Chapter one page one, Light and Shaow: Discovery of Dreams

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The stillness of the winter's cold is broken by a prodigious crackle, which seems to rip the very fabric of the air itself. It is followed by sound like that of a great river pouring over a steep ledge, a constant rolling thunder. The wind begins to scream, but it is as if the being whom is responsible for such a prolific breath has their mouth open slightly too wide, and soon it expires. There are no clouds to be seen in evening's amber sky, and surely the earth has nor sprung forth a flowing river or waterfall, there are but only streams near by. If I am to stay in the bitter reaches of this cold much longer, the misgiving of my ears might give into the fantasy of my eyes.

A silhouette stretches out quite some distance in the setting sun's light, from a tall figure abundantly wrapped in various animal skins. With a tight brow overlooking his shoulder, he turns his back to the sun to head home. He greets his shadow, and watches the distance between his foot and snow disappear, just before each soft crunch. Imagining that he races his shadow home, and begins to conceive how he will win … with it being more than twice his height in length, but a race never the less they shall have.

With thought of an early defeat, his eyes close and he listens to the rhythm of air bursting from his nostrils. Every third fall of his foot into the crunching snow, and his thoughts begin to drift to the sounds of the battle drums that once echoed through these woods. The enormous ice laden trees are becoming thin in their placement, and not so great in their height, soon he will stand on the crest of a hill which leads to the fields of his home. The smoke, barely visible on the dwindling horizon, is a welcomed sight. His escaping breath has caused a slight build-up of ice on the thin cloth covering everything under his eyes.


Mother should have the potatoes and carrots ready, and father will surely be ready to gripe that I can only find the smallest of creatures for him to clean for our meal. Perhaps, he will make jest how I grew taller than he and as strong I did on such small game. He knows that I will not have shot anything large if I do not make it home before the twilight, and have used the late afternoon to round as much small game I could. After all, he himself will not take down large game far from home because of the work of getting it back. Not that I fear work, but I'd much rather be able to see a curious wolf, bear, or greater beast while under the burden of a heavier load, it is far better a reason than his ... for not producing a finer meat than rabbit. Gripe he may, but smile he will.
At the sight of the frozen fields he concedes the race with his shadow.

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2

The outline of a small four room hut is about to vanish into the birth of night, if not but only the lit window and the hot glow atop the roof from the fire within. His right hand makes its way behind is back to find the loop at which the string of rabbits are tightly bound. As they fall stiff and loose, he grabs them with his left, and the right hand goes to the front of his waste, and belt, to loose the other end. He then pulls down the thin cloth, as doing so thin flakes of ice crack off, and he lets out a sigh, it produces a large white column of breath in front of him that he pretends to be dragon's fire as his hand comes to meet the door. It sags but not from quality of the wood nor fastener used to hang it in it's place, but of the craftsmanship which has hung it so.

He beams inside.“Father wont you ever let me adjust the door so it does not look as such a fine steed with a bad leg? Now boy, you better watch your words … I've told ya, that door was made by my hand and my hand alone will decide when it needs adjustment … besides, it is a fine door -a clean crisp voice sharply proclaims; “On a bad leg.” Oh come now boy hand me those rabbits so as I might put them on your mother's big mouth and not my pride.” She smiles gently at Chance then cuts her eyes to the burly older man with arms outstretched for the string of rabbits, “If that door were made of your pride, why it'd be gleaming in gold and gems ya silly old fool.” Ha!! I'm ever the fool for loving a beautiful woman like you my dear, if the boy could hunt like he dreams his craft, then I would be the town's butcher, and this would be a finer meat.”

