive.” I say. “What else would I do?”

“Good point, nobody’s told them yet have they? That is a problem. I can’t get a medal if they think you're dead. But I was kind of thinking after that.”

“I-” I stutter, hesitating. “I don’t know, I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Wow, I would have thought you'd be the type to plan this all out.”

“Well what are you going to do?” I ask, turning the question back at him. I don’t really listen as he spouts off a ton of miscellaneous details about exactly what he is going to do. Instead I turn over the fact in my head that I haven’t actually planned anything out. Briareth’s right, a past me would have gone on and continued planning the rest of my life out step by step. But I have no clue what I will do. I guess it is because of all the uncertainty that surrounds that moment. I don’t know what will happen, so I can’t rightly plan for any outcomes.

“-and then I’ll eat five of the castle kitchen’s eclairs, are you listening, Faladel? Hmm… Okay, I’ll eat five of the castle kitchen’s eclairs dunked in the best wine you have, which I’ll have mixed with mayo and mustard. Wow, you really aren’t listening to me are you? You didn’t even flinch.”

“Nope.” The truth slips out my lips before I can stop it. I clap a hand over my mouth immediately as if trying to shove that single syllable back in. I take a deep breath and release it, feeling the back of my neck heat up in embarrassment. “Sorry, what were you saying Briareth?”

“Nevermind, it doesn’t really matter. You seem a bit off today Faladel. Well, you've been off for a while actually. Is something wrong?” I stare at the ground, focusing a lot harder than necessary on where I’m putting my feet.

“Yeah actually, I’ve had a lot on my mind recently.”

“Well then talk to me!” Briareth exclaims “It's either that or talk to Myrddin, and Myrddin can neither sympathize with you nor give advice.”

“Well I’m worried about how everyone will react when I arrive home,” I say, choosing my words carefully from all the mental clamors. “I have been gone a ridiculously long time. Everyone thought I was dead. I’m not sure if people will want me back. Our mission failed, everyone except me was killed, I was kept in prison for twenty-two years. I’ve changed a lot and I don’t think all that change was for good. I don’t even know if they will recognise me, what if they have all forgotten me? And even if they are okay with me being back, what if I don’t fit in?” I’ve lost control over the words, they are just tumbling out now, like a river bursting through a dam that has long been cracked. “If only I had been smarter, braver, wiser when I was in the army, I would never have led my platoon into that trap. None of this would have happened. I know that it wasn’t entirely my fault, I thought I’d mostly gotten over the guilt for their deaths when I was in prison..But I think Lyra blaming me for the death of her boyfriend brought it back. What if others blame me in similar ways for the loss of their loved ones? Except with this I can’t dodge responsibility. I actually am responsible for that. This is the first time I’ll be home after that incident, and I’m terrified. I’ve messed up before, but never that bad. If someone like Lyra can blame me for something I didn’t even do, I’m sure the people will blame me for what I have done. Half of me wouldn’t even be upset with them if people decide that they don’t want me back. I made a huge mistake then, and now I’m not even the same prince I once was. After all, I've seen and done so many things that I would have never imagined doing years ago. I used to be a circle, but now I’m all rough and pointy like some sort of malformed rectangle. I’m not sure I can squeeze into my old position which is still probably the shape of a circle if it hasn't been filled in already.” I pause in my tirade, sucking in a deep breath, ready to pour out more. But Briareth beats me to it.

“Woah, Faladel. Wait a second, I wasn’t expecting any of that. I was more expecting a complaint about how I’ve been hogging Myrddin this entire time and how your feet were getting sore. You’ve been keeping all that locked up for how long?”

I blink at him, surprised at myself and him. He wasn’t talking about any of that, and I just spewed all of my worries out at him? I’m mortified. “Ever since Smay’s mountain.” My mouth says on autopilot.

