A/N/Disclaimer: you might recognise Oberon's palace, if you've read The Hobbit ! I don't own The Hobbit though, and apologies to JRRT for borrowing Thranduil's palace…..

I should also apologise to David Eddings, God rest his soul, for the borrowing of another motif, used to great effect in his writings. I don't own the Belgariad either *sigh*

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He would explain no further, and no amount of begging, wheedling, or demanding would induce him to elaborate. She was sure that whatever it was, she was at the heart of it. Her baby was definitely important to their cause, but he would not say why, and she got the same treatment from Oberon when she went running to him instead.

After two days' rest, the company was ready to move into Carne. Sanna watched Oberon cross first, then stepped up herself to go – and found her way barred by an invisible wall. She gasped, and Oberon looked back.

"Captain !" he yelled. Páron came hurrying up to her, his face flushed.

"My apologies !" he said, "Sanna – my name ?"

She stared at him blankly, then remembered what he'd said about crossing into Carne.

"Páron," she answered, and he pulled her onto the bridge.

Although Sanna's first impression of Carne, from across the river, had not been favourable, her opinion changed as they travelled further inland, through the lush oak forests which occasionally gave way to large wildflower meadows and silver streams, and then upwards into the mountains where Oberon's palace was. The air grew cooler as they travelled higher, and Sanna found herself shivering even in the woollen cloak Páron had found for her in port the day before they'd crossed the bridge into Carne. The nights were the worst, though better than they had been on the grasslands, for here they lit fires. She crept ever closer, holding out her hands to the warmth as the mountain winds blew cold through the trees, and Páron flung a thicker cloak round her shoulders with a sudden oath.

"Farther up, there'll be snow," he said, "if you think it's cold now…"

"Snow ?" She'd never seen it.

She saw it two days later, and marvelled at it. It was still summer, so there was only a light dusting of the stuff according to Páron, but she was fascinated by it.

"It gets several feet deep in the winter," he said, grinning as he watched her face. She looked startled.

"Wolves, too," he continued happily, and earned himself a cuff from the king, who beckoned Sanna to ride next to him.

"Take no notice," Oberon smiled warmly, "there are wolves, but they never venture near the palace. We're almost there now – look." He pointed through the trees, and she saw a large clearing with a high wall set with beautifully worked filigree iron gates at the other end. She could see nothing behind that wall, and wondered at that; Oberon told her that his palace was built into the side of the mountain and that only the gardens sat behind the walls.

If she expected the palace to be nothing more than a series of damp and gloomy caves, she was disappointed. Doors of delicately carved wood swung open to admit them, and she found herself standing in the centre of a huge circular cavern. The roof was of beaten gold, and the floor of purest crystal. Though she had been a princess of both Isken and Mortua, she had never seen anything so fine and beautiful. Huge pillars of marble surrounded Oberon's entrance hall, each flanking a doorway that led to other parts of the palace. An in the heart of the mountain was Oberon's throne room, lit by thousands of candles set in cut crystal sconces. The rooms she was shown to were no less lavish, but it was the bed that held the most appeal after days on the road, and she kicked off her shoes and sank down into the soft silken sheets with a grateful sigh.

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She was woken a little while later by a strange rhythmic chirping noise, and sat up, groggy from the little sleep she'd had, her head aching and her eyes blurry. The sound continued, and she looked about the room for it, putting her feet out blindly for the soft slippers she'd seen at the foot of her bed.

She drew her feet back with a shriek of horror and disgust, and yelled again when she saw what it was sitting in her slipper. A young footman came running into the room, his knife drawn.

"What is it princess ?" he demanded, ready to do battle with whatever had frightened her so badly. She pointed to the source of her fear, her hand shaking and her chest wracked with sobs.

"Get it out get it out get it out !" she howled. Disoriented from the lack of sleep, the fear rose in her and all rational thought fled.

"But, my lady…"

"Out ! Out, out out !"

"My lady, I don't…."

"Please, please, get it out !" she wailed. He obeyed, looking worried, and picked up the frog in his palm. He hesitated for a moment, then opened his mouth to protest again. She looked at him with a murderous expression on her face.

"Do I have to call my squire ? I will have you executed if you don't obey !" she shouted. She felt faint, and gripped the bed posts to keep from falling. He hurried out, but Oberon soon came in his place, with Páron hot on his heels.

"Sanna, what on earth….?" Páron began, then grabbed her as her knees buckled. She was gibbering in fear, tears streaming down her white face.

Oberon looked amused, however. "Perhaps a frog wasn't the best thing to turn her daughter into, Captain," he chuckled, "she seems to have a rather unreasonable view of them."

"I'm beginning to wish I'd left her behind," growled Páron, still holding her. Oberon raised an eyebrow at the sight of his captain's arms wrapped so protectively around the girl he claimed annoyed him so much. Páron scowled, and set Sanna safely down in a chair.

"This presents a problem, however," said Oberon, turning serious again, "How will she turn her daughter back now ?"