Happy Valentine's Day!

This chapter goes out especially to SunDragon27, charlotte12890, and Starqueen88, whose reviews of last chapter made my day. Thank you for the time you took to do that. I really appreciate it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Phineas and Ferb. It occurs to me I should probably say I also don't own any tales regarding Canterlot, The Sleeping Beauty, The Lord of the Rings, or anything else Povenmire or Marsh parodied in the Excaliferb episode. You guys get the gist ^.^

CHAPTER TWENTY:

Uplifting

They vastly underestimated the time it would take to travel from the remains of Gevenora's camp to Amiasgate. Once the sun started setting in the sky, and Baljeetolus estimated they were maybe a quarter of the way there (which was about three fourths of the way between Kaigate and Amiasgate), they decided to call it quits. They weren't necessarily in a hurry. After all, how many times in their journey would they have time when they weren't being attacked or pressed by some looming unknown threat. They would make the most of a quiet night.

They circled up and sat together in a break between the sprawl of thick-trunked trees. Although Bufavalous had kept them well fed as they traveled the remainder of the afternoon, they were all ready by the time they gave their feet a rest to eat a real meal. Bufavalous had a small pan packed in his food bag. If they found a source of drinking water, they could boil the roots from the nymphs and eat them with some meat.

Mm. Meat and potatoes. Just the thought made Phineas' mouth water.

"We recently passed a small stream," Baljeetolus said, stretching his legs out and grabbing his toes. When he was satisfied, he shook his limbs and stood. "I will refill our water pouches and cooking pan if one of you builds a fire."

After collecting all of the water skins, the elf was off. Meanwhile, Phineas surveyed the ground around them.

"There doesn't look t be many twigs or anything on the ground here, but I'm sure if we split up and scope around a little, we'll find some firewood in no time," he said.

"Well, I'll clear a space for the fire," Isabel said. She brushed a stray portion of her hair behind her ear. "If that's alright."

Bufavalous' lip curled and his groan made it clear he didn't like the prospect of moving. Regardless, Bufavalous was a warrior, and he did what he had to do. He was the first to leave the clearing to gather wood.

Phineas watched as Ferb moved without protest, and even though it was his recommendation they were following, he realized he didn't actually want to split up. He wanted to spend time with his brother. He had some things he wanted to tell him. Phineas followed in the same direction Ferb had gone when he disappeared through the trees.

"Hey, bro, wait up!" he called, and Ferb turned around. His eyebrows rose in surprise, but he by no means looked upset by Phineas' presence. Phineas caught up to him and smiled. "I thought we could collect some firewood together."

Ferb nodded, his expression pleasant and calm. He motioned for Phineas to lead the way as he turned to continue deeper into the trees, where thicker pieces of wood were likely to be found. Despite his invitation to lead, Phineas walked beside his brother.

"So, how's it been?" he asked brightly.

Ferb looked over to his brother, his eyebrow notched, and Phineas laughed.

"Yeah, I know I don't even really have to ask. You're doing alright, but you're confused about what Jenny said, and mixed up about Isabel, and stressed because you feel like you have to protect us, and probably a bit tired from trying to be so strong all the time."

Just as Phineas hoped, this elicited a giant smile from his older brother. He shook his head in an exasperated way that said, why do you even bother asking? You know me so well already.

"I know, but it never hurts to ask," Phineas responded. "After all, you do keep finding ways to surprise me these days. I just want to give you a chance to contradict me if I'm reading you wrong."

Ferb put his hand on Phineas' shoulder; have you ever read me incorrectly?

Phineas beamed. "I suppose not." He bent over and picked up a branch from the ground. He'd almost forgotten that was their purpose in the first place, and had stepped on it in passing. It was a decent piece of wood, perfect for a fire. "Though it is nice to spend some time with just you."

Ferb tilted his head at Phineas, and the youngest suddenly looked alarmed.

"Not that I don't like Isabel, of course!" he blurted out quickly. "I do really like her, a lot. I especially like how you are around her. I just meant that, well, I'm used to having you to myself, you know?"

The knot of panic inside Phineas unraveled as his brother's expression softened. He nodded, so Phineas went on.

"We're a team. We always have been, making potions and stuff in our backyard, goading geese and fending off Mom when she tried to marry us off. It was always the two of us, and Perrible."

Ferb nodded again.

"I missed stuff like this, too," Phineas said with a laugh. "How I can stand here and blather on, and you can not say a word, and we can have an entire conversation. It just feels good—like we're home."

Phineas' words faltered, and his feet followed suit. He found he couldn't say a thing more, not when his throat suddenly swelled with emotion. Nostalgia and longing hit him so hard he almost felt he had vertigo, and he automatically reached out to his brother. Ferb immediately took his hand, squeezing his fingers, and Phineas looked up to meet his eyes.

"Is that what you really wanted to talk about?" Ferb asked. "About home?"

As honest as it felt to say yes, Phineas shook his head. "Actually, what I really wanted to say was thank you."