“Dang.” Briareth says, “this totally isn’t the time for this, but keeping that flood bottled up that long is kinda impressive. The whole train of thought is completely unnecessary, but keeping it in that long is still impressive.”

“What do you mean unnecessary?” I say.

“Ummm… Needless, irrelevant, uncalled for-”

“I know what unnecessary means, Briareth.” I say, cutting him off. “But why are those thoughts unnecessary? I thought that they were completely rational, and even called for in this situation.”

“They might seem to be rational to people who overthink things, but they are certainly not called for. Your parents care for you Faladel. A lot.” Briareth says sternly. “They will still love you even though you made a mistake.”

“But I got people killed-” I say, trying to make Briareth understand. “My friends, my-” He snorts and cuts me off.

“You think your dad and other past kings haven’t made any choices that have killed their friends and subjects? Of course they have! Think of Lyra and Ryfon for example. Your dad made a mistake right there. Everybody makes mistakes, and none of us can see the future our choices will bring. And sometimes there is no option but to kill one group of soldiers or a different group. Being king means that you have to make those sorts of decisions, and sometimes you end up guessing wrong! But that is okay! You tried your best, but you can’t save everyone.” Briareth exhales a long breath. “Faladel, what I’m trying to get to is, you would have done it sometime. Made a mistake, messed up badly, nearly got yourself killed. It was just going to happen. And having it happen sooner rather than later doesn’t mean that you're now broken or misshapen. And it certainly doesn’t make you a failure. It means you’ve grown. And that’s a good thing!

“Of course there will still be a place for you at the castle. Your parents don’t care that you've been in prison for twenty-two years-” Briareth seems to notice what he just said and pauses, then quickly hurries on. “Let me rephrase that. Your being in prison for twenty two years will only make them more overjoyed to see you alive and well again. Your spot in the castle might be a little bit different, especially if your parents went ahead and gave you a sibling, but there is still plenty of room for you. You probably won’t fit into your old spot, true, but your parents will recycle the space, reshape it, and come up with an entirely new spot for this new you.

“Now I don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense and ‘woe is me’, Faladel. Even if you still consider yourself broken after my fabulous pep talk, at least remember that I like this new you. And I’m not sure about this oh-so-perfect old you, you were talking about. He sounds mighty stuck up to me. I mean rarely ever makes a mistake? Sounds like someone with way too high standards, so that they can’t bear to make a mistake. Either that, or way too low standards, so that everything they do is amazing.”

A chuckle escapes my lips at Briareth’s description of what he thinks my old self must have been like. I might have been stuck up back then, but no one had said anything to me about it, and I never noticed. Then again, a stuck up person probably wouldn’t think they were stuck up.

Then a thought occurs to me out of nowhere, and it literally stops me dead in my tracts.

“Do you think I have a sibling?”

“It’s possible. I’ve been gone for over a year, and I know that the king and queen were considering it.” Briareth responds with an unnerving smile.

“I feel like we have had this conversation before.” I comment, staring at him suspiciously, he only smirks and nudges Myrddin to carry him on ahead. I walk behind him, considering what he said. Perhaps he’s right, but do I dare hope for that outcome?

We continue walking until we get hungry, then Briareth breaks out some rations for lunch, and we eat while walking. When we stop to make camp, I broach a question to Briareth, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Briareth?”

“Hmm?”

“How should I talk to my parents?” My voice quivers ever so slightly. I clear my throat, and then continue. “I mean I’ve been gone for so long… I don’t know what to say.”

“Be casual? I don’t know Faladel. There might be a book titled ‘How to Talk to People You haven’t Seen in Twenty Years’ but I certainly haven’t read it.”

“I’m not sure I can be casual.” I admit.

“What?! Ridiculous!” Briareth snorts “Everyone can be casual.”

“It’s a lot more awkward when one is a Prince, and everyone talks to you formally. I probably haven’t talked casually to my parents since I was under thirty.”

“Well, I would suggest then that you try to be yourself, but add a little casual mixed in. Like how you talk to me.”

