For Delgar's twelfth birthday, Daegar was at a loss for what to get his son. He considered more wooden toys, but Delgar's collection of Dragons and unicorns had grown steadily until it was threatening to take over his small room. Then Daegar thought about giving Delgar a bigger room, but the harvest hadn't been as kind that year, and he had to spend all his time trying to make up the shortfall.
    Then he asked Helyna what she thought, but the conversation was less than productive.
    “How about some more wooden Dragons?” she asked, washing some tomatoes for market.
    Daegar shook his head. “He already has too many of those, and Wigmund told me that if I ask for another Dragon, he'll burn the house down.”
    “That sounds like Wigmund,” Helyna commented, placing a plump, ripe tomato carefully into a wicker basket. “Have you ever known him to be anything other than gruff?”
    “Never,” Daegar replied. “He thinks he was born to be a reaver.”
    Another tomato came out of the water bucket and was placed in the basket. “Did he ever try?”
    “Oh yes,” Daegar chuckled. “His heart was in the right place, but he couldn't hit the side of a castle with a sword.”
    Helyna handed him the basket. “That is for market today; we'll keep the rest. What about a horse?”
    “He's a big lad, but not that big. Are we selling those lettuces?”
    She shook her head. “Just the tomatoes. How about a dog?”
    Daegar pulled a black cloak over his grey tunic and fastened it. “Too expensive. We need to spend the money on meat, remember?”
    “Take Delgar with you to market,” Helyna said. “Maybe you'll see something there. Besides, I don't need his help today.”
    Daegar took the basket and kissed her. “I think Delgar is already there with Thorgar. I'll be back by sundown.” With that, he was out the door.
    He loaded the basket on his wagon and set off, the morning sun at his back. The ride was pleasant and peaceful, and several times he passed neighbors on their way back, bundles of supplies in their hands. He just hoped he could sell what he had; they only had two thirds of last year's harvest, and he still needed to buy as much meat as last year.
    The village market was always a sight to see. All of the merchants were out, calling their wares from their small booths. Daegar grinned as he saw Wigmund holding a wooden Dragon up to some children.
    “No more Dragons, huh?” he called.
    “They pay more than you do,” Wigmund retorted with a playful smile.
    Daegar stopped the cart just behind his booth and began to unload his wares. Oddly, there was no sign of Delgar. Daegar looked around for a moment, then shook his head; it was, after all, a small village, and everybody knew everybody else. No doubt the boy had just wandered off to the far side of the market.
    As he finished putting out the tomatoes and started on the cucumbers, he heard Delgar behind him.
    “Dada, dada!” Delgar said, leaping up and hugging him. “Thorgar told me an incredible story, and showed me some big swords, and he...”
    Daegar silenced him with a kiss on the cheek. “Wait, little one, wait! I only just got here, after all.”
    “Hello, farmer,” Thorgar said. Daegar looked up from his son to see the warrior wearing his shining coat of mail and a flowing blue cloak.
    “The season was good to you, Thorgar,” Daegar said. The warrior grinned.
    “And was it as good to you?”
    Daegar shook his head. “A storm destroyed one of our fields, but we'll survive. We always have.”
    “If you have any trouble, just ask,” the warrior offered. “The raids were very rich this year.”
    “Just a moment,” Daegar said, turning to his son. “It's your birthday today, and I want you to take this,” he dropped a couple of silver coins into Delgar's hand, “and get yourself something really nice. No weapons, though.”
    Delgar’s eyes filled with glee. “I’m going to buy a Dragon!”
    Daegar chuckled. “Well, if you ask Wigmund kindly enough...”
    The boy shook his head. “Not a wooden Dragon. A real one!”
    Daegar gave Thorgar a harsh look as the warrior stiffled his laughter. “You might have some trouble finding a real one. But if you can find a real Dragon, be very careful.”
    Delgar hugged his dada and wandered off into the crowd.
    Thorgar took out a long, sheathed sword and placed it on the table by the tomatoes. “I told you I would bring you this.”
    “You know I don't want it.”
    “Daegar, the goblins raided Torant this summer,” Thorgar pointed out. “They're getting farther inland, and in a couple of winters they could be here.”
