{West Sídphen river}

   I pull the blanket up over my shoulder, the fire emitting a comfortable warmth that's just right.

   .......

  Wait.

  Blanket?

  Fire?

  Last I checked, we didn't have any blankets....

  It all suddenly rushes back at once.

  Huge wolves chasing us through the woods, the cliff, the-the..incident.

  Falling into freezing cold water.

  Darkness.

   I bolt up from my laying position, black spots invading my eyesight from the sudden movement, a dizziness accompanied with a headache washing through my head.

   The mysterious blanket that'd been covering me, falls softly to my lap.

    I take in my surroundings, heart pumping dangerously fast.

   It looks like a setup for a camp.

    I'm laying on a thin pile of blankets-making it like a sleeping-bag, a fire seven feet to my right, the ground bare of any snow. And hanging suspended over it from a frame of sticks, is a stew pot.

    My stomach grumbles as I catch a whiff of something delicious drifting in the air.

    I scratch my head, puzzlement clearly on my face.

    My eyes land on another makeshift sleeping-bag.

     I feel some tension-I hadn't even noticed, drain from me as I catch the sight of bright red hair sticking out from the top.

     Roxie.

     Now how did we get from drowning in a river, to laying comfortably around a campfire?

     I stand up, immediately grabbing onto a near tree as that dizziness hits me full force. My eyesight swimming, head beginning to pound with vengeance.

     I shut my eyes, taking a few deep breaths.

     Opening them after a moment, they land on my hand that's outstretched against the log.

      I bring it up closer to my face.

      There, wrapped perfectly around my injured hand is a strip of fresh white cloth.

     Which can only mean one thing.

      Someone redid my bandage.

      I feel a spark of surprise.

      I mean, I guess I expected there to be people here.

      But since I know this isn't Earth, I suppose I can't help but be a little surprised by that discovery.

      But the question is.

      Are they friend?

      Or are they foe?

      I shake myself from those deep thoughts, re-examining the surroundings.

      We're positioned at the edge of a woods, the sound of the river roaring clearly in my ears. Mountains loom in the distance, the sun already starting to disappear behind them.

       Has it already been another day?

       I immediately straighten up as I hear a twig break.

       I take a few steps forward, reaching down to pick up another stick to use as a weapon if needed. Sweat begins to run down my forehead, hands getting clammy as I tighten my hold on the stick.

      Now where did.....

       "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

       I jump back in surprise, swinging around as I bring the stick up in a defensive position.

        My eyes land on the sudden intrusion.

        There, standing no more than ten feet away. Is a person.

        Well, I think.

        He looks ancient, a pure white beard covering half his face. Steady brown eyes stare at me with little emotion. His six foot height covered with a forest green cloak, a hood covering his head, trinkets dangling from the leather belts he has wrapped around his waist.

      And in his right hand, is a wood staff that curls at the top with a weird design.

     Okay, forget about Narnia.

      I'm going with Lord of the Rings now.

      The Gandalf wannabe, takes a step forward.

      I step back, tensing as he continues walking towards me-

      -and right past me towards the fire.

      He takes a seat on a large rock that's already positioned next to the fire. Reaching over he takes a ladle from the pot, stirring whatever's inside.

       I just stand there, the stick still in my hand.

       What now?

       I've never been good at talking to people, and this predicament I'm in apparently doesn't allow me any exceptions judging by the way my throat is getting an uncomfortable tightness to it, heart hammering under my ribs.

      And he could be evil or something.

      "Well?"

       I jump in surprise again, my attention snapping once again back to the old man.

       He's still staring down in the pot, acting so much like he didn't just say something that I'm beginning to doubt he did.

       I shift my feet, clearing my throat.

      "What?" I ask, my voice coming out quieter than intended.

       He just keeps looking down, an aurora of calmness and wisdom surrounding him.

       His lips finally move. "Are you just going to continue to stand there like a fool with a stick." I see him glance up at me, and I feel my face heat up. "Or are you going to come over here and eat something?" He pulls his hood back, uncovering snowy white hair.

      Something familiar strikes me, the stick unconsciously dropping from my hands. I cross my arms, confusion swirling in my mind.

      Why does something seem familiar about him?

     And why does he think I'd accept food from a stranger that could've poisoned the food?

     My aunt taught me never to accept food from strangers....among other things.

     No, sorry. But I've made it this far, and I'd rather not die from food poisoning from some random old man....some oddly familiar old man.

     He gives me a look, then shakes his head. "Suit yourself." He slowly pours some of the soup into a bowl that he's pulled out of nowhere.