Ferb's head lilted to the side; what for?

"Back in Rogerick's study, when he pinned me to the table and had my arm…" Phineas instinctively rubbed at his shoulder, which was still sore from that fight. "Well, you kicked his butt. He could have broken my arm, but you didn't let him. I just need to make sure you know I appreciate it."

Ferb put his hand on his shoulder again, and his expression seemed to say, of course. In his eyes, Phineas could see the same protective pride he'd had when he tackled Rogerick to the ground. He could still hear his voice, the way he yelled don't touch my baby brother. He never knew Ferb could sound that way, so fierce and intimidating. Phineas was infinitely relieved to know he'd always have Ferb by his side.

"But that's not all," Ferb said knowingly.

Phineas let out a short laugh. So often, it was as if they were of one mind. "No, that's not all."

Ferb nodded again, and motioned for him to go on.

"Well, you were right before," Phineas sighed. He bent over and picked up another loose bit of bramble. "I've been thinking a lot about home. I'm just worried, you know? We got cut off when we used the Mirror Mist to talk to Candavere. She said Rogerick's men were looming about, and were looking for us, and I just couldn't—I couldn't stand it if they did anything to Mom or Dad or Candavere because they were looking for us."

Ferb took the pieces of wood from Phineas' arms, and nodded like he understood. It wasn't enough for Phineas; he felt like a head nod didn't qualify the anxiety he felt whenever he thought of home.

"Seriously, Ferb, I'm going mad with worry. After seeing what Rogerick and his men can do, I—I had a bad dream last night, and Danvillage was like Kaigate, and Mom and Dad were running through the woods without protection, and Candavere was—"

Ferb squared himself right in front of his little brother, silencing him with a stern gaze. When Phineas' voice fizzled out, and he did nothing but gape at Ferb, the eldest sighed. He dropped the wood lightly on the ground and leaned down so he could look Phineas straight in the eye, his hands holding his brother's arms.

"Phineas," he said. That was all he voiced. Phineas knew all the other things he could have said, but didn't need to: I understand. I'm worried too, but we're needed here. We're doing the most good here. We're going to stop Malifishmirtz. We're going to stick together. All of this was captured in just his name. Ferb was remarkable like that.

It was Phineas' turn to nod, and in the next moment he was hugging his brother. Ferb wrapped his arms around his shoulders and squeezed, and Phineas felt like they were ten again. He'd been really upset when he'd first learned that Perrible was a knight for the G.W.C.A., and after their quest, Ferb has comforted him in a similar way as he struggled to come to grips with the truth about his pet. On top of being a man of many words through using just a few, Ferb was a great hugger. He seemed to absorb people's problems.

"Yeah," Phineas sighed. "Yeah, you're right, Ferb." He let himself sulk in his older brother's arms for just a few moments longer. Just as Ferb absorbed his problems, Phineas worked to absorb Ferb's strength. Remarkably, it seemed to have worked. When Phineas pulled back, he felt he could breathe a little easier, and stand a little taller. He picked up the wood they'd gathered, sucked in a gulp of air, and found his usual smile again.

"What about you, Ferb?" he asked once they started moving again. "How're you holding up?"

Ferb yanked a low-hanging branch from a tree, thick and void of leaves, which meant it would produce less smoke. Considering Bufavalous was also getting wood, they probably had enough to last the night and then some, but Phineas pressed on; it looked like Ferb was contemplating a response, and Phineas didn't want to head back just yet.

Phineas noticed this span of Ferb's silence was tenser than his previous. He took the branch Ferb collected, and while he had his attention, Phineas asked, "What's up? What are you thinking?"

Ferb shook his head, and Phineas couldn't quite tell if it was a pensive dismissal or a frustrated one—or perhaps a bit of both.

"So…" Phineas drawled, smiling flippantly, "are you having girl problems?" When Ferb turned a surprised look to him, Phineas wagged his eyebrows. Ferb scoffed.

"Not everything in my life has to do with Isabel, Phineas, though I thank you for your concern." He raised a critical eyebrow. "And all of your comments."

Phineas laughed. "Hey, it got you to respond, didn't it? I'd call that a success."

"As successful as your responses earlier?" Ferb said. "All of that, 'they might as well be married,' rubbish?"

"Rubbish?" Phineas cut back, filling his voice with mock hurt. "You know I'm not wrong." He chuckled. "Heck, I'm pretty sure just about everyone knows I'm not wrong."

Ferb's shoulders rose and fell in a silent laugh, and he shook his head. As exasperated as Phineas thought he was trying to come across, Ferb smiled too, just a little at the very corner of his mouth.

"But as much as I'd prefer to talk about a more light-hearted subject," Phineas began again, "we both know that's not really what's on your mind."

As Phineas spoke, his words from earlier came back to him. Me? I'm just their sidekick, though neither would tell you that. I'm the ballast, and I provide the occasional comic relief. Even though they were his own words, fitting so neatly into a category in this moment made him uncomfortable. He never did well with perimeters, with feeling constrained. He always liked being more.

