Why a year? Demigods have so many advantages, I need a reasonable amount of time to give my oc a fighting chance... even the weakest demigod starts off super strong, faster, durable and they all heal faster. Some more so than others, I needed a realistic time to develop.

I am sorry for the change, but the last story sucked bad. All tell and no show...

Everything about this story is superior...

"... So an old lady just gave you the grimoire, and just knew your name?" Chiron started. "It is likely she was a priestess of Hecate, eager to pass on the notions of magic to those that were receptive to it. Right place at the right time, sort of deal. You were very lucky, to have managed to be there when you were if Fate was not on your side."

The boy nodded, smiling softly. "Yeah, I was lucky." The boy said, his heart aching with the happiness that memory brought in him. "Mr. D called me a Priest in training, what did he mean by that?"

"All magic wielders, those focusing on the craft, honoring magic... well they are considered her Priests or Priestesses. If you were not considered that, Lady Hecate would never have allowed you into this place. Would you accept that role?"

"Can I think about it first, I'd rather read the contract before I sign the doted line.:

That made Chiron smile. "A Wise choice."

Percy turned to him. " You really are a witch?"

Rowan lifted a hand, summoning a tiny flicker of fire on his fingertips making Percy gap. "It's true, hard but true. Magic is not inherently easy. I have no natural powers, or the extended life force of a demigod like you." Percy just nodded slowly, his mind clearly adjusting to his new reality.

They passed the volleyball pit. Several of the campers nudged each other. One pointed to the minotaur horn Percy was carrying, which Rowan thought was amazing. Another said, "That's him." Most of the campers were older than them. Their satyr friends were bigger than Grover, all of them trotting around in orange CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirts, with nothing else to cover their bare shaggy hindquarters.

"What's up there?" Percy, looking back at the farm house, asked Chiron.

His smile faded. "Just the attic."

"Somebody lives there?"

"No," he said with finality. "Not a single living thing."

Rowan got the feeling he was being truthful, but he sensed something as they pointed, a potent everlasting force that while extremely powerful was not harmful by nature...

"Come along, Percy, Rowan" Chiron said, his lighthearted tone now a little forced. "Lots to see." They walked through the strawberry fields, where campers were picking bushels of berries while a satyr played a tune on a reed pipe. Chiron told them the camp grew a nice crop for export to New York restaurants and Mount Olympus. "It pays our expenses," he explained. "And the strawberries take almost no effort." He said Mr. D had this effect on fruit-bearing plants: they just went crazy when he was around. It worked best with wine grapes, but Mr. D was restricted from growing those, so they grew strawberries instead.

They watched the satyr playing his pipe. His music was causing lines of bugs to leave the strawberry patch in every direction, like refugees fleeing a fire.

Percy turned to him. "Can you do that?"

"That specific spell, no, but I am sure I could learn." He turned his gaze to Chiron. "Could I?"

The man hesitated. "I am not sure if Humans could learn Satyr magic... maybe? If not that specifically, maybe a human version."

"Grover won't get in too much trouble, will he?" Percy suddenly asked Chiron. "I mean ... he was a good protector. Really."

Chiron sighed. He shed his tweed jacket and draped it over his horses back like a saddle. "Grover has big dreams, Percy. Perhaps bigger than are reasonable. To reach his goal, he must first demonstrate great courage by succeeding as a keeper, finding a new camper and bringing him safely to Half-Blood Hill."

"But he did that!"

"I might agree with you," Chiron said. "But it is not my place to judge. Dionysus and the Council of Cloven Elders must decide. I'm afraid they might not see this assignment as a success. After all, Grover lost you in New York. Then there's the unfortunate ... ah ... fate of your mother. And the fact that Grover was unconscious when you dragged him over the property line. The council might question whether this shows any courage on Grover's part."

"He'll get a second chance, won't he?"

Chiron winced. "I'm afraid that was Grover's second chance, Percy. The council was not anxious to give him another, either, after what happened the first time, five years ago. Olympus knows, I advised him to wait longer before trying again. He's still so small for his age... ."

"How old is he?"

"Oh, twenty-eight."

"What! And he's in sixth grade?"

"Satyrs mature half as fast as humans, Percy. Grover has been the equivalent of a middle school student for the past six years."

"That's horrible." And Rowan agreed.

"Quite," Chiron agreed. "At any rate, Grover is a late bloomer, even by satyr standards, and not yet very accom-plished at woodland magic. Alas, he was anxious to pursue his dream. Perhaps now he will find some other career... ."