“Hmm.” I say. “ Perhaps. Thanks for the suggestion.”

We eat a quick supper, then curl up to sleep. I don’t have any dreams.

We reach the outskirts of Heronmal shortly after noon. Well, I say the outskirts, it’s more like the basement. Heronmal is built vertically, instead of horizontally like most cities. The marketplace is on the ground, but the rest of the city is in the trees. It was built this way so that if idiots invade, they will pillage the market, but the homes will be fine. After all, no one ever looks up. The design has never been tested, but it sure is nice to look at. From the middle of the marketplace if a person looks up they can see the canopy of tree needles and branches. If a person looks closer though, they will see a series of brown rope bridges that connect the different trees, and if their eyes follow the bridges they can see the pathways and homes built into the trees. And maybe if they squint, they can see the Elves moving around up there, going about their daily lives like normal.

The marketplace itself is quite busy. Sellers hawking their wares to passersby on the street, dust hovering above the ground kicked up by sandled feet as crowds of elves move around searching for the best prices. The smells of sweat, perfume, and food mix together in the air, confusing my nostrils. Briareth and Myrddin shove through the crowds easily, and I struggle to keep up, bumping shoulders with others in the crowds as I try to stay as close to them as possible. No one seems to be paying any attention to us as we become a part of the crowd, just another group of people trying to get to our destination. Eventually Briareth stops at a small food stall and dismounts. The Elf running it is selling small fresh buns. I push my way through the crowd to join him.

“Want one?” I hear him ask Briareth. “They’re only four…” His voice trails off as he looks up at Briareth. “Young Herbalar! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” He abandons the buns, and moves around to the front of the cart and gives Briareth a hug. “You're back from your top secret mission then?” He says as I catch up to them “And who is your new friend?” He adds, looking at me. “I could swear I’ve seen you before.”

“Oh, this is Prince Faladel.” Briareth says, grinning. “And I would love one.” He adds, quickly grabbing one of the buns.

“Briareth! You're not supposed to joke about such things!” The man gives Briareth a quick cuff on the back of the head.

“But I’m not joking!” Briareth protests, rubbing the place the man hit. “This is the not-very-dead Prince.”

The man takes a closer look at me, frowning slightly in concentration.

“It’s true.” I tell the man “I didn’t die. I was taken prisoner, and Briareth helped me escape.”

“I thought the Dwarves don’t take prisoners.” the man says.

“Apparently they make exceptions for princes.” Briareth says, shrugging. The man stares at me a little longer, then glances at Briareth, who smiles at him, and munches on the hot bun.

“You do look a lot like the Prince if my memory is correct.” He admits. “And I sure hope Briareth wouldn’t lie about such a thing. I suppose you two are off to the castle then? To tell the King and Queen that you're still alive? Unless of course, they already know? And that is what you went out for?” He asks Briareth.

“That was not my mission, they don’t know he is alive yet. And no matter how much you pry I’m not telling you what the mission was, you meddling old man.” Briareth swipes another bun, and sticks it in his bag.

“Ah well, you can’t blame me for trying.” the man says chuckling.

“I was wondering if you could watch our horse, perhaps set her up in the stables?” Briareth asks, smiling hopefully, “I’ll pay you back later.”

“Sure I can,” The man says, handing me a fresh bun. I try to refuse but he insists, dropping it into my hand and closing my fingers around it. ”The fastest way to the castle” he adds on “is probably using the new-fangled elevad-something. Then again it’s only for official stuff and nobody will believe you about him being the dead prince, so you should probably just take the stairs.”

“I hate the stairs.” Briareth mumbles munching on his bun as we head to the tree trunk that will put us closest to the castle.

“Why?” I ask, tossing mine from one hand to another to cool it down.

“Even though the trunk is big, we still end up going in circles, and I get dizzy easily.” Briareth explains.