"I am worried about the heightened level of danger we are experiencing with this quest," Ferb said quietly and quickly. "It's different than last time. I worry about you getting hurt, and me not being able to protect you—or, even worse, having some fault because Rogerick's men will be mostly looking for me."

Ferb was so forthcoming with this information that it confused Phineas. It was so unlike his brother to be that expressive, even if he would open up from time to time. Then Ferb tilted his head at him, lifting his hand in a your turn gesture, and Phineas realized his words came with a price; now he had to share.

Phineas looked down to his feet. After a few seconds, he shrugged. "I was just thinking about the quest, too." He shook his head. "But hey, at least we have Bufavalous and Baljeetolus now."

Ferb nodded. Both of them had an armful of wood, and he tipped his head down at their stock, smiling as if to say, think we have enough?

"Yeah," Phineas laughed. "I think we're good." They began to retrace their path. "Besides, Bufavalous has probably been done for a while, and I have a feeling we shouldn't leave him and Isabel alone for too long."

Ferb didn't need to respond for Phineas to know he agreed. Bufavalous seemed to have some sort of aversion to Isabel. Ferb noticed that he always walked with some distance between them, and sat opposite of her every rest, where he was farthest from her.

It didn't take long for them to make it back to their campsite. When they did, Phineas was proven right; Bufavalous was already back, and he was bickering with Isabel.

"…that up, you're going to get yourself killed," Bufavalous said to the fairy as the boys reentered the clearing. "Or worse, you're going to get one of us killed, that's all I'm saying."

Bufavalous had a fire started, and Isabel stared into the flames silently, her arms wrapped around her legs. Phineas dropped his wood in a pile and crossed over to the girl, but he kept his eyes on Bufavalous.

"What's all you're saying?" Phineas asked. He sat next to Isabel and almost put his arm around her, but he didn't. Instead, he tried to look disapproving of their argument, but Phineas wasn't very good at that.

Isabel looked from Phineas to Ferb, then back to the fire, making it clear she wouldn't respond. Bufavalous didn't appear to have the same attitude, but before he could say anything, Baljeetolus joined them again.

"I vastly overestimated the coordination and strength needed to carry all of this back with water," the elf laughed. He dropped the sealed water pouches on the ground with a sigh of relief. "I am so pleased that you started the fire. We should begin heating this water right away."

Isabel sat up straighter and took the pan from Baljeetolus. "I hope it wasn't too hard to get," she told him pleasantly, and Phineas was happy to see she wasn't letting whatever Bufavalous had been saying to her affect her that much—at least as far as he could tell.

Baljeetolus' chest puffed up with something like nerdy pride, and he looked pleased to have his struggle validated. "It was manageable. It will definitely be worth it once we get to eat."

They were quiet while the water came to a boil, and also after they added the roots. It was mostly an amicable silence, each of them just a bit too tired and hungry to put much effort into anything. It was peaceful, though Phineas couldn't help but notice that Bufavalous seemed to be getting surlier and surlier.

"Hey, Byoof," Phineas said slowly. Bufavalous raised an eyebrow at him, but his face didn't get any crankier than it already was, so Phineas figured he didn't absolutely hate the nickname usage. He cleared his throat. "I just remembered we were talking about food earlier, when Jenny showed up. You were about to tell us something, I think. Something about why you're always eating."

Baljeetolus laughed loudly and deliberately before saying, "Oh, it is nothing, Phineas."

"It's not nothing," Isabel said. "And it's not just Bufavalous." She looked to the elf. "You get all weird whenever we talk about food, too."

Bufavalous took a piece of meat from his bag, but they were surprised when he didn't eat it. He just stared down at it in his hand. Baljeetolus didn't say anything either.

"How are we going to work together if we can't trust each other, right?" Phineas said. He gave Bufavalous and Baljeetolus his most inviting smile. Much to his surprise, it appeared to have worked. Baljeetolus sighed.

"I understand what you are saying, Phineas," the elf said. "A lot has changed in the past eight years for both parties, I am sure—a lot of things that are probably difficult to talk about."

"I know you're both probably used to only counting on each other," Phineas continued, "but you can count on us too—all three of us. You know that, right?"

"Yes, yes," Baljeetolus said quickly. His head bobbed up and down, sending his long blonde hair shifting every which way. "Of course you are right."

Though he agreed, Baljeetolus didn't speak again, and since they began the conversation, not finishing it was becoming awkward.

Phineas sucked in a breath. He wasn't used to awkwardness. Honestly, if there was tension around him, he never really noticed. He was usually so uncommitted in any kind of social drama that any awkwardness that could stem from it didn't even register. This time, though, it was as thick as his mom's porridge.

"I know it will be a little hard to get back into the groove of things," he started again. "But why don't we start with answering questions. We need to know where we're all coming from if we're going to move forward together."

"Alright," Baljeetolus said slowly, and Phineas figured he was speaking for his traveling companion, too. "Alright, fine."