    “Haven't you warriors been able to find them?” the farmer asked.
    Thorgar shook his head. “They move too fast. By the time we arrive they've gone, and covered their tracks.”
    “Well, if it will take them a couple of winters to get this far inland, then I won’t need this until then,” Daegar asserted.
    The warrior only shook his head. “Daegar, you can't just swing a sword with skill the first time. You have to be trained.”
    “And who will train me?” the farmer snorted. “Wigmund?”
    “Wigmund couldn't hit the side of a longship with help. Edgewulf or Wigfrith could teach you, though.”
    “I was joking.”
    “I wasn't.”
    Daegar sighed, lifting the sword in his hand and finding it surprisingly light. “I’ll see what I can do. No promises, though.”
    “You’ll have to do better.”
    Daegar nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”
    “That blade is named ‘Warrior’s Bane,’ and is quite ancient,” Thorgar said. “It will serve its bearer well.”
    Daegar held the sword up to the sunlight, drawing it partially out of its sheath. The wavy pattern shone in the light, writhing as if alive, but Daegar shook his head. In the end, it was only a piece of steel that could have been used for something better.


Delgar wandered the market, fingering the money in his hand. He wasn't that good at reading and counting yet, but he figured he had just over half a crown. He wondered if it would be enough to buy him a grass drake.
    He glanced at Wigmund, who had a line of wooden Dragons on his table. For a moment he was tempted, but he already had four wooden Dragons, and the thought of a living Dragon made his heart flutter with joy. Passing the table by, he headed towards a small animal merchant.
    “What do you want?” rasped the man, a scarred, gangly figure. “I can sell you a lovely puppy.”
    “I don’t want a puppy,” Delgar said. “I want a grass drake.”
    The man chuckled. “I don’t sell those. Nobody does.”
    “Why?” Delgar asked, scratching his dark sandy hair.
    “They’re taboo,” the merchant said. “Nobody’s allowed to touch them.”
    “Why are they taboo?”
    The merchant shrugged. “Maybe they have powerful friends?”
    “I touched one,” Delgar declared. “It sat on my arm.”
    The merchant smiled. “Of course you did.”
    “It sat on your arm?” came a new voice.
    Delgar turned to see a girl his own age staring at him. She had long blonde hair, and she held a grass doll in her hands. She wore a rough dress, not unlike what the rest of the village women wore.
    Delgar nodded. “It sat on my arm for almost five minutes!”
    The girl smiled, eyes wide. “Wow! You actually touched one!”
    Delgar stuck out his hand. “I'm Delgar.”
    “I’m Lera,” the girl said, taking it. “My family just moved here.”
    “Who's your dada?”
    “Wulfgar. Who's yours?”
    “Daegar.”
    “I like you,” Lera said, sticking her hands behind her. “You’re neat.”
    “I like you,” Delgar replied. “You’re pretty.”
    Lera blushed.
    “Lera!” a deep voice called. “I need your help, honey!”
    “I've got to go,” Lera said, dashing off. “I’ll see you later!”
    “Goodbye!” Delgar called.
    “She’s certainly a pretty one,” a voice said behind Delgar. “Do you like her?”
    Delgar turned to see a tall, strange man. He had the purest long, blond hair the boy had ever seen, and he wore a grey tunic and a grey cloak. Even standing, he had a catlike grace. In his hand he held a wide brimmed, floppy hat, and at his belt was buckled a strange, curved sword.
    “I like her,” Delgar said. “Who are you?”
    “I’m Daelyn,” the stranger said. “And what’s your name?”
    “Delgar.”
    Daelyn kneeled, the action more graceful than anything Delgar had ever seen. “You should be careful about who you give your name to. Names are very powerful, you know. Only give your name if somebody has given theirs first.”
    Delgar nodded. “What do you do?”
    “I wander,” Daelyn replied. “I go here, and there, and everywhere.”
    “You move funny.”
    Daelyn smiled. “I guess I do. I’ll tell you a secret, though. Do you want to hear a secret?”
    Delgar nodded enthusiastically.
    “I’m a Tuatha de Danaan,” Daelyn whispered.