A brief and warm laughter fills the small home made of earthen walls and thatched roof. Chance gives each foot a solid and swift thud against the floor, along with what looks to be a punch from each hand as he shakes loose the snow which he has collected from running through the tight pine line, which slice through the fields to slow down the winds. In the process of doing so, his gaze falls onto his mother.
She is a woman short in stature but with long flowing hair which seems to beckon for someone to give it care. Her full round cheeks seem to glow as brilliant as the fire. “Its good for you both Mrs. Wolf had the fancy to try her hand at cooking tonight. This is how I'm able to cook for you boys a bit earlier than usual. I only had to help her prepare the lamb.” Chance's gaze falls now to his father, for he can see something like wit swirling around his head, as a slow rumble of words begin to emerge from lips, barely visible in the thick beard which surrounds them. “Oh, do you think Mr. Wolf will have words with ya in the morn … because ya let him go hungry this night?”

A grin peels back the soft and shapely lips of Chance, as he moves to the small wooden table in front of the fireplace. “Paul, ya know the lady of the house can do as much of anything she sets her mind to, like teaching your boy to read. Maybe ya aught to keep it in mind when you make your bad jokes on her expense.”

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3

Chance's eye watch his father's hand, blade, and eyes work fiercely to procure the meat from the skin and bone. The manner in which it appears to be done to him, is not the amount of work needed to do so but, a fluster of sloppy overpowered jabs and slices of the knife blade.
“Father, does the day soon come where you'll let me prepare the meat for dinner? If nothing else, I might be able to save the skins from the paws of a mad bear.”

The fury of activity on the cutting board stops and the knife in hand turns towards chance. “Boy, just because you might be coming to the point of manhood doesn't mean you're a man yet. Your task is to watch and learn how it's done before you can go claiming that you might best me. Where do you think the skins that keep you warm when you hunt have come from, the sky?” The young man looks over to the tattered skins which hang just beyond the door, “If that be a heavenly coat of skins, I'd begin to wonder where my standing with the Gods might be.” A short grumble is followed by Paul's raspy and deep voice, “If it be so poorly made, why have you not made a better one yet?” A smirk comes over Nina's face, not for what has been, but for what she knows will be soon said, “Because father, you have yet to take me to hunt bear.” The knife raises into the air, and with a flicker of hand comes to rest in the cutting board.

“You have been listening to the stories of William's son again haven't ya?” He is a tracker and huntsman, whom works for Lord Wolf because, that's what he knows. I do what I know -which isn't much, Nina proclaims- … woman, I do what I know because that is what I was hired to do, tend to the animals and crops. Sometimes, Lord Wolf is kind enough to share the meat of hunt with us, when there is enough, and for this I am grateful as should you be.” Father, it is not that I am not grateful of we have, or you have shown me, but how am I to learn what it is that I should do when I marry if I never test my ability to do other than what you have shown me? “Now you see here woman, this is where I do not make nearly as many a joke as I should about the Lady Wolf because, she got it in her mind to teach all the children of the Lord's workmen to read and write. His head is becoming more filled with
clouds than good sense.”

As she turns to grab the rabbit meat, her brow turns down sharply and her lips stiffen, “All ya have to do to satisfy the boy's thirst to know more than we can teach him is ask the good Lord Wolf if he might be able to go on a hunt with William or he the next time they go to hunt. Would that be so hard for you to do?” When she turns about with the rabbit in hand her brow softens and she winks ever so sly the young man, whom looks like one of the great northern bears he dreams of hunting … about to eat it's first meal after a long slumber.

With anticipation dripping off every pore of his warm colored face, Chance turns all his attention to his father's mouth. He will say it, he must, he has to … “Bah, so be it then but, if when he goes he does not return with a pelt of a bear slain by his hand to make a better coat from, I will hear not another word of it and sleep with the horses he will. In the morning when I prepare his horse, I will ask it of him.