"So why are you so edgy all the time?" Phineas asked, taking a bite of the meat handed to him. It was good, even if a bit salty. The roots were done boiling by then, and Baljeetolus removed the pan from the fire. The two newcomers to the group looked to be collecting themselves as they passed the cooked roots around.

"Life sucks," Bufavalous said. "That answer your question?"

Phineas was about to say not exactly when Baljeetolus said, "By that, Bufavalous means that we have had to start looking at things a little differently since everything…"

"Went to hell?" Bufavalous offered.

"Yes," the elf agreed. "What he said."

"Yeah?" Phineas prompted, taking a bite of the root. The boiled water had made it soft, and he realized Django had been right; it tasted very similar to a potato—if not even better. "You mean with the civil war?" he said after another bite. "What happened?"

"There was never enough food to go around," Baljeetolus answered hesitantly. "Once we set up the refugee camp, that is. Even with Bufavalous making runs into town, and groups scavenging things from the forest, people went to bed with empty stomachs most nights. This was back in the early days of the conflict, mind you. It was… deeply affecting."

"Oh," Phineas said, because he could think of nothing else.

"People do crazy things when they're hungry," Bufavalous said. His elbows dug into his legs, and his hands were clasped together. He stared intently at the fire. "The most desperate had the idea to cook and eat one of those meat creatures we defeated. Told them it was a bad idea, but did they listen?" He shook his head, then rested his forehead on his hands. "They were never quite right after that."

"People were eating meatlings?" Isabel gasped, her fingers shooting to her mouth in horror.

"Are you serious?" Phineas spluttered. "Those things are just—I mean... why would—How could that have…"

Phineas shook his head and buried his mouth in his hand. He didn't feel all that hungry anymore, though he knew he had to keep eating to keep his strength up.

Ferb remained largely unaffected, as far as they could all tell. He raised an eyebrow like he hadn't been expecting that, then asked, "And what happened to the people that ate them?"

Phineas and Isabel looked over to the swordsman. They knew it was a good question, but neither were too keen to get a response. It wasn't a matter of the answer being bad; it was a matter of how bad. Meatlings had to be pure dark magic. Bufavalous let out a heavy sigh.

"They died," he said. His voice was nonchalant, like he'd had to tell this story to people every day. "Those that didn't die right away disappeared. Didn't last long with that poison inside of them. Probably died in less than a day in the woods."

Phineas, Isabel, and Ferb were quiet. What did you say to that? It was horrible, people starving so much they decided to do something crazy like eat a meatling. Those poor people. And poor Bufavalous and Baljeetolus too, for having the people they were supposed to protect have to go through that. They had been right; a lot could change in eight years. A lot of damage could be done.

"Were you able to make any sense of Jenny's words to you, Ferb?" Baljeetolus asked in a not-so-subtle effort to redirect the conversation.

Ferb shook his head, then lifted his hand as if to say, anyone else have any questions?

"I do," Isabel said. "I didn't quite see how you managed it, Byoof, but you built that fire really fast. It got me thinking about yesterday, when you burned that meatling, and when you lit something to see my face. How do you do that?"

"You wasted one just to look at Isabel?" Baljeetolus suddenly shrieked, his glower evident as he stared down his companion. Isabel didn't know what that was about, but Bufavalous immediately went on the defensive.

"Hey, it was important, obviously, since she's a fairy and all, now wasn't it?"

"And you used one to start the fire?" the elf demanded.

Bufavalous crossed his arms. "And what if I did?"

"Bufavalous," Baljeetolus sighed, "you know we cannot afford to waste them, especially now that we're traveling. Those are for meatling purposes only!"

"Wait, wait, time out!" Phineas called over the two. "What is for meatling purposes only? What are you talking about?"

In response, Bufavalous pulled something from his belt; something gnarled and twisted, like raw ginger.

"This is Jeet root," Baljeetolus explained. "It is a root we harvested from a small bush with pink berries that grows only in monster territory. We found it to be too vile to eat, but after an accidental blunder by Bufavalous—"

"I may have burned a tent down," the brute said.

"We discovered it is highly flammable with specific contact: a certain strike that, when angled just right, will cause enough friction to—"

"Swipe on edge of blade, get flame," Bufavalous summarized.

"Jeet root," the elf concluded, and they both nodded like they'd rehearsed it.

Phineas couldn't help but smile. It would take some getting used to the way Bufavalous and Baljeetolus talked around each other. He'd noticed it in the tent yesterday, how they always cut each other off, but explained each other at the same time. It was actually kind of cool, even if the two of them acted like it annoyed them ceaselessly.

"Jeet root?" Isabel asked. "Is that just coincidence?"

Baljeetolus' cheeks turned bright red. "I—well, um, well… no. No it is not."

"The nerd here knew no one else had discovered the root before, at least not for making fire, and decided he would name it," Bufavalous said.

"You named it after yourself?" Isabel giggled, and the elf looked even more embarrassed.

"Well, we had to name it something, did we not?" he sniffed, which made them all chuckle even more.