"That's not fair," Percy said. "What happened the first time? Was it really so bad?"

Chiron looked away quickly. "Let's move along, shall we?"

"Chiron," Percy said. "If the gods and Olympus and all that are real ..."

"Yes, child?"

"Does that mean the Underworld is real, too?"

Chiron's expression darkened.

"Yes, child." He paused, as if choosing his words care-fully. "There is a place where spirits go after death. But for now ... until we know more ... I would urge you to put that out of your mind."

"What do you mean, 'until we know more'?"

"Come, Percy. Let's see the woods." The woods were amazingly thick, but to an odd point Rowan Sensed conscious life in it, like the trees were aware...he realized he was sensing Nymphs. Chiron said, "The woods are stocked, if you care to try your luck, but go armed."

"Stocked with what?" Percy asked. "Armed with what?"

"You'll see. Capture the flag is Friday night. Do you have your own sword and shield? Either of you?"

"My own-?"

"No," Chiron said. "I don't suppose you do. I think a size five will do for Percy, and a much smaller size for Rowan, my goodness you are a small child." Rowan smiled, it was true, he was a dainty guy. " I'll visit the armory later." The tour continued. They saw the archery range, the canoeing lake, the stables (which Chiron didn't seem to like very much), the javelin range, the sing-along amphitheater, and the arena where Chiron said they held sword and spear fights.

"Sword and spear fights?" Percy asked.

"Cabin challenges and all that," he explained. "Not lethal. Usually. Oh, yes, and there's the mess hall." Chiron pointed to an outdoor pavilion framed in white Grecian columns on a hill overlooking the sea. There were a dozen stone picnic tables. No roof. No walls.

"What do you do when it rains?" Percy wisely asked.

Chiron looked at me as if I'd gone a little weird. "We still have to eat, don't we?"

Rowan rolled his eyes. "Chiron, I can sense the weather wards, he can't."

The Centaur blushed. "Oh, that... how can you sense those?"

"I learned to cast basic weather wards. I was homeless for more than a year, it was the third set of wards I learned."

Finally, after they explained weather wards to Percy and restarted the tour, Chiron showed them the cabins. There were twelve of them, nestled in the woods by the lake. They were arranged in a U, with two at the base and five in a row on either side. And they were without doubt the most bizarre collection of buildings anyone had ever seen.

Except for the fact that each had a large brass number above the door (odds on the left side, evens on the right), they looked absolutely nothing alike. Number nine had smokestacks, like a tiny factory. Number four had tomato vines on the walls and a roof made out of real grass. Seven seemed to be made of solid gold, which gleamed so much in the sunlight it was almost impossible to look at. They all faced a commons area about the size of a soccer field, dot-ted with Greek statues, fountains, flower beds, and a couple of basketball hoops.

In the center of the field was a huge stone-lined firepit. Even though it was a warm afternoon, the hearth smoldered. A girl about nine years old was tending the flames, poking the coals with a stick. Rowan recognized her as Hestia immediately, that or a Vestal Virgin. Realizing he needed to make an offering to Hecate, as he had been doing for years, he turned to Chiron. "I will see you shortly, but I have an offering to make. See you later, Percy."

He hurried over to the hearth, where he quickly saw and smiled at the little girl. "Hello, Lady Hestia."

The girl smiled, showing a perfect face and inhumanly eyes. They were like little campfires, warm and sweet and easing his weariness just by looking at them. "Welcome to Camp, Child. Keep that wit about you, it will keep you safe always. It takes a rare being that can sense or see me, most are not aware of the importance of home."

"I haven't had a home in a long time, if there is one thing I get, it's home."

She smiled at him. "I heard you say you were here to make an offering?"

"Yes, happily." From his backpack, he pulled some some trail mix. "I know it's not much, but it was all I could safely bring. Thank you Hecate, for allowing me entrance into this place, and Hestia for greeting me so warmly into this Camp." He tossed in the whole thing, and the fires burned brighter.

Hestia smiled. "Thank you for that... now, I think as a reward, I will tell you the purpose of this camp. So you can find your own place here and find your own peace. How does that sound?"

"Lovely, my Lady." Then, from the fire, popped a scroll. One that said his name on it..." What is this?"

"That would be the terms and conditions of being a priest of Hecate."

He nodded slowly. "Okay... that's good... so let's start with your part first." And so she wove the tale of the purpose of this place, starting with it's name... Camp Halfblood.

Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews.

This was a joy to write.

Love, your Ninja Overlord,

Mika.