The crowds thin out a bit as we arrive at the stairs. The tree trunks, as Briareth previously stated, are big. Fifty elves could link arms and they still wouldn’t cover the circumference. It’s one of the many reasons why our city in the trees is able to exist. The stairs aren't super wide, but they are wide enough for two elves to walk abreast easily with a foot between them. We head up and up and up. Hundreds of steps later I look down, and can no longer make out the different people in the marketplace. The Elves and the tents blend together in a colorful blur. I remember doing this as a child, and wondering how people with so many destinations and desires could come together to form such beautiful swaths of color. I smile down at the market, and hesitate, wanting to stay there a few more minutes. Briareth however doesn’t seem to notice the beauty, and just pulls me back from the railing with a soft groan.

When we finally reach the top, Briareth has to stop for a bit to gather up his senses. Then we start making our way to the castle. The streets and swinging bridges up here are a lot less busy then the marketplace down below. We quickly reach the castle, and see the guard on duty. He looks familiar, I think I met him when I was being trained for the army. Perhaps I can try out this ‘being casual’ thing on him. What was his name? Z-something?

“Hey Zydon.” Briareth greets him. “It’s been a while. So you got the guard job?”

“Oh hey Briareth! Yeah I did, thanks for the recommendation! You're finally back eh? Did you succeed?”

“Yep, and even picked up a souvenir.”

“I’m not a souvenir, and if anything, I picked you up.” I say, frowning at him. He smiles back at me. Zydon looks at me, does a double-take, rubs his eyes, and then looks again.

“Prince Faladel? Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” He says, astonished.

“Messed up paperwork.” I explain, waving off his disbelief, trying hard to not slip into my formal habits. “And an assumption that I would like to get cleared up as soon as possible. Mind fetching my parents for me?”

“I can’t simply fetch the King and Queen.” Zydon says, paleing slightly. “Also they are in a meeting with the council currently, and last time I interrupted a council meeting, I got in big trouble.”

“Well, I’d like to think they’d make an exception for their not-dead son.” I say frowning. “And if my Father is still reluctant, Mother will make him see sense, I’m sure.”

Zydon bites his lips nervously, but with Briareth and I urging him on, he gestures to us to follow him and heads into the palace. We walk down familiar halls to the waiting room outside of the council rooms. There he leaves us and slowly enters the council room, where I can hear a heated debate taking place.

“Did I do a good job being casual?” I ask Briareth in an undertone. He smiles and gives me a thumbs up. Then we hear from inside the council room a tremendous roar. It’s my Father.

“HE’S ALIVE!! WELL BRING HIM IN THEN! BETTER YET, I’LL COME OUT TO GREET HIM!”

The doors burst open and my Father comes barreling out, crown and all, his formal wear streaming out behind him, and gives me a tight hug. I think I hear my back crack. Then my Mother comes out as well, and piles on to the hug. Briareth stands back grinning.

“Come on in Faladel. Where were you? Where have you been all this time? How did you get home? What happened?” My Mother says the words spilling out from her lips, tumbling over each other in their hurry to be heard. I can’t answer her because Father is still crushing my lungs, like if he let's go I’ll disappear again.

Mother seems to notice this and chastises him. “Don’t strangle him with your hugs dear, we only just found out he is alive! Let him go, and we can go and dismiss the councilors. Then we can all sit down and question him about what happened.”

Father stops hugging me, but he keeps a tight grip on my arm. Part of me feels mildly uncomfortable with all the attention, but the rest of me is just relieved that Briareth was right. Only when my parents have stopped hugging me do they take notice of Briareth and Zydon, who are still hanging around.

“Zydon, thank you, you can go back to your post.” Father says. “Briareth, what are you doing here? Nevermind, don’t answer that. I don’t have time for your ridiculousness right now, come around again in- about an hour? That alright with you dear?” He addresses the question to Mother who says. “Better make it two. I have the feeling this is going to be a long tale.”