"Hey, it's alright," Phineas laughed. "No judgment. I think Jeet root is a great name."

"It is the most effective method we have found for getting rid of meatlings. Otherwise, they tend to reform." Baljeetolus paused to take a sip from his water pouch. "But as you saw, fire stops them cold—so to speak."

"Yeah, we were running into issues with that, too," Phineas said. "We didn't have any fire. They were quite the issue. I don't know if those two meatlings in town were the same we'd encountered yesterday morning, or if they were different. Either way, they're trouble."

Bufavalous snorted, before taking a monstrous bite out his the boiled root. "Eh, the meatlings ain't half bad. If you know they can be burned, they're no problem." He wiped his arm over his mouth, and ended up getting bits of root in his beard. "Nah, the real problem's the gargoyles. Can't bash my ax through those suckers."

"Gargoyles?" Isabel asked, sitting forward. "What gargoyles?"

Bufavalous and Baljeetolus looked at each other, then back to the others. They clearly hadn't expected the topic of gargoyles to come up as such a shock.

"Gargoyles," Bufavalous repeated. "We've encountered one—count it: one—gargoyle about a moon ago. Destroyed half the town all on its own. Got a lot of good folks."

"It was here, then gone," Baljeetolus said. "We only saw it once."

"We got lucky," Bufavalous said. "Swords didn't work on the gargoyle. Bounced right off its skin, the one shot I had on it with my ax. Make meatlings look like chump change."

Isabel realized she'd accidentally made the fire burn higher and hotter with her nerves. She swallowed and took a calming breath, and the fire died down again, but it wasn't missed by Bufavalous.

Isabel didn't think it was much of a stretch to say that Bufavalous didn't like her very much. He'd made that clear earlier, when he'd launched into a surprisingly accusatory question session in which he inquired about what he called her "half-cocked hocus pocus." He'd quite vocally come to the conclusion that her "hysterical girly nature" was going to kill them all.

"It may not seem like it all that much, but this is good." Phineas' words were punctuated with a massive yawn, which spurred the same action from Isabel and Baljeetolus. The alchemist rubbed at his eyes, looking tired, but he smiled at them all. "Look at all we're already learning from each other."

They were starting to make a habit out of yawning, and it was getting more and more contagious. Phineas' last words were positive, and there was a silent agreement amongst the group to end the night with that attitude. They made small talk as they finished their food and settled down for bed, but the most substantial thing said was simply when Bufavalous claimed first watch. They went to sleep.

Phineas had a nightmare. It was the same as the night before: shards of glass—his parent's windows, dream logic told him—littered the ground. The orange sky was peppered gray, then smothered gray, and his half-corporeal form slowly choked on the air. But morning came soon enough, and dreams were just dreams. With the sunlight, Phineas shook it off. He would seize the day. There was no other way for him to live.

As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, Phineas registered Baljeetolus behind him speaking to Ferb in a quiet voice.

"It is certain to be a very easy journey, obtainable in half a day at most, if we sustain a similar pace to that used yesterday."

Ferb nodded in understanding, then smiled at his brother as he approached. Isabel was to Phineas' left, stretching up on her toes, her hands connected as she pushed them up to the sky. Bufavalous was kicking apart the fire, scattering the charred wood and ash with his heel. There would be no evidence they had been there.

"I did some thinking last night," Bufavalous declared, and to be honest, Phineas didn't know what to make of that. One never knew where the brute was going with such statements. "I'm pretty sure Pointy here—" He jabbed his thumb in Phineas' direction. "Can't fight worth a hill of beans. Green may hold his own, but he's still a pansy with a sword." He gestured vaguely at Ferb, then shrugged and finished, "And I sure as hell don't even want to know what Girlie looks like in a fight."

"Gee, Byoof," Isabel half-sighed, half-laughed, "way to boost team morale."

"Hey, touchy feely sentiment ain't going to count for nothing with a sword in your chest," Bufavalous shot right back, and though Phineas wasn't sure that he agreed, he knew the brute was kind of right. "Which brings me back to my thinking," he continued. "Like the nerd said, our travels to Amias won't take all day. We should use that to our advantage, give you guys some practical training once we're close."

"Training," Phineas repeated, though he wasn't sure if it was meant to be a question or a statement even as he said it.

"Teach you how to how to even hold a sword," Bufavalous huffed. "Heard from Green here that Girlie can have a mean swing when she wants, even took out one of Rogerick's men in Kaigate, but we'd have to start at square one with you, Pointy."

"Thanks a lot." Phineas gulped, and his ears went scarlet. Then Ferb took a step nearer and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I think it's a brilliant idea," the swordsman said simply.

There wouldn't be any arguing with it after that, even if Phineas knew any sort of training involving lifting and swinging swords would probably be embarrassing. He wasn't like his brother. He had scrawny arms. He was great with potions and problems, but there wasn't much athletic coordination needed with that. On the bright side, given the look Isabel shot him, Phineas knew he wasn't alone with his insecurities.

