How did he know that? Jarsha wondered seconds later as, free from his dazed stupor, he trooped outside and plopped onto the grass. How is it even remotely possible that he knows that I like Milda more than a friend?

"Because, you see, Jarsha, it is a thing many people know after careful hours of observation."

Jarsha did a double take. Right there, standing in front of him, was Mirofr.

"I— I—"

Quickly realizing he had been saying what he had been thinking, Jarsha blushed. Turning his eyes upward to the elf as he solemnly sat down upon the grass, he asked, "Is it that – for lack of a better word – obvious?"

Mirofr stated gravely, "Evident would have suited the purpose." He crossed his arms, setting his wrists into the folds of his silk garment. "No, but a mother knows." He paused thoughtfully. "And so do elves who are scores – nay, centuries – of years older than you are."

"What about Father?" Jarsha blurted out.

Mirofr shook his head, a twinkle in his eye. "No, indeed not. By chance, I happened to hear Myrna confiding on the subject in him."

"You were eavesdropping!" Jarsha accused, a nervous grin on his face; Mirofr merely gave him a cool glance.

"Anyway," began the elf, delicately fiddling with a fallen leaf that he plucked from the grass below them, "recently you expressed a strong desire to accompany Milda on her journey for her training in Ellesméra."

"I did?" replied Jarsha with a frown, trying to avoid the elf's gaze. He hadn't – that had been Milda, of course – but he couldn't help but wonder –- how did Mirofr know?

Mirofr cocked his head to the side and keenly observed the teenager. "You did," he encouraged, "for though you did not actually put voice to these feelings, I happened to catch a brief glance of your conversation yesterday."

"You were eavesdropping!" Jarsha repeated. He fell silent when Mirofr gave him a sharp look.

"No matter how it happens to be, I am sure that you are aware of this. No?" He blinked, wondering how Jarsha would act to the enigma. Mirofr knew, of course, that the boy hadn't said anything when Milda had proposed the idea to him, but there were other ways he knew. Mirofr was something of a psychologist in his own right, and he knew perfectly well that the excitement Jarsha had applied to tell his story the day before had been induced, of course, by those thoughts Milda had instilled within his mind earlier on. Yes, he had heard the story, too – indeed, he'd seen and listened to lots of things few humans even knew the existence of.

"I… I… I guess so," Jarsha finally admitted with some hesitation. Finally bringing his gaze up to Mirofr's dark orbs, he wrinkled his nose. "I still don't understand how you knew that, though."

"I have my ways," his teacher replied serenely, looking down at the leaf clutched in his spindly fingers. "Ways that I shall not impart with you for some while."

Some while, mulled Jarsha thoughtfully. That means I'll find out eventually.

"But not yet," said Mirofr with a wise nod, cutting through Jarsha's thoughts as if he'd read the teenager's mind. "On a happier note, your mother was recently talking to me. We were discussing what is going to happen when Milda leaves for her training." He sighed deeply and pressed two fingers against his temple. "Eventually Myrna and I came to a decision; you are allowed to join Milda on the way to Ellesméra, provided you watch and pay attention to what is going on. It will count as part of your lessons; I will accompany you. However, no written work shall be necessary."

"Great!" said Jarsha happily. "When do we leave?"

"In two weeks." Mirofr posed his chin on his hands. "In the meanwhile, Milda will be tested for her competency in the ancient language, of which she has been taught by an educated woman named Nolen. She will teach you, in time, as well."

Learning the ancient language suited Jarsha. He didn't know what he'd like to do when he grew up; becoming a spellcaster of the Varden's Du Vrangr Gata sounded fairly interesting in its own right. That, of course, required knowledge of the ancient language.

--------------------------------

"Yay!" shouted Merrick a few days later.

Jarsha grinned at the little one, who was standing protectively beside Alden and Nanette with a large, club-like stick curled in one tiny hand. The young storyteller knew perfectly well what Merrick planned to do with it; he had told the crowd of story-listeners about his plight earlier on, shortly after the closing of the third instalment of his story about the Dragon Rider Romena. Merrick, just like Alden, apparently wanted to come along. Ellesméra, after all, was Ellesméra; a lot of the younger folk wanted to accompany Milda to the ancient elven capital.

Jarsha hopped off the stool and sprinted lightly toward the fateful trio as the regular crowd broke up, chattering excitedly. There stood Merrick, the stick clasped firmly in one little paw as, eyes shining, he scampered forward to meet his idol.

"Hello, sir!" Merrick called brightly as Jarsha came to kneel down beside him, ruffling his haphazard locks. Squealing with delight, Merrick turned his glowing eyes toward the sky. "Can I come too?"