      "But if I had to guess." He takes a sip. "You must be mighty hungry by now." He raises a brow at me, a small smirk growing on his lips as he takes another sip.

       I frown, my eyes unconsciously watching each movement of his spoon.

      Oh come on, I'm not that hungry.

       And right as I think that my stomach gives a loud grumble, the noise carrying around the campsite.

      Way to go stomach.

       Traitor.

       He glances up at me, the small smirk still plastered on his lips as he offers me another bowl he just filled.

      You know, I don't like this guy.

     I grumble a few choice words under my breath, taking the few steps forward towards the fireplace.

     I stiffly sit down on a log across the fire from him, happiness just radiating off me. Unfolding my arms I slowly take the bowl he's still offering to me.

     I look down into it, seeing chunks of what looks like meat and a few different vegetables floating around.

     I tap the bowl with the wooden spoon, glancing back over at him.

     He's taking another sip from his spoon, posture relaxed-like eating with random teenagers around a fire is a daily occurrence.

      I look back down at the soup, uncertainty clouding my mind.

      Well either he's gonna die too, or the soup isn't in fact poisoned.

      Who'd of thought?

      I hesitantly bring the spoon up to my mouth, taking a small sip.

      My taste buds explode with flavor as the warm soup trickles over my tongue, my stomach immediately complaining for more.

      I quickly eat the rest, suddenly realizing that I've been starving.

      What? It has been practically two days since I've last eaten anything.

     I glance over at the still sleeping form of Roxie.

     How's she still asleep?

      .......Eh, oh well.

      I wipe the bowl clean, wishing I had more of....whatever that was.

Rabbit stew?

      I place the bowl down next to his discarded one, my foot tapping the ground as I take a drink of water from a wooden cup he's given me. And yes, I said wood.

     So, what now?

      I play with a loose string on my jeans, keeping my head angled down. "Uh, thank you....for the food." I manage to get out.

      He takes a second. "Your very welcome." I hear the smile in his voice.

      I reach my left hand up to my forehead, pushing away some hair that keeps falling down into my eyes.

      Huh.

      It usually doesn't......do that, unless....

     My heart stops, chest tightening with panic as I suddenly realize something very important.

     My beanie is gone.

     Disappeared.

     Nada.

      Not there......

     And I liked that beanie.

      I tuck my head in, almost feeling like I'm completely naked without it.

      He probably thinks I'm some sort of freak......Well actually, judging on what he's wearing, and what we're wearing. I'd say both me and Roxie look like freaks.

    And exactly why hasn't he asked any questions? Like why are we dressed in a completely different attire from what he's wearing. Or why he found two passed out teenagers at the rivers side?

      I peak over at him.

      He's leaning back, an old looking wood pipe now sticking out between his lips as he  stares over at me with examining eyes.

      I avoid eye contact, looking back down at my lap.

      "Your friend should be awake soon."

      I nod, already assuming that.

      "Where are we?" I finally ask, looking up at him as I wait to see what he does.

       What if he doesn't understand my question?

       But something tells me he does.

       He stares into my eyes, face serious as he thinks over my question.

       He suddenly breaks eye contact, a flash of sadness crossing his gaze before he looks down. He taps his pipe out on the side of the rock, using something to clean out the end of it.

      "On the shore of the West Sídphen river." He crushes some type of dried plant into the end of his pipe, continuing his relaxed pose.

       I frown, irritation bubbling within me.

       "That's not what I mea-"

        "I know what you meant." He interrupts, looking up at the sky as he mumbles something to himself.

       He takes a breath, seeming to be trying not to get mad. "But as there are two of you, and one is currently asleep. I'd rather wait to explain when I don't have to repeat myself, Callon." He elaborates, rubbing his forehead as he suddenly looks twenty years older.

      Well he could've just said so instead of answering my question with a different answer.....

       .........Wait.

      I jump into a standing position, and he slowly looks up at me with an arched brow.

      "You-you just said my name." I stutter out, eyes wide.

      He purses his lips, confusion clear on his face as he blinks a couple times.

      "You just said it at the end of that sentence." I clarify.

      His eyes light with remembrance, and he makes a face. Leaning over, he places his elbows tiredly on his knees.

      "Ah, it seems I did." He mumbles, eyes looking distant for a moment before quickly snapping back to the present.

      "My bad."

      My bad. Really?

      "How do you know my name?" I ask.

       He looks up at me. "Well first, why don't you sit back down."

       "You standing there is making me uncomfortable." He mumbles to himself.

       I quickly sit back down, perching myself at the edge of the log. My foot and hand tapping away.

       He sighs. "You really don't remember?" He asks, looking at me with sad eyes.

       Well obviously not.

       "Remember what exactly?" I question, my foot tapping the ground even faster.

       He looks me in the eye again. "That we've met before."

       Huh?

       I take another look at his face, finding myself hit with another wave of familiarity.

       Why does he seem so familiar?

        Then, like a doors been open, memories-I've long since sealed away, come rushing back into my mind like a river.

       I suck in a surprised breath.

       Is he....?

       No.

       He can't be.

       It's not possible.

       Yet the closer I look at him, the more I'm convinced.

       That crooked half smile that seems to live on his lips, the weird way he talks, even the way he holds himself.

       All lead me to believe.

       "Old Man Grim?" I slowly ask, leaning closer as I gauge his reaction.

        He immediately frowns-like he just ate something unpleasant. "Ah yes, your aunt has quite the sarcastic side does she not?" He says through tight lips.

        I feel a smile stretch across my face.

       It can't be.

       But it is.

Old Man Grim.

        He used to come visit me and my aunt once a year for a couple days, Orenda always nagging him with silly nicknames and jokes.

       Which is how we got stuck calling him Old Man Grim

        And as you can see, he loves it.

        I don't remember much about him, seeing as its been five years since the last time he visited us.

        I used to ask what happened to him after he disappeared. Orenda always saying he's too busy, or couldn't get away.

       And eventually the memories grew hazy, I stopped asking because Orenda would get a worried look about her and not be herself for the rest of the day-acting like her cat just got run over.

      I forgot.

       My smile falls off.

        "It's been five years." I mumble. "What'd you expect." I refer to when he asked why I couldn't remember.

        He stays silent.

        "So why'd you stop visiting? Where've you been? What've you been doing?" I ramble off, motioning around me at the scenery.

        He holds a hand up, looking slightly disgruntled.

        "As I said, I think it best if we wait for everyone to hear at once." He repeats, standing up.

       "I'll be getting more wood for the night," he motions to the sleeping Roxie. "you can wake her." He gives me a sympathetic grimace, leaning his staff against a rock before walking down the way he came from.

      Well, so much for that.

      But how in the world is someone I knew growing up, here...wherever Here is.

      What's that supposed to mean.

      I rub my aching forehead, feeling the headache behind my eyes start to build from all the confusion that's swirling in my brain.

      I glance back at Roxie.

      Might as well get this over with.

      I stand up, walking the five or so feet over to her.

      Crouching down, I hesitate as I hold my left hand over her shoulder.

     The cool breeze blows over me, my unrestrained hair flying wildly around with it.

      A cold hand squeezes my heart.

     She's gonna see.

      But she probably heard about my ears from the incident in the cafeteria. You know, when Brian embarrassed me in front of the whole school.

      How could she of not heard about it?

      I swallow away the sudden dryness in my throat, wishing I could retake my hoodie she's currently wearing.

     Come on Callon, just do it.

     But there's also the topic of what happened up on that cliff, she'll want answers.

     Answers I don't have.

     Heck, I don't even know what exactly happened.

     I let a deep breath out, shaking her shoulder.

     And just like when we were in the woods. I get no response.

     Geez, she's like literally dead to the world when she's asleep.

     I cock my head to the side, reaching back behind me.

     Holding the wooden cup in my hand, I promptly dump it onto her relaxed face.

     And let me just say that got a reaction out of her.

     She sputters bolting straight up, eyes wide as she frantically looks around.

     Whoops.

     I stand up, walking back to campfire. Unconsciously positioning myself so my ears aren't the first thing she'll see when she looks at me.

     She grimaces, wiping her face off with her hands. Then she suddenly stops-like she just realized something.

     She looks down at the blankets with tired confused eyes, then her head snaps over to me.

     And if looks could kill, I'd be dead.

     Her nostrils flare, eyes connecting with the cup that I foolishly still have clutched in my hand.

       "Uh, my bad." I try, giving a shrug as I hide the cup behind my back.

       She makes a move to stand up but her eyes catch sight of the rest of the camp, freezing her in place.

       Her anger evaporates, more confusion clouding her eyes.

       "What is all...this?" She motions around.

       I shrug again, carelessly looking down at the cup in my hand. "Long story short, we were rescued, brought here, revived." I refill my cup with some more water that's in a canteen. "Oh, and apparently I know the person who saved us." I finish up, getting a drink, my throat dry once again.

      She just stares at me.

      I clear my throat, nervously rubbing the back of my neck.

      "So about what happened on the cliff." I start. "I rea-" she puts her hand up, cutting me off.

       "Don't bother with explanations, I just want to forget it and pretend it never happened." She sternly says, eyes hard.

        I swallow, nodding my head slowly.

       She slowly gets up, walking over to the fireplace. Crossing her arms, she stares down into the fire with haunted eyes.

        I feel guilt squeeze my chest.

       I retake my seat, getting a clean bowl and carefully scooping some of the soup into it.

        "Here." I hand her the soup with a spoon, motioning for her to take a seat on another log that's to the right of mine.

        She sits, examining the soup with cautious eyes.

         "I know you said that you miraculously know this guy, but how do we know the soup isn't like drugged or something-" She suddenly stops, and I bring my eyes up from the fire, back to her.

         She's got her mouth open from stopping mid sentence, her hand frozen above the bowl, eyes wide as she stares at my face.

        My ears.

        And here comes the embarrassment.

        I look away from her, nervously rubbing my leg.

        "And here I thought they were all kidding." She mumbles in disbelief to herself, thankfully not seeming like she's about to freak out or anything.

        "What?" I question, feeling a sudden curiosity.

         She moves her eyes from my ears, meeting my gaze.

         "Uh, at school. Everyone was talking about you having uh.....weird ears." She obviously sugarcoats it, glancing away from me.

         "Riiight." I drawl out, feeling the awkward tension in the air. "And it's not drugged or anything, I've already had some." I tell her, referring to the soup.

         She just sits there, her attention on her soup bowl as she takes a dainty sip from the spoon.

        Well, at least we've got that over with.

         Sorta.

        "So this person that apparently saved us. Where is he and how do you know him?" She gives me a curious glance, still not meeting my gaze completely.

      I take a breath. "He's out getting some firewood, and he said when he gets back that he'll answer any questions." I say, poking the fire with a stick. "And as of how I know him." I give a wry laugh. "He used to come visit me and my aunt once a year, but it's been five years since I last saw him." I sum up.

        She looks thoughtful, glancing around the campsite again.

        "I don't know Callon." She makes a face. "I mean, you said it yourself. We're not on earth. So how do you know this is really the person you think it is?"

      I open my mouth, but she cuts me off.

     That seems to be happening to me a lot these days.

      "How can you really trust him?" She shakes her head, going back to eating now that she's determined it's not poisoned.

      I stay silent, a sliver of doubt twisting in my mind.

      "Let's hear him out, then we'll decide what to do." I say. "Maybe he'll know how to get back to earth."

       She nods, going back to eating her soup.

        What if she's right?

        What if he isn't really the person I once knew?

        I used to consider him a part of our small family, often imagining him as the grandfather I never had.

        He would bring gifts every time he visited, making the usual solemn atmosphere turn to one of excitement and joy.

        I remember feeling betrayed when he stopped coming. Thinking maybe he found a better family, or that he simply never cared for us.

       I hear footsteps, then the man himself walks back into the little clearing, arms loaded with firewood.

       He places them down onto a pile of already gathered wood, grimacing while he flexes his back a few times.

       "I'm getting much too old for this." He grumbles to himself, half wobbling back over to his rock-seat.

        He lets a grateful sigh out, taking a long drink from his cup.

        Roxie looks over at me with a raised eyebrow, not looking very impressed.

        I just shrug, my foot tapping the ground while I impatiently wait for someone to say something.

        Finally Roxie can't take it any longer.

        "So who are you? And where are we exactly?" She says without even a hint of hesitation, eyes fixed firmly over at him, obviously taking notice of his odd attire.

         He nods, placing his cup down.

         "Ah yes, I believe some introductions are in order as I've not had the pleaser of meeting you either." He says.

         He suddenly stands, his cloak fanning out behind him as he gives a formal bow towards Roxie.

      Roxie looks at him with surprise, clearly not expecting that of all things.

       I wasn't either if I was being honest.

       I mean, who bows these days?

       He ends his bow with a hand flourish. "Torion Crimsonghast." He introduces, going back into a regular standing position.

       Roxie blinks. "Uh, Roxie Wright." She slowly says, still seeming a bit shocked by his presentation.

       Old Grim sits back down-and yes, I'm not letting that nickname go so easily.

       He goes back to fiddling with his pipe. "Now, ask away." He looks at me, then over to Roxie.

       Uhhhhhh......

      "First off." Roxie starts. "Since we're obviously not on earth," She meets Old Grims gaze, eyes unflinching. "where are we then?" Her voice fades.

       He stands up.

       "Ah yes, that would be the most imperative question." He walks around the fire, picking his staff back up.

       "No." He shakes his head. "You are indeed, Not on Earth."

       I see Roxie's face fall as her last shred of hope gets dashed away.