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4
(Much of the "work" contains notations)

His chest swells and he takes in a deep breath before addressing Chance, who is now bathed in sheer delight of what has just been said, “Now, you will not pester me for the answer one bit till dinner the coming day, and if I hear a peep of a sound about bears when you come to help load the bails onto the feed wagon, I'll have your hide before you have a bear's”

The close family is all sat down now at the small table, warmed by the fire and the exchange of the day's stories to be shared, and they joy they find in it. Outside, the sun has fallen beneath the sky, stars shine bright, and the wind gently brushes unsettled snow from the top of the house. It billows up into the cold night air, much like that of the smoke from the chimney, but not quite so far nor visible. Just behind the home is a large wooden stable where all the horses, along with a few prized cows are allowed to take comfort from the chill of winter's grasp.
It is quite a grand structure for the purpose which it serves. The long sides are made of stones that are predominately round and of the size of a mans torso. At each end large wooden doors, that stand more than double the height of the small home on its backside, are adorned in carvings of mighty black steeds which are common to the lands of the south. A top the roof there is a protruding structure nearly as large the home beside it which is home to the falcons the lord makes sport with. The roof on it is pitched sharply on all sides and come to a point in the sky above. It is told that a master elven craftsman oversaw the building of the great estate on which the stables lies long ago for Lord Wolf's great grandfather, after his role in the War of Bardsong; (a great and fabled war between elves of Bardsong woods, and elves of the underworld known as - EW Vile)

Lord Wolf has two of the southern stallions known as (-------), one which he named (EW True Sword), and the other (EW True Flame). Sword was broken in long ago, he is somewhat tolerant of all whom come near. Flame on the other hand, is a young and wild horse whom has nearly caused injury to several of the hands which have tried to begin the process of breaking her. Lord Wolf has grown tired of this and it is said she will soon be sold. A laid stone path four times the length of an average man wide sweeps east from the stable and curls back on itself along the stables north side, which faces the sprawling and vast gardens just behind the estate.

Six other homes are on the estate grounds. The men and women in them call home, and for some, the duties of such an arrangement have been passed on since before the estate was built. There are only two which can claim this service, and not surprisingly, they have somewhat larger homes that boast two floors made of wood in the southern pasture.

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5

The Hardgrove family to which Chance belongs has only bee on the estate since he was the age of two. In the past two years of the family's some ten and four years of service, there has been talk amongst the other families of improving the stable-keep and cook's home. Yet, the burly Mr. Hardgrove disputes all claims for improvement, reinforcing that all that which they have is more than what is due he and his family. “When I am ready for something more in my gray bearded days to come, it will be the result of the work I have done, and the earnings I have saved to do so.” He ensures all whom think him to be as most other stable-keeps whom leave after some one to four years service, as the demands of Lord Wolf's places on his stable are great, he often offers his time as proof of such.

In the distance, just over a crest of a small hill with a breadth like that of a wave on the ocean, lies the finest home in Proudrock. Lit windows begin to disappear into the night, as the time for slumber approaches. There are some sixty and three, windows strewn along three floors … the task requires some time. The windows on the third floor will remain lit all through the night, for this is what Lady Wolf desires of what is known as her floor, as they all line the hallway which lines the master bedroom, a “small” study, and two guest bedrooms reserved for only the closest of friends, and the oldest of family. Only to the strongest of eye, could one see the floating silhouette passing by the windows, at perfect pace, from west to east, as the lady makes her way to the master bedroom.

My dear, why did you pull out such a great many books, and leave the library in such a shambles that one might think the north-wind itself was given birth within it? She looks over at her husband and she slips into the bed laden with heavy blankets, smiling, “Oh that, well so that fine young Hardgrove boy might have a suitable reason for his stubborn father to yield him time in it.” Beth … You should not be meddling in family affairs not your own. How many times have I told you such? “Put out the candles my love.”

Beth … “Oh David, are we not all family on this estate?” Do not attempt to twist my tongue woman. “Put the candles out. He is a fine young man, and he has a desire as few men twice his age do” And what would that desire be? “ To understand David … not the words which are printed in the pages of the many books we have, but the reason why they are in the books. He seeks meaning. If ever there has been a child in our service who is due more than I can teach, surely you might be able to name them if not him?”

David turns away for his wife's eyes, his close and strong fingers begin to scratch at his thinly trimmed and well kept beard, "and would you purpose that he should be attending The Proudrock School?" Where the halls would be filled with glares from the harsh eyes of children from our lands more privileged, who's parents are not so filled with the ideals we try to instill in all? “Of course not David, that would be meddling where I do not belong.”