“Mother, Father,” I say. “Let him stay, please. He is one of the reasons I got home safely, and he has a part to tell in the tale as well.”

“Okay.” Father says immediately, and Mother nods in agreement. Then Mother pops back into the council room and tells everyone to reconvene tomorrow.

Some protest, but she brushes them off with the explanation “Our dead son is alive. We need a bit of family time.”

Meanwhile I turn to my Father and ask a question that has been prying at my mind for too long. “Do I have a younger sibling?” He bursts out laughing, and then turns to Briareth.

“Seriously? You tortured him with that joke?”

“That was a joke?” I say glaring at Briareth, who is desperately trying, and failing, to stifle his giggles.

“Well your first reaction to it was so hilarious, that I just couldn’t give it up and admit it. Also it wasn’t technically a lie, I did hear your parents talking about it.”

“Mainly as a joke, we never actually considered it.” My Father says.

Briareth shrugs in response. Mother arrives back, and all the councilors start trailing out behind her. A lot of them glancing at us curiously, I have a feeling that news of my return will be spreading a lot faster now. Mother has small wet streaks on her cheek, and rubs at them absentmindedly as she says “We should probably move into the private living room for this discussion.”

After we get ourselves situated, Briareth in one of the swing chairs, my parents on the loveseat and I in the rocker, I tell my tale. I start with my capture, skip a lot of the imprisonment, and try to summarize our journey homeward. But it is hard. There is just so much to cover. Smay and his tasks, the tale of the Icer, Briareth’s bad driving– Father cracks up at this –Briareth’s bad mental maps, staying at Mossblossom Central, etc. Briareth interrupting to chime in with details I’ve left out doesn’t make our tale any shorter. I automatically skip mentioning my fears of not being accepted back, as they now seem small and irrelevant, even though at the time they felt overwhelming. Briareth doesn’t add them in either, and I’m grateful for that.

When we are finally finished with our tale, over four hours have passed, and Briareth has yet to explain what happened to him before he met up with me. Father cuts us off though.

“So how should we break the news to the general public that Faladel is back my dear?” He asks Mother.

“Probably have a state dinner or something official to celebrate his miraculous return,” She begins “along with a quick summary of his journey in the papers, or perhaps to be read aloud to the public via begonia. We can make the final decision later. Briareth, did you want to say something?” Briareth had been fidgeting a bit as my parents spoke, and he gratefully accepts Mother’s invitation.

“Ah, yes. I was wondering if I could give my report now, and then be on my way home. I want to be able to get back to my family tonight.”

“Of course.” Father says immediately. “It would be rude of us to keep you. Please, report away.”

Briareth quickly begins to summarize his quest, much of which I have already heard along our journey multiple times. Some bits were new though, I suppose he hadn’t felt safe telling anyone before he told the King and Queen. Didn’t want to cause panic, I suppose.

Many Dwarves that he had met in his travels were talking about a quick end to the war due to a secret weapon. In fact we had met one on our journey, when we were given Myrddin, though I had dismissed his words as folly at the time. Apparently though Briareth had heard it from other sources as well, higher up sources, who had access to information that would be restricted to others.

When he finishes his report we all sit in silence for a while. From somewhere nearby I can hear the sound of laughter and busy feet. I suppose the kitchens will be preparing supper now.

My Father is the first to break the silence. “We can’t do anything about this now. It’s not like we have proof, or even an idea of what they are planning, we just know that we need to be ready for whatever may come.” He says. “We can send out more undercover spies to see if we can find anything, but realistically, nothing else. Any other tidbits to report Briareth?” Briareth shakes his head. “Then you are dismissed. Go and take a break with your family. You deserve it.”

As Briareth gets up to leave, a thought seems to occur to him. “Oh and because I rescued your son from a lot of danger and guided him home, can I get a medal?”

Father chuckles, and says “We’ll see Briareth. We will see.”

The End