       The wind picks up, blowing Grims cloak around him as he stops back in front of us.

       "This." He motions around him, eyes alighting with something I can't identify.

        "This is a world you could only imagine, a fantasy land." He stares at us, his posture proud.

        "This is the Kingdom of Orelon."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{Deep Inside Orelon Castle}

      Large gold engraved doors swing slowly open, the noise from their rusty hinges echoing throughout the dimly lit room.

      Moisture hangs in the air from a scorching warmth, dark curtains hanging across the once majestic glass windows, blocking any light.

      Someone steps through the doorway, the doors towering over the figure like giants would ants.

      The Light Elf walks undaunted down the short hallway. Paintings hang in rows along the hall, vicious rips and tears marking the once breathtaking pictures.

       He stops as he reaches the end of the hall. His blood red cape fluttering out around him as he comes to attention, hand grasping firmly-yet relaxed, onto the hilt of his sword at his hip.

       Another Light Elf-much taller than the first, stands facing a grand painting. A white and red silk cape draped across his back, posture straight as a board as he stares the painting down.

      And beside him, on his knees. Is another figure.

      He keeps his head obediently bowed down, a large blue and black mark covering half his face, blood dripping down his chin, left arm hanging limp at his side as he tries yet fails to make himself as small as possible.

       Trying to be invisible.

      A heavy silence fills the already silent room.

     The captain of the guard shifts his feet. "There's been a magic disturbance." His light as air voice informs. "I'm taking my best men to track it down, sire."

        More silence.

        The other Light Elf cracks his neck, blood stained hands fisting at his sides as he continues to stare up at the old family portrait.

        Two adults stand in the painting, a toddler held protectively in the females arms. Faces frozen in time, an obvious joyous moment as all three smile.

         Pale skin, raven black hair and startling dark blue eyes make up the male and the toddlers features. The female standing out with her jade green eyes, soft brown hair and sun kissed skin.

         "Yes," A silky smooth voice says. "I've....felt it." The Light Elf says.

          The captain of the guard straightens, awaiting further instructions.

          The Light Elf pats the head of the kneeling figure at his feet. "I've also just been informed here by our friend-although it wasn't without a little....persuasion." He lightly says, suddenly kicking the figure hard in the stomach.

          He falls to the stone floor coughing up blood, attempting to quiet his strangled gasps for air that are filling the room.

         The Light Elf looks down at him with disinterest. "That," he continues, carefully positioning some gold hair away from his face. "It is time." He breaths out, his right hand coming up to rub his left shoulder-as if it pained him.

          "So that means....?" The captain trails off, clearly not wanting to overstep his boundaries.

           The Light Elf nods. "It means." He suddenly lunges out at the portrait, a sword clasped firmly in his hand.

          A loud ringing echoes around the room as the sword hits the stone behind the portrait. Then more silence.

          The captain stares over at the Light Elf with little to no surprise, his posture nothing but relaxed.

         The Light Elf straightens himself back up, placing his swords swiftly back into its scabbard as he takes a deep breath.

         "It means." He repeats, staring at the painting. A fresh tear running down the middle of the toddlers face, magical blue eyes staring undauntedly back.

         The Light Elf turns around, meeting the captain eyes.

         Then he breaths out three words.

          "He is here."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N

     Oh snap! They finally know where they are, and elves are tearing up family portraits. (You really should watch your temper, it can get ugly mister.)

       Hehe.

       I apologize for taking forever.....Again. But, guys, I was hit with some writers-block!😱 I got through it. (Eventually 😰) but it just wasn't coming, so yeah, sorry. Hope this didn't suck too much?

       Questions:

1. What do ya think of Old Man Grim?😜

         2. Whatcha think of this little ending I had here? (You know, with the Light elves.) Anything stick out to you? Make you curious?

         3. So now that they can finally ask someone some questions, what do you think they should ask? (Maybe I'll use your questions in the next chapter 😉....and it would be helpful actually.😁)

        Okay, so you remember Zelma? (The German Shepard my brother in-law got) Well, my sister (the one who's married to him.) Ended up getting........another dog!

      Yeah, I know. It was a complete surprise to us also.😜

        Meet Apollo! He's a Doberman Pinscher, and sooo cute!😍 he's only like ten weeks old right now, and apparently where she got him from, they weren't feeding him enough and he was literally like skin and bones last week. (When she first got him) But he's doing much better now. Has more energy and more meat on those bones.

         And don't worry, they both get along.😉

        Update: After I get nine votes and I Update my other book.

        Teaser: Callon and Roxie get some information about where they are and other...important things. (So mostly a filler chapter.)