"Hang on," Elijah murmured. "You'll be okay."
Benjen clung to his boat with all his strength, fearing that he'd be thrown from the deck and into the cold sea, dragged down to the depths never to be seen again. Perhaps, if he were really in danger, Elijah could take over and Apparate him back to land, but Apparating such distances might put him in more danger, not less. It might have merely been paranoia, but acts of magic was detectable to beings made of magic.
"..."
Apparition on a large scale was sure to cause ripples in a still pond, and if they returned to, say, Borug's village, that would put them rather close to whatever dwelled in Yeen and undoubtedly a number of other unsavory things disguising themselves as benevolent spirits or gods.
Elijah tried to distract Benjen with more tales about Hogwarts, but Benjen was only half-listening, his mind focused on clinging to the side of the little dinghy, hoping that it wouldn't capsize. As Elijah spoke of the Mirror of Erised, Benjen briefly wondered what he, as he was now, would see; his family, perhaps.
With Mother still alive, and even Lyanna at his side; with maybe Elijah standing in the background like a proud parent. Elijah had said, though, that the Mirror often ensnared people by encouraging them to return to a sight that might not ever come true. Would this be the case for Benjen? Would he see his family again?
As the boat crested a particularly tall wave, Benjen wanted to hurl, but he was too afraid to lean over the side in case he was dragged down. At some point, Benjen felt his eyelids close, too heavy to keep up; while he could not sleep, he felt his mind turn to stone, heavy and stiff and unyielding, and so he remained, his body frozen, his grip unbreakable.
When he came to, though, he was on a beach. He pushed himself onto his elbows, brushing the sand from his face. He took a ragged breath, and sat up. About ten feet away was the shore. The waves were calmer now, though by no means gentle; the sand underneath his fingers was still damp. The little dinghy was sitting beached, its mast snapped in half and dangling over the edge, connected only by a few splinters to the craft itself. The storm clouds were still visible in the horizon, but it seemed the storm was heading elsewhere.
Benjen looked around. A tropical paradise, on first glance, much the same as Sothoryos, so long as he ignored the overcast sky. He pushed himself to his feet, surprised as how numb he felt. Like whatever fire had burned within him had gone cold after so long, reduced to a few glowing embers in a puddle of ash. He stumbled to the tree line, and as his muscles worked, blood flowing into them, he began to shiver.
He entered the jungle. Unlike the squatter trees of the Sothoryos coastline, these trees were straight and tall; as soon as he stepped under the canopy, he could feel the temperature plummet. The soil was damp underneath, with soft, broad-leafed ferns decorating his path. It was far less hostile than the previous continent, what with its giant flies and spiked bushes.
As he continued, he began to hear the chittering of exotic birds; tall trees gave way to delicate-looking flowers of violet and orange and other vivid colors. Butterflies, about as big as his splayed hand and adorned with a mottled salt-and-pepper pattern, floated everywhere, silently landing on multicolored flowers to feed on the nectar.
"Whoa," murmured Benjen, as one such butterfly landed in his hair. It was a bit ticklish, but the novelty of having a butterfly on one's head made him refrain from brushing it away. "Lyanna would be so jealous."
Walking through the clearing, Benjen pushed past some trees to find a river. A lazy stream, it flowed from south to northeast, by his reckoning. He chewed his lip. Was there anyone on this island, or had he stumbled on an uninhabited one? He was a bit hungry, now he thought about it. If there were people somewhere, then the river was undoubtedly a good place to start looking.
Upstream or downstream? If he went upstream first, then he could just float back down. Course decided, he turned southward and began to walk. The butterfly in his hair appeared perfectly content traveling far from home. Or it was asleep.
The sun was dipping beyond the horizon when Benjen encountered someone — two someones. They stopped, watching Benjen like a deer faced with a hunter's bow. Benjen, too, stopped. There were two of them, with dark skin, though not as dark as that of the Summer Islanders; fairly short and lithe, perhaps still children, even Benjen was taller than either of them. The elder, a boy about his age, carried a wooden bucket in one hand. He made a gesture with his other; his younger sister fled into the trees.
"Hello," said Benjen, feeling like a bit of a simpleton.
The boy answered something; Benjen could feel his wary gaze on the sword strapped to Benjen's hip. But he didn't move.
"Elijah?"
"He's telling us to go home," said Elijah's voice. "Away."
Benjen frowned, and he made to speak, but the boy quickly bolted out of sight, disappearing into the trees. As he was now, weak and hungry, Benjen probably wouldn't catch him, especially over uneven terrain. He could try to follow in their general direction, but it wouldn't do to venture too far and lose sight of the river, which was the most important thing.
River meant drinkable water, and maybe animals coming to drink as well, which meant food. It would be a shame to leave the hypothetical village behind, but… he'd taken too many risks already, and almost died in that storm. If he wanted to see his family again, he'd have to play it safe.
"Shame I'm no good at potions," Elijah said, as Benjen's hand brushed against a fire-red orchid, startling a beautiful, golden butterfly. "That thing screams 'potions ingredient' to me. I know firsthand how useful they can be, and I still recall how to make some potions, but I wouldn't know where or how to find the ingredients, if they even exist in this world at all."
The butterfly, its wings sparkling like the sun were trapped in them, floated upstream. Benjen idly followed, having nothing else to do anyway; savoring the rumble of water down the hill and the occasional sprays of mist that revitalized him. The creature's vividity was such that he couldn't miss it even when it disappeared some trees or ferns.
"That thing is also definitely an ingredient," said Elijah, as Benjen stepped over a tree root, following the butterfly. "Seeing all this stuff makes me wish I'd focused more on potions… then again, it wasn't my fault Snape was a shit teacher."
"Who's Snape?" Benjen asked.
"Ah, our Potions Master at Hogwarts. He hated people and existence in general and was a turd, and he still wondered why the woman of his affections didn't reciprocate. Some people, honestly."
Benjen stumbled into the clearing and watched the golden butterfly float high into the sky, to be carried off by winds unseen. Instead he turned his eyes down, taking in the scene. There was a large wooden house on the clearing — on top of the hill that the river was flowing from, now that Benjen realized it. There was an outhouse behind the house itself, and a small (relatively) outdoor oven. The entire house and all of its attachments were built large, as if a giant lived here.
The door opened. The man was eight feet tall, with tanned skin similar to the youths from earlier and wore only an apron, coarse hair covering whatever was visible of his chest. He had crow's feet around his sun-baked face, with warm brown eyes surrounded by crow's feet and a scraggly beard kept in a braid. He grinned at them, revealing two rows of perfectly straight teeth.
"Come on in, boys," he said. "I've baked some banana bread!"
Benjen just stared in shock. Elijah manifested next to him, sniffing the air. "Smells good," he complimented, before making his way to the cabin. "Are you coming, Ben?"
"What — but —"
"He knows we're here, both of us," Elijah said, a bit tiredly. "Might as well get it over with."
The inside of the home was simple, but cozy, with unpolished wooden furniture and many potted plants; there were dozens of flowering species that Benjen had not seen outside, and each of them possessed unexpected smells; one smelled of the sea, another smelled of spice markets, and there was even one that smelled exactly like the Wolfswood after rain, if such a thing were possible.
The giant was cutting into a loaf of sweet-smelling bread. He cut two generous slices onto three wooden plates, and placed it upon a small, circular dining table. Well, small for him, anyway; when Benjen sat, the edge of the table reached his chin. Three mugs of spiced milk were passed around.
"I do receive so few guests these days," he said. "Welcome to my humble abode. They call me Harmony."
"They?" said Elijah.
"You are on the Isles of Naath," said Harmony. "The Butterfly Isles, as they're called sometimes, to the northwest of Sothoryos. I won't fault you for not knowing. My people don't interact as much with outsiders as they used to."
Benjen folded his legs under him so he could sit taller. Elijah hesitated, before reaching out to his loaf of bread; to his visible surprise, he was able to pick it up. He took a small, experimental nibble. He slowly set the cake down and took a sip of his milk instead.
"Whoa," Elijah murmured.
"How?" Benjen said. "You couldn't eat anything before."
"Didn't I tell you? Sometimes, dreams are more real than you think." Elijah glanced at Harmony. "Beings like him are powerful enough to blur the line between dreams and reality."
"Close enough," said Harmony, happily taking a bite out of his own cake. "It's not what I'm interested in discussing, in any case. Now that you have eaten my food, let me tell you this much — I never intended to hurt you, nor do I plan to in the future, unless you directly work against me and mine."
"All right," said Benjen, familiar with the concept of guest right; Elijah was visibly less comfortable, only barely touching his food despite eating something for the first time in over half a year. "What did you want to talk about?"
"I told you that our people do not interact as much with outsiders anymore." Harmony's face twisted with rage. "Slavers are the reason why. As bad as those Valyrians were, they were never so low as to hurt an island of pacifists, and we even made trade with them. But these days? Honorless bullies roam the seas, uninterested in making trade when they can simply take things by force."
"And you need our help?" Benjen guessed.
"Aren't you a god, or close enough?" Elijah said skeptically. "I don't see what you need us for."
If it were even possible, Harmony's eyes darkened further. "I cannot fight a war on multiple fronts," he muttered. "Especially when my people will not fight for themselves."
Benjen stared at him. "Can't you just… tell them to fight?"
Harmony smiled, though it was a sad thing. "You have much to learn yet, it seems. It has been a long time since magic flowed through the world… you can only hear me because you are almost bursting with magic, my young friend."
"Who else knows of us?" Elijah said, his voice hard.
"Not many, I think," said Harmony, his tone placating. "Those you have already spoken to… perhaps you have been glimpsed by the so-called gods of Sothoryos; though I do not sense their presence here. My demense may be small, but within it, I am all-seeing."
"And you saw us from outside?" Elijah said, then narrowed his eyes. "You sent that storm, didn't you."
"On the contrary, I rescued you from that storm," Harmony said, sounding annoyed. "If I didn't redirect those winds, you might be floating aimlessly in the Smoking Sea even now. Take this as a promise of good intentions on my part. I am now offering you a deal, unrelated to your rescue."
"Let's hear it," said Benjen, before Elijah could edge a word in.
"Help me create defenses — active defenses — for my people," said Harmony, gesturing at his surroundings in general. "My people will not fight, so they will need something to fight for them. Your magic is different from ours. You could surely accomplish something I cannot."
Benjen immediately recalled one of James' memories; of the suits of armor lining Hogwarts, who could come to life at the Headmaster's command. Elijah glanced at Benjen, sensing his thoughts, and gave a small smile.
"But I don't have a wand, still," Benjen said.
"A wand?"
"A focus," said Elijah. "It needs a magical wood and a magical core. We're still missing the former."
Harmony blinked, then glanced out the window. "Would something from my private garden suffice?"
Benjen looked out the window, then turned to James, who looked a bit surprised.
"Well." Elijah glanced at Benjen. "That was rather easy, wasn't it? It won't have any connections that can be traced back to you, will it?"
"I'm not so two-faced," Harmony said, sounding offended.
"Ah. Apologies."
"You are forgiven. I can see why you would have that concern, since others will undoubtedly do such a thing if they thought they could get away with it." Harmony stood. "Come, come take a look at my garden. You can pick out something you like — then we shall build you your wand, yes?"
The giant strode out of the home, the foundations shaking a bit with each step he took; Benjen and Elijah looked at each other, before following them out. The garden was a massive, beautiful thing; ancient trees spiraled to the skies, ferns and flowers growing underfoot, tiny lizards and frogs hopping into the grass as they sensed their approach.
"It's beautiful," said Benjen, and Harmony smiled.
"Why, thank you, my young friend. Shall we?"
"You're not half bad, are you?" said Elijah, to which Harmony laughed.
"That's all I strive to be, my older friend. Come, try the oranges I grew…"