The day of travel seemed longer than the day before, though Phineas knew it was all in his head. The sun was high in the sky when they slowed, and Baljeetolus declared they were around a mark away from Amias. He put down his pack, and Phineas did the same with his satchel. He still had some potions inside, but pointing that out wouldn't get him out of training, so he stayed quiet.

And really, the notion of training didn't bother him. It was a good idea, one that could potentially save his life. No, the scary part was that Bufavalous wanted to be the trainer. Phineas was certain he wouldn't meet the brute's standards, and he was sure to get a few bruises along the way.

The thick, mossy sprawl of trees gave way to grassy fields. Yellow grain drew up to their shins in some places, their hips in others. They stayed close to the edge of the forest, but the clear ground was perfect for what Bufavalous had in mind.

"Green's first," Bufavalous decreed, perhaps a little too much glee on his face as he drew his ax from his belt. Ferb raised an eyebrow, but drew Excaliferb nonetheless, which made Bufavalous' smile stretch even wider. "Why don't you show me what you got?"

Ferb knew he was going to be first, so this came as no surprise. He tried to picture Bufavalous as that watery practice dummy he'd fought at Lake Avalos, under the watchful eye of the Lady of the Puddle. The water figure moved and lunged, fighting like a man. This shouldn't be too difficult, right? At the very least, he should be able to keep himself from getting skewered.

Granted, Ferb remembered that night of training with Vanessa hadn't really done him any good against Southern, when they fought in Rogerick's study. In practically no time, he'd been disarmed and helpless before his enemy's blade.

Much to Ferb's chagrin, he wasn't faring much better this time. Bufavalous was a heavy hitter, but he was slow. As he swung his ax in an arc, then swiped it up, Ferb should have had no problem parrying, and yet, as his blade struck that of the ax, Ferb felt an incredible tremor up his arms. As he moved to meet each strike, he felt sluggish and maladroit.

Bufavalous hefted his ax above his head and brought it down in a mighty swipe, hitting Excaliferb near the handle. Just like that, it fell from Ferb's hands, and the swordsman knew if Bufavalous actually had mal intent, he'd be dead.

"What the hell was that?" Bufavalous bellowed. He got right up in Ferb's face, and Phineas had to give his brother credit, because he didn't step back. In fact, he had no reaction to the blustering of the warrior in front of him.

Ferb shrugged. Really, what had the brute been expecting? Ferb hadn't fought for years like the brute.

"No, no, no," Bufavalous huffed. "No, I know you couldn't have survived this long if that's the best you've got. So I'm gonna' ask this one more time: what the hell was that?"

"It feels different when I fight humans," Ferb said. It felt exceptionally true as he said it, so much so that he couldn't help but say more. "I can slice through meatlings or Gnormes with ease. The sword feels right, the motions fluid. Then I fight Southern, or you, or even that daft man in the woods, and it's different. The sword simply feels… difficult in my hand."

Bufavalous raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Didn't know you could talk that much," he mumbled, but when Ferb rolled his eyes, the brute uncrossed his arms and continued. "You're just making excuses. Feels different fighting a human because it feels different fighting a human." He tapped a finger against his forehead. "It's all in that grass-topped head of yours."

Ferb knew Bufavalous must have been right, and yet he wasn't sure. That seemed like the simplest answer; he was hesitant to fight his own kind, and that reflected in his swordplay. But that also didn't feel accurate. His sword genuinely felt heavier and slower. That couldn't possibly be in his head, could it?

But then Ferb had a thought: in his head or not, it didn't matter. Because it was something that was getting in his way, and he had to do and be the best he could regardless. He blew out a puff of air, picked up Excaliferb, and nodded his head at Bufavalous; bring it on.

Was that approval in the brute's eyes? Ferb couldn't ponder the possibility for long, as there was once again an ax swinging straight at him. He parried, pushed the blade back, and slashed out, and although Bufavalous had clearly expected the mechanical movements, he hadn't been expecting the new drive Ferb put into each swipe. They kicked their sparring match up a notch.

Phineas, Isabel, and Baljeetolus sat, watching, with their backs to the trees. The sun was high in the sky, and for the first time in a while, there weren't too many storm clouds. It was actually warm, but they were close enough that the trees stretched shade across the grassy ground like inky fingers.

Bufavalous' abuse of Ferb continued for some time, though Phineas' admiration for his brother only grew as it did. The three on the sidelines cheered every time Ferb would parry then strike—only to stop himself, because his success would have been fatal for Bufavalous. Such occurrences were becoming more and more frequent, and Phineas loved watching it. He knew his brother was great, but he truly seemed capable of mastering anything laid before him.

Eventually the sun advanced enough that they lost their shade, but they weren't complaining. The sun was such a massive change of pace from Malifishmirtz's magically induced rainstorms that they soaked up every ray they could get.