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6)

Upon hearing this David perches himself up on his elbow so he might lean his face in to his wife's, and produce for her the stern eyes of which he is widely known, “My dearest lady, are you having fun at my leisure, of a matter which does merit a respect … forth which I have not yet seen?” She lays her hand at the base of his neck and her fingers swim into his hair, “My love, I would ask you in all seriousness, for this boy, to speak with Kydin. Where he give me weekly instruction on how to better teach those that I do, at which I will be allowed to speak with him on the accord of Chance for my own.” A soft smile lightens his eyes, “ I will consider the matter.” If your considerations take too long, you might awake to find an empty bed come sunrise,” she whispers into his ear. “You would leave me for such a fine young man?” No my love, I would leave you for the opportunity which is known as Chance. With the flutter of blankets the pair are lost in love's embrace.

A new day is dawning over Wolf Estate. The bright morning sun rays are thrown all about from plentiful icicles and fresh fallen snow. Nearly all the stone, as of that which the stable is made, glistens with ice that has formed during the slight melt of midday snow from the roof, only to freeze as rolls down. Most of it does not make it past the the landing of the second floor, much to the dismay of the grounds keeper whom is tasked with their removal near walkways and passages, that by unfortunate
circumstance could be impaled by those which grow up to eight feet in length at times.

Soon a flurry of children will emerge from their snow covered homes in a fury of snowballs, shouting, and names. They will make way to the back of the estate, bundled up in skin coats looking like bear cubs, and huddle near the door awaiting Lady Wolf to bid them good morning and entry. Some of the children arrive from by way of a horse drawn wagon that holds fifteen on a good day. Being that the snow which fell two days ago was light, today they await with their friends of the estate by the door.

This time of the morning, most of those in service of the Wolf's are entering their second hour of work. Chance's mother and father are often first to rise. He readies the horses for the school wagon, and Saber for the Lord, and once finished begins to inspect and groom the others, if no more need to be prepared for work, while he feeds them. Paul always feeds them when he must get the ready, or tend to them. He says that it helps them to fancy him as much they do the fine oat and hay he helps to grow and harvest. For the most part, this proves to be true, with one undeniable exception, Flame.

Most mornings, Flame greets him with a rears and several hooves to her stable door, and a high winding shrill and grunt or two. Those with homes near the stable have no come to rely on this routine as a means to know when the time for the new day has drawn near. Sometimes he wanders in, still in the stupor of a good nights rest, and finds himself at Flame's amusement or torture, of the two he has not yet decided. Those lucky enough to be passing by might hear him speaking to her, “You ungrateful nag of a beast. I only try to feed ya, and keep ya in good standing with Lord Wolf. Keep slappin yer hooves on the door like that and you'll be sorry when I can't fix em for ya. Are the elven gods of the wood with ya? As it be a miracle ya haven't split one yet, fer having no shoes … ya devilish nag. Flame … flames of hell, that be your rather fitting name. Soon you'll be off to the market and I'll have my peace again after a years time of trying to tame ya ...”

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7)

If one walks slowly enough by, they are bound to hear more ramblings on. Most of the other men ,whom he works with, ask him not of how hos morning was, but of how Flame's morning was. If to just ruffle his feathers, with care, a bit. Damned nag is often the reply, followed by a fellowship of laughter.

On a normal day, Chance goes to the kitchen in the morning with his mother, where she prepares an easy meal of eggs, mealed oat, and bread for him, her, and his father. While she cooks Chance rounds up the rubbish and scraps from the previous day. The bones suitable for dogs will go to the dogs, and any sort of food not made of meat will be taken to the barn where Larson, the man responsible for livestock will decide which of his pride animals will get a lavish meal.

Often he complains to Chance that he should not dump all the rubbish into the same bin, as he does especially in winter time. “Someday Larson, I will devise a means to meet your needs, but as to get her on foot carrying more than one or two bins would require more than one trip. It's far from the journey to get to town, but a journey never the less it is.” The frequent retort, “You young ones, always afraid of a small amount of extra work – I'm not afraid of work Larson. I'm afraid of my father's schedule- … humph, schedule, those be things for civil folk. Get on with it then boy, don't let me hold you behind.” The exchange is always friendly, less Chance has pitched the bin and it falls over. That usually makes for a more sporty encounter later in the day, when he brings the feed.

Ah, on a normal day … Chance would be up already. When his father notice the time for his meal has long past, he first make headway for the home, for knows what is the cause of this from time to time, “That damned boy laid in bed all night swimming in thoughts of bears .. HA! I'll give him something to swim in. If it were any season but winter, he would already had the largest pale in sight … in hand and draw water from the well, but since it is winter, he will have to settle for a smaller bucket which is kept inside. With a fast jerk, the water rushes past the edge of the bucket and lands all over a bewilder face, “Get moving boy, it's mid day by now, go find yer head and be sure to place it where yer arse is. Is a dream worth our livelihood, get to your work and make haste now.”

In a blur Chance is dressed and starts his day … late. Thinking to himself while running to the kitchen door, he wonders, (why does father make it seem as if his being late on occasion would be just cause for his mother and father to fall from the good grace of the Lord and Lady of the estate.) He knows this idea is so very far from the truth it causes him to laugh, but the meaning in behind the words his father chose is clear, so never would he dare to object or question other than in thought. When he enters the kitchen, he is greeted by Larson's wife Mayra. She informs him that his father has already taken the scraps to Mr. McCrow, and that his morning meal awaits him with his mother around the corner near the stove.

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8

“Ah, it is morning is it not my boy?” Yes mother, and though it be winter, a fresh rain has this day fallen and renewed my spirits. “Your father loves to play God of something any time he can.” That he does, but I must hurry and get to helping him tend the stables. “Not today son. The Lady of the house has come to me this morning and asked for your hand in the library for the better part of the day. A good mess of books for you to arrange as I understand. She has not had the time to arrange all the books the children have pulled from their place.” Chance has heard this before and it does not come to him as a surprise but, there is a thought which has been looming about in the back of his mind … “Boy, best ya get moving being late for your father is one thing, but for the Lady is another … aye?” Aye, mother.

“Good-morn' my lord.” Good morning my good sir. How doth my steeds fair this day? “All are well my lord, save one. “Ah, the wild Flame of Wolf Estate. Do not fret, the spring is not so far off, and we shall seek to find another to mate with Saber.” That sounds very well my lord, very well indeed. I do have a … favor to ask of you my lord, and if you should say no I would understand. “Paul, might you ask me this favor so I might answer it?” Ah yes my lord, yes. My boy, his head is swimming with visions of hunting bear, and as I only know of small game, I would ask that you and William might find room for him on your next bear hunt?

Lord wolf lets forth a small burst of laughter, “Is that all? I was prepared for … what I do not know, but something greater or perhaps more grave! Of course he can come along. The bear hunt will be held twelve days time after the spring melt. That should allow the white bears time to retreat back to the mountains, as it is not very wise to hunt when they are around.”

A most wise decision my lord, a fierce beast terrible strength they be. “Aye, my great grandfather as you know lead a hunting, under the watch of King Bardsong, and if it was not for his being there … the white bears which they encountered might have revenged the entire party, but he played a song that lulled their heart long enough for the rest of the party to retreat.” Ah yes, I know of this tale, my boy has read of it in one of the many books from the library. He's told me that they were once peaceful beasts, tied to the magic of the ancient world, but when … ah, the dispute amongst the elves began … a hunting party made of men and Vile went into the mountains and slay every white bear they could find and laid them at the gates of Bardsong.

