Hey guys! Haven't seen these two in a while have we? Lets get them in the story!

-Meanwhile (again) -

Xephos sat up, coughing and spluttering and looked up at Honeydew who was watching him. He frowned when he saw him sit up and pushed him on the shoulder gently,

"Easy there." He said softly.

Xephos resisted him and used his elbows to keep himself from falling back. He tried to say something but fell into a coughing fit and eventually gave up. He scrunched his eyes shut to try and black out the blazing sun and drew a deep breath, finally filling his lungs with air. Something trickled down his face, he didn't dare touch it for fear it would cause him pain so simply groaned in exhaustion.

The dwarf repositioned himself and used a cloth to wipe the blood from Xephos' face. He was worried, the blood should have clotted and stopped bleeding by now. Xephos was uneasy, his bright blue eyes tracking the dwarf's every move as if he were some kind of cat, tracing its prey. He tried to speak again, this time with more success,

"What happened? Where is Rythian and Cynda?" He asked, almost falling for another coughing fit but catching himself before he did.

Honeydew looked at him with concern and answered his question as truthfully as he could, "You fell and hit your head escaping the explosion. The whole of Khaz Modan has been destroyed by someone, or something and- and well, I don't know where the Enderborns are. The last I saw of Rythian was when he went to find Cynda."

Xephos drew another quick breath and tried to get up, his feet had pins and needles but that was the least of his problems.

"We still need fuel for the ship and unless you plan on going back down to- well there. We need to mine out some coal or something." He said, his professionalism returning with avengance.

Honeydew's eyes brightened at the last few words as he pulled a pickaxe from a sheath on his back, much like Xephos' but designed for the instrument. It was far larger than what Xephos had expected considering the dwarf's size but he realised they were a mining race and were built to carry such tools. The pick its self had delicate markings and carvings on it and the handle that would have taken a master craftsmen to carve.

"You dwarfs sure do like your carvings don't you?" He asked rhetorically.

Honeydew chuckled, "We pride ourselves on them, beef, pork and even stone sometimes."

Xephos tried not to laugh because it would provoke another fit but it was difficult and ended up emitting a kind of choking bird on a dying fish laugh. Honeydew looked at him puzzled and stopped walking for a brief moment before Xephos looked up at him and told him he was fine. He shrugged and continued walking toward another stone pillar on the barren surface of the planet. As they approached they saw this tower too had been part destroyed by the explosion but Honeydew did not seem alarmed. He searched around the base of the tower, studying the stones it had brought up and smiled as he did so, indicating he had found something.

"Do you know what you are looking for?" Xephos asked doubtfully.

Honeydew just looked at him with an odd smile and began mining away at the rock he had just been looking at. As the pick chipped away the stone a massive chunk of coal, about the size of Xeph's foot emerged from the stone it was buried in. Xeph smiled and shook his head at the apparent answer to his question and muttered to himself, of course he did.

Since he had no knack for knowing where to dig or mine he simply watched the dwarf as he managed to unveil the chucks of not-quite-so precious stone and asked him questions as he did so. It came to his awareness that Honeydew, or Simon, as he had later told him, was only a year or two older than he was, despite his grand beard. Simon had also asked about Xephos, where he came from, what it was like to be a prince and what the deal was with the two Enderborn who seemed inseparable. For many of the questions Lewis had no real answer other than that they had left the planet in a hurry as both sides were left without a king. This perked Simon's questions even more, why doesn't she want to rule? Was all he could think of but he knew better than to ask.

He continued to explain about the situation among the Humans and the Enderborn and how his father had come to ruin the mutual trust they had gained. Supposing his only other son took over, there would be wars involving the overall ruler of the entire planet. The Enderborn were far more powerful than any of the humans and it would end with a war, almost certainly, or so he thought.

During all of this Simon had amassed a large pile of coal and unrefined iron from his work. He seemed to love it and during any silence or lull in the conversation there would be the constant and rhythmic tapping of the pickaxe against the rock. It was peaceful for a change, no running anywhere or trying to hide from others, just watching the time pass and talking to someone who had many tales to tell. He thought about Rythian and Cynda and realised he may not have been completely truthful about what had happened. He had watched as Rythian freaked, trying to find his sister who was almost definitely dead from the explosion, he wouldn't tell Xephos, the main reason being that he would most likely kill himself trying to find them.

"How much coal do we need to get outta here?" Simon asked, breaking the silence that had fallen when he had stopped mining.

Xephos looked over what the dwarf had dug, he felt quite lazy because the whole time he had done nothing.

"Getting into orbit will take-" He paused and calculated for a minute, "Over 7000 KJ-" He thought again for a while, "Which is, 4 metric tons of coal-" It was clear there was something bugging him, this was normally clock work calculation yet it was taking him minutes, "Assuming we can get full production from it and not waste any energy." He finished, rather flustered.

The dwarf looked at the pile and nodded, obviously doing some calculations of his own and began mining once again. Humming a little tune which slowly began to form words an a rhythm as he mined.

"I am a dwarf and I'm digging a hole, diggy diggy hole, dig diggy hole. I am a dwarf and I'm digging a hole dig dig the hole, diggy diggy hole. Dwarf hole, dig dig the hole. Dwarf hole, dig dig the hole." He hummed. Each rendition adding more words and more complicated rhythms as he dug around large chunks of unbreakable rocks.

Lewis watched and chuckled as he sung; he was surprisingly good considering he wasn't even paying attention to what he was doing.