Hey! Two more reviews for this story while I was sick! Cool.

Alright, another chapter for you three!

And to calenore (which, by the way, is really fun to pronounce, even if I'm getting it wrong)… you are meant to wonder at the narrator's identity, so don't worry! It will be cleared up soon.

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"Please tell me you're joking," I demanded as a familiar form entered the door, looking with interest at the two new swords I had just hung up that morning.

"Just stopping by," Leaf grinned, running his finger lightly over the script I'd scrolled along a curving blade. "How has business been?"

"Blessedly steady," I answered with a small smile.

"Verses slow?"

"Verses hectic." I retorted at once as I moved around, cleaning up my work area. "I've actually cleared off the door, and had a chance for some creative play."

"So I see," he murmured, turning back to the wall. He tilted his head.

"Go ahead," I agreed, leaning back on the table, crossing my arms over my chest as he gently lifted the more ornate sword—the one with the curved blade and script—into his fingers.

Reverently he ran his finger along the blade, testing its strength and sharpness against his fingers. He held it out perfectly straight, then let the blade swoop down, lightly holding it as it arched around his wrist, a quick and deft movement returning it to upright display. He nodded and slowly set it back up on the wall. "When you're open to orders," he drawled, "I'll be here."

"Need one that bad?" I asked, one brow lifted at his display. He was obviously very comfortable around weapons.

"Not really… Father will probably order me a sword for my birthday… if it doesn't come from you, I'll be back."

"That's in a while, isn't it?"

"Four months," he agreed absently. A faint frown came to his brow. "Around the time of the prince's party, in fact—I've been invited to join the throng of well-wishers. And to invite anyone I like."

"That close to the prince, are you?"

"As close as anyone," he quietly agreed. "Care to keep me company?"

I studied him with a frown for a long moment, noting the way he didn't look at me, as if this was a casual offer… but somehow it didn't feel like one. Perhaps because he hadn't looked at me once since beginning to speak of his and the prince's birthdays. "I'm sure you have plenty of friends already planning—"

He shook his head. "Not truly. Hundreds who know me on sight, but no true friends."

"I find that hard to believe." That was true enough. In fact, I was on the shocked side at the very idea. Leaf had been the most outgoing of our group, often pausing our games to talk with another elf from a different group. Most of the time things were cordial enough between groups—at least when they weren't playing at war—but he had had many friends outside of ours.

His lips pursed for a moment, then he seemed to catch himself, turning a bit farther away. All I could see of his face was a tight muscle beginning to twitch in his jaw. "I have no reason to lie to you."

Things I could say battled between my ears, but for once my more gentle—and usually repressed—nature took over. I weighed the risks and boredom factors quickly, knowing even as I did so what I was going to decide and say—damning all the rest along with common sense. "Well, as long as Father doesn't find out and forbid it—"

He turned to look at me, disbelief on his face. "You still bow to your father's authority?"

"Don't you?"

"That's somewhat diff—"

"Do you want me there, or not?" I snapped, narrowing my eyes. My father had always been a touchy subject of mine—I preferred to avoid mention or thought of him in any way I could.

He closed his mouth, his jaw tight for a long moment while we glared at each other. He exhaled, his eyes drifting shut. When they opened, bright and rueful, a small smile curved his lips. "You will try?"

That look in his eyes said it was all alright, and we both knew it. "I said I would," I agreed, sounding crosser than I felt.

A crooked grin called me on it, and he nodded once, calling an end to the argument in its entirety. Some commotion drew his attention to the outside world, his brows drawn in a severe frown after listening for a moment. "It appears I must go," he murmured, bowing his head towards me in such an automatic fashion it was easy to picture him dealing with the social niceties of the halls every day. He left without awaiting a reply, the light swallowing him up as he left the main room.

I snorted at him and shook my head, before returning to my sketch book, making some doodles for a while before I began flipping through all the pages, seeing ones I had improved upon, discarded, and created in metal.

"Busy, dear elf?" a quiet voice asked.

Smiling without looking up from one design I had always loved, I shook my head. "Not yet."

When I looked up, Taradriel was looking at the design. "It's—" I snapped the book shut. "Lovely," she finished. "You can't keep doing this," she insisted, "you aren't—"

"Can I help you with something, Tara?" I asked sharply, my voice sinking low, warning her not to continue with the same old line.

She sighed, her eyes growing a bit shadowed for a long minute. Some resolve lit her face, and she nodded shortly. "Yes," she agreed, lifting her chin in defiance against things that had long since been said and done. "You can create that as a pendant for me—of mithril. Have it ready by the prince's birthday. I have a dear friend who will be wearing it to the celebration."

"Very well," I agreed. "Haradan will take the order."

"You will create it?"

"Of course, Tara," I agreed softly, silently reminding her I had done all the work in this shop since I'd learned well enough how to do so.

She looked at me for a long moment, and then smiled. "Dear elf," she murmured softly, "I shall pray for you, as ever I have."

"The stars alone will know the truth, Tara. No one else ever shall."

"You are not your brother. You never truly can be Lyran, you do know that."

"Yes," I agreed. "But it has been many years since I have been anything other than my father's son." I leaned back in the chair. "Is that all?" I asked a bit harshly, still not interested in going over this argument yet again.

With a soft sigh she held out a basket.

Some of my newly resurrected barrier against her melted, seeing that. I considered protesting that I could damned well make my own lunch, that I knew enough of cooking to handle that—but I didn't, because she knew all of that. After all, she had taught me everything I knew about keeping my flet running and life in my veins. She brought me lunch because she knew I forgot mine pretty much every day—I get rather involved and enthusiastic about new aspects of my craft, which makes me fairly absent minded, no matter how I might growl and complain to or about Leaf—and either went without or took off longer than I liked to get something that wasn't usually worth getting either from the village or my flet. I accepted the basket with a rueful smile. "I've got a deer bleeding out," I murmured in way of acceptance and thanks.

She nodded. "I have the time," she agreed.

I nodded, knowing that when I got home my lucky morning kill would have been turned into dinner, a skin, and meals for both of us—and her sister—for the next week. She cooked my lunch and dinner fairly often, and she got over half of any animal I happened to kill. It worked. That way I didn't go around half starved, and she didn't have to barter for marked up meat at the market in the village, except when I was too busy to hunt or there was nothing to find. "I'll bring it around when it's done," I murmured, tapping the sketch book lightly.

With a nod she headed to the door. "You have found you have quite a gift for this craft—but don't let it convince you to hide who you are."

I didn't bother to force a smile out of my affection for her, as she was neither expecting it, nor any longer in the room. I flipped my sketch book open to the page, seeing the times when I had started to change some aspect only to put it back as it had been. At the time, I had thought of it as a design to be inlaid on a handle, or a sheath. Maybe even the overlay on a shield. Never had I considered turning my design into a piece of jewelry.

Why would I? I never wore the stuff.