Not soon after the war began. “Yes, it was the vile culling that changed the hearts of the magical beasts. They became savage killers. They have but one place where their body can be pierced by a weapon of non-magical craftsmanship. It is said there is an area the size of a fingertip from where the Gods have touched their heart. Though a magical weapon might best them, it must be superior, for their resistance of magic is quite strong. Many fools have braved the mountains for their pelts, few escape. The only pelts ever believed to be taken from them are those by the Vile whom had slain so many. Few master elves are able to converse with them, for their hearts have grown so heavy. I best be making my way to town, much to accomplish today for the Mrs. “Very well my lord. Might there be anything other normal I should handled today?” I nearly forgot, I believe the Lady of the house so wishes to speak with Nina and yourself today in regards to that fine young son of yours. I am not sure what on what account, but it is nothing to be worrisome of, or to take a hand to his backside. Good day Mr. Hardgrove. “Good day my lord.”

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9-10

Lord Wolf rides the path away from the stables at a quickened pace and Mr. Hardgrove stands stricken. He does not realize how long he has been standing there till he notices that Lord Wolf has long since gone over the horizon along with the path and medium pines which line it. The nip of a cold winter's wind has knocked him from the fog of his wonder. What could that boy have done? He's had to been doing something. Always dreaming with his head in the stars. I wonder if … nay, I'll just have to be seeing what it is the Lady has in fancy, then I'll be able to sort this out. He turns to the stable and goes in to finish up a few of the mornings tasks. Before he closes the stables door, his eyes scan the windows on the back side of the estate with concern in behind them. All over his face are signs that there is something more … underneath perhaps that he his trying to hold back but is beginning to fail. He sighs heavily and closes the door.

Each time he enters the library, he imagines himself to be entering the fabled halls of Everwood's scribe house, known throughout the realm as The Halls of Lost Words, or Thammas-Vanwa-Quettar in high elvish. It is the only building in Everwood made of stone. It is said to have been built some time at the end of the (time period), and is adorned in silver stars on its massive white marble columns that seem to reach for the moon. There are a great many scrolls and books here, where the elvish come to study and write of all things.

It is also rumored that powerful magical artifacts are stored there. The truth to this shall never been known to men, as none have ever been allowed to take sanctum there, nor will any of elvish kind even so much as riddle the possibility. From the dawn of man, the elves have been weary for man's blind thirst, without consideration of its cost or consequence. They rarely take men as students for their superior knowledge and skill in the crafts of weaponry or magic. Nearly all men covet such knowledge and lack the wisdom to use it, thus, the elves endeavor to teach men of their wisdom. Chance imagines himself to be allowed entrance somehow, and often imagines conversations of great elven legends unknown to him … but not his imagination.

As he approaches the first of four tables, his attention comes to the books which are strewn on them. Though they cover an array of subjects such as; legend & lore, magical use & and crafting, history, science & medicine, they are far more advanced and off subject of what Lady Wolf tries to accomplish with her classes for the children. He always comes to this table first and puts it up last. It has never been spoken of by he or the Mrs. Wolf, but if only in a round about manner. Sometimes she will ask if he has found any interesting books that he might be interested in taking home, or at times he will offer it up. Some years ago, he would only request one of the books from that table, now he only regards that table as a suggestion, or perhaps guess by Mrs. Wolf where his interests might currently lie. Often they will make small talk about such books and at time hold conversation on them, but never has he asked exactly why she does it. He is satisfied with his assumption that she wants to help him learn more, and does not wish to learn her exact reason, less she offers unto him with no inquiry.

His hunger as of late is that of all things elvish. He is finding his hunger insatiable, for all the books he has come across thus far about elves, in any context, are all written by humans. “How can humans know more about the elves then they do … they cannot … these books will have to do for now, till I find the courage to ask father for money, that I might then ask the lady where I might find one available for purchase.” He hasn't given up the hope of finding one amongst the many yet, but with only one shelf after the current, he feels a sense of urgency added to his search. “I must find one soon, I might turn loopy, as does the weak mind pitted against a siren's song, or perhaps a bard's lulling tune, or ...” His mind scans through the names of creatures, beings, and items he has come across in his reading which have the ability, by some means, to put a person into a daze, fog, or fearful state of mind. When he was younger creatures, items, and beings of all sorts would take shape in the library, and fierce battles would ensue. On particularly intense days, he would often be ridding the library of Vile assassins, perhaps even armies.
He has developed a method for searching for books not on the table, to conceal the fact he is doing so, for the reason that he might always appear busy should someone enter. Quickly he will glance over the books from other tables for books that should be in the same section of which he might find a book of interest, place them on the north east corner of the second table, and then puts them up slowly so he can skim shelves near the area where the single book in hand belongs. He is fairly certain that this is common knowledge to most anyone in the house, yet he still does it in this fashion , if not but to honor the silly thoughts of his youth. The doors to the library open and Lady Wolf enters.

Good afternoon Chance. Good afternoon milady. “I have news from town that I need to share with you, do you have time?” She knows this is but a joke of a question as the look of her eyes and smile on her face would suggest. “Certainly milady.” Very well then, come sit with me. “Yes milady.” The two walk to one of several soft seated sitting areas. This one is on the far wall from the door, where is a grand fireplace and mantle. “Lord Wolf has sent news to me of an inquiry I made of him this past night, and so it seems the first part of it should be taking place today. Would you care to guess of what it might be?

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“I have no suspicions to entertain, but do tell milady.” As I do not teach any of the children beyond the age of thirteen, and have long been aware of your hunger of knowledge and meaning of all things –at this moment Chance finds himself smitten by this recognition of Lady Wolf and a smile beams forth like the dawning sun over ocean, most brilliant- and in the beginning, I thought perhaps I would be able to accommodate this hunger for you. At the age of elven, you were reading books that I feared to open at the age of eighteen. I thought, possibly, I could just keep … feeding you books of the sort, but when you reached the age of thirteen, you began to question and reason of things that I could not offer such an easy answers … which is why I stopped giving you lessons.

It was as if you were becoming my teacher. “Milady, I am sorry to have caused you such ..” Chance, you need not apologize to for anything. You have been the most profound joy of my teaching of the children of these lands. I only wish that I were able to continue with you in you education of things within the world and hearts of those in it. Being that I am not ready for such a task, I have arranged for a meeting with the Headmaster of the Proudrock school, to better equip myself, and to perhaps teach you.” Ma...Master Kydin milady?

Chance eye's that were already a glow with possibility are now swimming in the hue of elven magic and tales of valor. A short time passes as he comes to realize that Lady Wolf has been saying his name repeatedly. “Chance?” Sorry milady -Young man, from hence forth, when not in the presence of others I do insist that you call me by my given name, Mrs. Wolf, and do not call me by my tittle- Yes Mrs. Wolf ... I'm sorry, I cannot help but daze off into wonder and land of dreams as to what I might learn from Kydin.

“Well I do not wish for you to have your hope so placed in something of which is not yet certain. I have asked him here today that we might prepare an outline for his aiding me with my further teaching endeavors. I have yet to ask of him of his teaching you. I wish for you to know the reason that he should soon arrive, and why I should be introducing the two of you.” Yes Mrs. Wolf I understand.

A powerful sense of urgency washes over him, and seems to echo somewhere in the depths of his bowels. He must … this would be so much of all that I have dreamed for so long … to hear the tales of elves from one of the realm's most respected himself. It would be my life's honor for this, it simply must be. I must learn more that I may find what it is I may do. This simply must be. “I so wish for you to remain here in the library tending to the mess I have made for you." When Master Kydin arrives I shall return with him, try to overcome the delightful fear that your eyes now cannot hide, that you might be able to speak when spoken to … yes?”

Laughing and nodding his head, he stands and bows, “Yes, milady Wolf, I use your tittle now because I must, forgive me.” All too easy for a man of such a fine stature, young Mr. Hardgrove. Mrs. Wolf tips her head at chance as she turns to leave. When one of the large oak doors is pushed closed, the soft yet deep boom lets lose a faint echo throughout the library, and with this the young mind of Chance awakens lively … full of the day's dream.
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Should the story continue?