Pigeon and I trailed slightly behind the two elves. I think they walked in front of us intentionally just to annoy me. See, Pigeon's a little idiot, and he was driving me crazy with his stupid questions.

"How do you fly?"

"Shut up."

"How come you have black wings and I have red ones?"

"Shut up."

"What is this place?"

"Shut up."

"Where are we going?"

"Shut up."

"Were you born here or did you just wake up here one day?"

"Shut up."

"Why are you so mean?"

"Shut up."

"Is that the only thing you say?"

I stopped and turned to look at him straight in the face. "I am going to say this to you one more time, little kiddie," I growled. "Shut. The. Eff. Up."

But he just kept on rattling away. "Where'd you get your dagger?"

I snapped out my left wing and caught him on the side of the head, sending him crashing to the ground.

"Hey! What was that for?" he asked indignantly. His right cheek was already red, to match his clothes and wings.

"If you just say another word," I whispered dramatically, "then I will use my dagger on you."

That kept him quiet. He stood up, grumbling and patting his clothes to get rid of the dirt, and followed behind me without making another sound.

After a bit of trudging through the forest, the trees got a bit thinner and I could make out something in the distance, illuminated by a small shaft of sunlight that had forced it through the thick canopy of leaves and needles overhead. It was some random elf guy. He had these really long and silky robes and he had this silver circlet on his head. His face was calm and old and elfy.

Loshar said a few sentences in gibberish, and the old elf said something back. Then Loshar added a few more words in gibberish, and the old elf smiled, closed his eyes, and spread his arms. I wasn't sure whether he wanted a hug or if he was trying to block our way. But Rillon and Loshar just walked around him and me and Pigeon followed suit. When I looked back, the elf dude had vanished.

"Who was that?" I asked.

"That was Gilderien the Wise, Prince of House Miolandra, wielder of the White Flame of Vandil, and guardian of Ellesmera. Without his permission, none may enter the city," Rillon answered, as if that long string of meaningless titles made it all clear.

I shrugged and decided not to ask any more questions.

A quarter of a mile later, the trees thinned some more. We passed underneath these two random big fat trees that leaned against each other at the edge of an empty glade. No, I take that back. A bunch of these little bright flowers were living there, and bumblebees were buzzing around in thick swarms. A little stream gurgled along to the right.

I didn't know if the glade was Ellesmera or if this was some sort of entrance courtyard thing, but I guessed it didn't matter too much anyways. Pigeon and I just followed Loshar and Rillon through the enormous clearing.

Eventually, I noticed that there were a bunch of random elves watching us from the shadows. They just stood where they were and stared. It was actually pretty creepy.

We followed this green cobblestone path for a while. At the end of the road were these stairs made from tree roots grown together in weird shapes. We climbed them, and at the top, there was a big of door made of random little trees that were also grown into weird shapes.

"Be polite," Loshar muttered to me and Pigeon. I think he was aiming it more at me.

The door opened by itself, revealing this big tree hall with a ceiling made from tree branches melded together. There were twelve chairs growing out of two of the walls, and twenty-four elves sat there and stared at us, just like the guys outside. Sitting at the end of the hall, on a really big chair, was a twenty-fifth elf that looked familiar for some reason. She also looked depressed. A white bird sat on her shoulder.

The elf lady looked up when we entered. Rillon stepped forward, tapped his mouth with two fingers, then exchanged a few random words with her. Then she asked him stuff, and he answered the questions with overly long strings of gibberish. Loshar occasionally said some stuff as well.

I started fidgeting after just a few minutes, and the elf lady finally turned to me and Pigeon. And that was when I realised why she looked so familiar.

"Hey, are you related to Arya?" I asked, by way of a proper greeting. A few of the elves stirred, and Loshar shot me a warning glance.

"You know Arya?" the elf said anxiously. She seemed to have forgotten how rude I had just been, which was lucky for me, since she could probably blast me all the way to the desert on a bad day.

"Yup. Met her at Gil'ead."

"Where is she now?" she asked. Her depressed eyes brightened a bit.

"What? Oh, umm, I would say with the Varden. Why?"

"She's alive?" the elf questioned.

"Err, yeah? I mean, why would I fly a corpse from Gil'ead to Teirm to those mountains way over there?"

At this, the elf lady seemed to relax and leaned back in her throne. She gave a huge sigh, and the elves on the sides all stared at me even more.

"Who's Arya?" Pigeon asked, swinging his head between me and the elf at the end of the hall. We all ignored him.

"Thank you for bringing me this news," the elf said. A few of the elves on the side gasped. Most just stared at either me or her. Even the bird on her shoulder looked at her strangely, cocking its head in disbelief. I almost asked her if she should be asking for our names and saying some impressive lines about throwing us into the dungeon, but I stopped myself.

"I didn't technically bring it," I muttered instead, but nobody heard.

"Leave," one of the elves hissed, and Rillon stared at him for a moment, then turned and followed Loshar out. Pigeon and I ran after them.