Phineas beamed at Isabel, sitting next to him. She was watching Ferb, a proud smile on her face. She laughed as one of Ferb's swings grazed half an inch off the bottom of Bufavalous' beard, but something about her wasn't right for Phineas. He felt uneasy, and he realized it was her posture. She was hunched over herself, her arms wrapped around her stomach like they had often been since they'd fled Kaigate. Something wasn't right with that. He was about to bring it up, but then Bufavalous called out to him.

"Alright, wizardling," he huffed, swinging his ax in his hand. "Your turn."

Phineas knew it was best not to argue with Bufavalous. He made a mental note to ask Isabel about his observations later, and stood.

Ferb strolled over, wiping his sword-free hand across his forehead. He had a pretty big smile on his face; to the surprise of everyone—and probably most shocking of all to himself—Ferb had held his own against the brute. Bufavalous called little tips about sword position and force here and there, but the eldest brother more than proved he could handle himself. Phineas knew he would be a different story.

Ferb gave him a reassuring nod and held Excaliferb out by the hilt. Phineas smiled, trying to let his brother know the support was appreciated. As he reached out to take the sword, Phineas even felt a little excited. He could see what it was like to be his brother. While he was sure to be awful with it, maybe it would be fun to get some training with a sword. Phineas sheathed himself in such thoughts, and when he wrapped his fingers around the Excaliferb's hilt, he even managed to bolster some of his usual enthusiasm.

Ferb let go of his sword—and Phineas fell forward as the weight pulled him to the ground.

Phineas couldn't fully comprehend what happened for a few seconds. He tried to stand, but his attempts to lift Excaliferb with him got him nowhere. The sword was so incredibly heavy! How on earth did Ferb manage to wield it?

"What's wrong?" Ferb questioned, getting down to his level. He looked like he wasn't sure what to do with his hands, or how to make sure he was all right. Isabel was suddenly next to him too, and Baljeetolus and Bufavalous joined, though they remained standing.

"I'm fine," Phineas said quickly. "I'm fine, I just didn't expect it to be so… heavy."

Phineas let go of the sword hilt and stood, dusting off his knees. He reached down for the blade again, thinking maybe he hadn't been ready, or maybe he hadn't been holding it correctly. He wasn't that physically inept, after all. Even if he couldn't wield a sword as well as his brother, he definitely could hold one and swing it around. He experimentally tugged up, trying to lift Excaliferb from the ground. He could shift it around a little, like one might shove a giant sack of flour on the floor, but he sure as heck couldn't pick it up.

"Heavy?" Ferb said, and he sounded genuinely confused. He scooped Excaliferb from the ground like it was nothing—as light as a feather. He immediately looked embarrassed, like the rest might think he was showing off, but Phineas' mind was churning.

"No, it's just you," Phineas said. "It's your sword. It's your—Bufavalous, try to lift it!"

The warrior looked taken aback by this sudden demand. His face flushed with indignation. "Are you instigating that I—"

"Insinuating," Baljeetolus corrected.

"Insinuating that I can't hold a little girly sword like that?" Bufavalous finished like the elf never spoke at all. He blew through his nose and snatched Excaliferb from Ferb's hand. Just like Phineas, he fell forward, dragged down by the sword's incredible weight. The brute blinked furiously and cursed. "What the hell?"

"How fascinating," Baljeetolus mused. "It appears Ferbalot is the only one who can use Excaliferb. I do suppose that makes sense, considering he was the one chosen by the Lady of the Lake, and drew the sword from the stone."

To further prove his statement, Baljeetolus bent down and attempted to pick up the sword. Just as with the other two, he could only shift it around. He couldn't lift it.

Isabel felt something cold slink down to the pit of her stomach. It stayed there, a growing uneasiness that made it hard for her to breathe. She hoped no one would say it. She really hoped no one would say it. And of course, someone did.

"But Isabel used Excaliferb," Phineas said, glancing up from the sword to meet her eyes. "You used it, back in Rogerick's study. You hit Alis when he was threatening Ferb."

Ferb nodded in agreement, then gestured down at Excaliferb. He gave her a pointed look; go ahead.

Isabel swallowed hard. The burden of their gazes was intense. Could she deny picking up the sword? It wouldn't make any sense for her to avoid the demand. She had absolutely no reason not to other than pure nerves. And that wasn't a good enough reason.

Isabel bent down and picked up Excaliferb. It was incredibly heavy, even more so than last time, when the panic of the moment made her stronger. Without the danger, it was even harder to hold. It would be a hassle to swing and walk with. But she was holding it nonetheless.

"I do not understand," Baljeetolus said, his eyes darting from her face to the blade at an alarming rate. "We could not hold the sword like Ferb could, but you—"

"It's really heavy," Isabel blurted out, thinking maybe that might make a difference in the amazed looks they were sending her way. "I mean, it's completely impractical. I can't wield it like Ferb can."

"But you can hold it," Phineas said. As always, he was smiling. "It must be because you're a fairy. I mean, that's the only real difference between you and the rest of us."

Ferb lifted his hand, quirking his eyebrow in a way that said, well, I'm not a fairy.

As obvious as that acknowledgment was, it made Phineas realize maybe he had to think outside of the box. Maybe it wasn't simply that Isabel was different from the rest of them, but that Ferb had something in common with Isabel? What did Ferb have that made him different from the others? And then Phineas thought of another question, one that he absolutely could not believe he hadn't pondered much before: why was it Ferb who pulled the sword from the stone?

When that question hit Phineas, it was as heavy as a boulder. Ferb was awesome. If there was one thing Phineas was absolutely certain of, it was that fact. His older brother was incredibly amazing, which meant his being special enough to pull a magical sword from a stone seemed pretty obvious, in Phineas' eyes. But it what if it was more than that?

Phineas hated comparing himself to his brother. Really, it was massively uncomfortable to even goad. But Phineas felt that many of Ferb's virtues—creativity, ingenuity, determination, altruism, integrity—were qualities he possessed, too, and yet he couldn't lift Excaliferb. Phineas was by no means jealous, but it only perpetuated the question of what about Ferb tied him to that sword. Phineas reckoned being awesomely amazing didn't quite work for an answer anymore.

"Well, looks like you cut to the front of the line, Girlie," Bufavalous stated, and before any of them could really comprehend what he meant by that, he hefted up his ax. Out of instinct, they all jumped back, and Bufavalous started toward Isabel.

"What?" she squeaked, scampering back like a doe. "I don't want to train. I don't want to fight you."

"You don't want to fight anyone ever, but on giant death quests, that's part of the job," Bufavalous said. He swung his ax at her, but the movement was slow—far slower than Isabel knew he was capable of. Instead of engaging, the fairy moved farther back, still dragging Excaliferb with her.

"Okay, let me rephrase: you don't want to fight me," Isabel stuttered, and Bufavalous let out a cackle of a laugh.

"Right," he mused. Then he looked behind him. "Green, you stay out of this. She's gotta' learn how to fight. This'll be good for her."

Isabel looked to Ferb. He didn't look pleased, but he also didn't look like he was about to jump in. For him, training had been beneficial. But for him, it wouldbe beneficial. Isabel didn't want to fight. She didn't want to feel that frenzy of panic and excitement that came with it.

"No, Byoof, please don't—" she tried, but he lunged for her. Out of instinct, she raised Excaliferb, and just barely managed to position it in front of his ax. Wham. The blade fell from her hand.

"So you lost your sword," Bufavalous stated. Then, to her absolute horror, he swiped at her. She barely dove out of the way. "A real fight doesn't stop there. A real fight keeps going until one of you is dead." He hefted his ax up, then sent it down, and she barely scrambled back enough for it to cleave the dirt between her legs. "In a real fight, you've got to be smart enough to know what to do now."

Isabel pushed herself to her feet and sprinted in the opposite direction. If she weren't so worried about the brute behind her, she would have been proud of how much stronger and more coordinated she was with her legs already, but there were other things. Her stomach was burning with each movement, and she was defenseless.

No. No, she wasn't defenseless. And that was a problem.

"Bufavalous, please," she called over to him. "Don't fight me. Please don't—"

"Fellowship!" Bufavalous bellowed as a battle cry, and he charged.

Isabel was aware of many things. She was aware of Phineas calling out, "Maybe this isn't a good idea." She was aware of Bufavalous' strides, the way they were long and swift, and the way they closed the distance between them far too quickly. She was aware of her empty hands, and how they rose with an instinctual need to protect her.

Bufavalous was in front of her, ax already in motion, with "What'cha gonna' do?" coming from his mouth, and Isabel was aware of something else: she wasn't scared of him. She wasn't scared at all. She was angry. The brute refused to listen to her, and he was being foolish, and of course she had no idea how to fight!

She felt it. She felt her veins tug with magic, only this time it wasn't an uncomfortable feeling. It was pleasant, this sort of power. It felt like justice, and she didn't fight it. She let it go. She refused to be hurt again.

And then Bufavalous was gone.

But no, Isabel realized, he wasn't gone. She tried to warn him—oh, how desperately she tried to warn him! But he just kept attacking her, and he angered her, and now—now this! They gaped down at Bufavalous on the ground—only he wasn't quite Bufavalous. Somehow, someway, Isabel's magic did the absolute impossible.

Bufavalous was lying in the grass. And he was a dormouse.

Review, please!

He's a mouse. Yup. That's a thing.

Lots has been happening in the past few chapters. A lot is going on in this story, a lot of subplots and hints given that have yet to be illuminated or explained. I can say pretty much everything is intentional (as in truly plot-related intentional. Booya!). So. That makes me curious: what have you guys caught onto? Have you formed any of your own predictions? I'd love to hear them! They're absolutely delightful.

On that note, if you leave a prediction and you'd like me to tell me if you're right or wrong (or perhaps a mix of both), just leave a little "PM me" note in the review, and I'll gladly converse with you!

Anyhoo, enjoy your Valentine's Day, whether you're out on the town, or curled up with a good book! Stay safe, and see you soon!

Love, Lilly-Belle