Jarsha shook his head. "No. It's for big kids only."

"Y'mean like Nanette?" added Alden, gesturing. "She's big!"

"Actually…" Jarsha seemed to be thinking. "Nan, I heard something about you today."

"Yeah, look!" Nanette, who had turned ten the day earlier, pulled a large, sunbeam-coloured stone from the depths of the rucksack strapped across her back. Its orange splotches and yellow stripes made quite a contrast to her dark, Surdan skin. "Look at this, Jarsha! It's a dragon's egg!"

"A dragon's egg?" quested the teenager, his eyes widening. "Where'd you get it?"

"Where do you think?" said Nanette, and giggled childishly. Usually she was fairly mature and responsible for her ages, but – perhaps in the presence of one who was yet older than her, perhaps because she wanted to be mischievous, perhaps for some other reason – she was acting like one of her smaller friends. "They told us to walk before the egg, touching it to see if we were able of being a Dragon Rider, this morning. I did that, and when I did, it started to shake and tremble right before my eyes. Mirofr was there, and he told me to hang onto it. It's one of Saphira's eggs, you know."

"Can I see it?" Jarsha asked politely. Nanette presented it to him, and he ran a hand reflectively down its smooth surface. "You say Mirofr told you to keep it?"

She nodded silently, her responsible nature quickly regained.

"What did he say?"

"He said that the dragon will hatch at dawn the day after tomorrow," Nanette recited, accepting the egg as Jarsha handed it back to her and replacing it. "He told me to come to this spot after the egg hatches."

"I suppose he wanted to make his hatching dramatic." Jarsha grinned. "I guess that means you'll be coming with us?"

She shrugged modestly. "According to legend, Brom was ten when he started his training. I turned ten yesterday – I guess that means I'll be coming with you, aye."

"Nan! Nan!" Alden, who had been standing quietly with Merrick until this moment, now ran to his friend. "Are you sure we can't come, too?"

"No, I don't think so," said Nanette with a smile, stroking his hair. "Maybe someday."

Merrick, however, had lost his former enthusiasm and seemed to be already accepting the defeat. "Maybe," he agreed forlornly.

"I'm going to come, too," added Jarsha absently, dropping down onto the grass beside the younger girl and picking up Alden, planting the child on his lap. Not focusing, he undid the laces on the four year-old's shoes, and, with a vague smile, began to tickle the soles of his feet. Alden writhed and shrieked with happiness, and Jarsha grinned.

"Why?" asked Nanette, gesturing to Merrick so that he came to sit quietly beside her. She turned surprised eyes on him. "You're a Rider? I figure I would have known."

Jarsha lifted his shoulders slightly, tickling Alden's tiny feet harder so that he giggled uncontrollably, squirming in delight. "No, but four years ago I was a messenger boy for the Varden. I guess that means I'll probably have to ferry messages from Du Weldenvarden to them, but I can't say it won't be worth it."

Nanette tucked a strand of dark hair out of her face, inviting Merrick the expanse of her own lap. Merrick glanced at her crossed legs sullenly, then slowly clambered in. "You're unhappy, aren't you, little guy?" she crooned softly.

"I wanna go with you an' Sir," confessed Merrick, a sad look in his brown eyes as he stretched his diminutive size across her thighs.

Nanette sighed. "I know," she whispered, softly patting his cheek. Merrick, seeming to understand that there was nothing that could be done about it, sighed and gave a passing glance to Alden, who had fallen into slumber upon Jarsha's lap. With another dejected sigh, he spread himself on Nanette's lap and promptly began to doze.

"Shade's blood, that was fast," said Jarsha with a grin as the young one's breathing became regular; intently aware of Alden's small, fragile body, he deposited him safely onto the grass. Nanette followed suit, perching her fist on her chin. "I never saw him go to sleep so quickly after he was unhappy."

Nanette shrugged indecisively, undoing the straps of her rucksack to paw with the dragon's egg. "Merrick's pretty smart for a five year-old," she smiled.

"You know, Nan, I don't think there's been a Dragon Rider as young as you in quite a while." Jarsha stretched himself luxuriously on the grass, taking care not to wake the little ones; Nanette stayed in her position, head still perched upon her hand. "Leastways, the last one was Milton, from Teirm."

"He probably wasn't any more special than I am," replied Nanette, shrugging. "I mean, I don't think I'm that special."

"Aye, that's what you say." Jarsha lifted his head slightly to toss her a gigantic wink, feeling Milda-ish with the gesture.