    “What’s a...Tuatha de Danan?”
    “An Elf, child, an Elf.”
    “Your ears aren't pointy.”
    “An Elf doesn't have to have pointy ears.”
    Delgar's face split in a wide grin. “Can you do magic?”
    Daelyn smiled. “Absolutely. All Elves can.”
    “Can you tell the future?”
    Daelyn nodded. “Sometimes.”
    “Can you tell mine?”
    “Be very careful what you ask for,” Daelyn said. “The future is a very dangerous thing to know.”
    “I’m not afraid.”
    “I’ll tell you a bit, how’s that?”
    Delgar nodded.
    Daelyn held his hand close to the boy's forehead and closed his eyes. For a moment, Delgar felt strange, invisible forces acting around him, swirling like a cyclone, bearing him off into infinity. In that moment, he felt a great love, a great sadness, the chill wind of an everlasting winter, and the brief kiss of a strange mist.
    Daelyn opened his eyes, and then he and Delgar stood in the market again, surrounded by people.
    “That felt neat!” Delgar declared.
    “You actually felt something?” Daelyn asked. When Delgar looked up, he saw an odd expression on the Tuatha de Danaan’s face.
    “It was...it was...indescribable,” Delgar said, frowning for a moment at the big word he had just used.
    “You have great potential,” Daelyn said. “Very few could feel the magic I just used.”
    “Did you see my future?”
    Daelyn nodded. “I see greatness and incredible sorrow. I will not tell you more, except to say that we will meet again.”
    “Why not?”
    “Sorry?”
    “Why won’t you tell me more?”
    Daelyn pursed his lips. “Because the future is not set. Even those who are heavily touched by Wyrd can set their own fates, but to do so they must live life in the present. Living solely in the future is a form of death.”
    Delgar frowned. “Well, can you tell me where I can get a grass drake?”
    “No,” Daelyn said. “But I will give you this for your birthday.” He took a small stone out of the pouch at his belt and put it in Delgar's hand. “That is a luckstone, and if you keep it with you always, it will protect you. Now, use your money to get a chain for it. Well met, and fare well.”
    With that, Daelyn stood up and disappeared into the crowd. Gazing at the stone in his hand, Delgar’s eyes widened. The stone was colorless and translucent, and in the middle of the perfectly rounded stone was a hole, just large enough for a small chain.
    Delgar wandered the market, looking for a chain for his new stone. Finally, he found one at the southern part of the market, where he ran into Thorgar again.
    “What did you get yourself?” the big warrior asked.
    Delgar held up the stone and grinned.
    Thorgar's eyes widened. “A luckstone! Where did you get it?”
    “Daelyn gave it to me!”
    “Who’s Daelyn?”
    “He’s a wanderer,” Delgar replied. “He told me I'd be great in the future!”
    “If you’ve found a luckstone, than you just may be. Put that around your neck and take it back to your Dada. He’ll want to see it.”
    “And where are you going, uncle Thorgar?”
    “I have to go home now,” Thorgar replied. “I’m setting out on an expedition tomorrow, and I have to prepare. Being a warrior isn’t all fun and games, you know.”
    “Bye Uncle Thorgar,” Delgar said, and ran off into the crowd. He pushed his way through the throng of people until he came to his fathers stall, where most of the tomatoes had sold.
    “Dada! Look what I've got!” Delgar called, holding up the luckstone.
    Daegar's eyes widened. “Now that is remarkable! How much did it cost you?”
    “It was given to me by Daelyn. The chain cost me a silver. And I met this beautiful girl named Lera, and I-”
    Daegar silenced him with a hug. “Not so fast, little one. You're growing up, though. Just look at the way you're talking.”
    And, for a moment, Daegar noted how Delgar seemed to be just a bit taller, just a bit more mature, and a bit more confident.
    But then Daegar's gaze dropped to the luckstone, his mind reeling with the ancient tales of Elf-kind. If Delgar had been given one, then he was special indeed. He would get his son books, he decided. He would teach Delgar to read properly and perhaps his son would be far more than just a farmer.
    But then some customers arrived, and he pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind.