Dawn had barely broken when Tro'go picked up their trail again. It led north, just as he'd expected. By midday he'd caught up to find the whole band in a foul mood, their usual crossing point of the Adelwending was impassable, recent rains having turned the river savage. Krama was leading, and livid.  "Boss won’t be happy, my ‘ead on a spike 'e'll 'ave!"

"If you’re lucky-" came a reply which was cut short by Krama’s fist hitting the quick lipped troll in the face. 

"Anyone ‘ave anything to add?" Krama asked, the silence he received gave its answer.

Tro’go followed them for several hours as the troll band walked further west up river, he had become over confident in following them, probably gotten far too close, using his small size and natural camouflage to hide himself, when he thought he had been spotted.  The band went still, one was looking at the mud just by the rivers edge, Krama was issuing silent orders using hand signals, all seemed to follow him quickly and silently.  The two trolls whispered causing Tro’go to strain to hear.

"Dey never come this far sarf, dems always stay narf of der river, must be something else..." Krama was whispering.

"It’s them, there, thats the horse print and there’s a foot, it’s not our tracks and too shallow for a heavy foot, it’s them... they’re hunting us!"  The other troll replied, he picked up his weapon and backed up towards the edge of the flowing river. "They’ll be watching us now, planning the ambush, we’re all dead!"

"Shurrup!  No need for dems to track us with you mouthing off.  If they were close we’d be dead already.  Psst, everyone, elves, keep quiet, keep eyes open." Krama and the rest were on high alert; Tro’go was now far too close to this band of trolls who would kill him if they found him.  He let them slowly move away, which they seemed to do silently, or as silent as a band of heavily armed trolls could.  It wasn’t until he knew they were fully out of ear shot, that he let out a huge sigh.  Whoever these elves were, the trolls were terrified of them.

It took a day for Tro’go to catch back up with the band. Finally the trolls had reached an apparent less treacherous crossing point. The water here was deep, fast-flowing, with currents strong enough to drag down a grown man in armour.

The trolls, quickly made crude rafts, they put their provisions upon them, a troll to each corner as they braved the rushing water and pulled the rafts across.  One troll, the one Krama had punched earlier, lost his footing, quickly disappearing below the rushing waves, Tro’go caught himself nearly standing up and shouting as the trolls hand waved desperately about trying to grab something to stop him from being washed away, but then he saw Krama on the far side of the river, for a moment too long he seemed to ponder, then he barked orders "Save dat stupid bloody idiot before ‘e drowns!" as he threw out a rope towards the hand still desperately grabbing at nothing. 

After a while the troll was pulled up on the bank, he looked at Krama as if to thank him.

"Don’t fank me, your armour is worth more to boss dan you are!" Krama said, turning his back on him.

Meanwhile the rest had managed the crossing after considerable effort and no small amount of cursing.

Tro'go stood on the bank, watching them disappear into the northern wilderness. Even if he could somehow cross here, which seemed unlikely given his size, he'd lose their trail completely, and it would take an age to catch back up. His reconnaissance was over.

He turned to follow the river's course instead, letting it guide him eastward. After an hour of walking, he paused to study the distant outline of the Deadwood Forest, barely visible on the horizon.

"I guess there is no home anymore," he said aloud, the words accompanied by a small sniff. The admission should have felt devastating, but instead it brought an odd sense of freedom. If he had no home to return to, then anywhere could become home.

The river guided him through a landscape that grew more beautiful with each mile. Where the Deadwood had been a monument to ancient death, this country was vibrantly alive. The Adelwending wound through green meadows dotted with wildflowers, past groves of oak and ash that rustled with birdsong.

As the day wore on, Tro'go realised he was genuinely hungry for the first time in days. At the village, he'd accepted no food from the grateful villagers, feeling he shouldn't burden them more than he already was. It was a habit he'd fallen into since leaving home, forgetting to eat, forgetting to care for himself. Before, thinking of his stomach had driven most of his decisions. It's what had made him leave the cave that day...

He pushed that thought aside and focused on the river. After some experimentation with a makeshift spear, he managed to catch several fish. The meal that followed was the heartiest he'd enjoyed in some time, and he found himself humming contentedly as he used a fishbone to pick at his teeth.

The landscape continued to change as he travelled. Mountains began to rise before him, larger than any he'd ever seen, their peaks lost in clouds. The valley narrowed, forcing the Adelwending into a white froth of fury as it rushed between towering stone walls. The trek became treacherous, with loose rocks and narrow ledges. Tro'go's footing slipped several times, and each near-miss with the churning water below reminded him of the troll nearly being washed away, how no one would be there to help, and also how much he hated getting wet.

But gradually the river widened and calmed, and the mountains parted like curtains revealing a stage. Before him lay Scrimere, a lake so vast it might have been an inland sea. The sound of falling water drew him toward its source: the Maereburn Falls, where the Adelwending spread wide and shallow in a perfect crescent shape before spilling into the lake below. From above, it would appear like a silver moon laid upon the earth.

Tro'go found a comfortable spot beside the falls, letting his legs swing over the edge of one of the rocky steps. The sun beat down on his face, warming the pot helm that had become as much a part of him as his own ears. For the first time in weeks, he felt truly relaxed. His cares seemed to melt away like snow in the first warm rays of spring.

Then a shadow shot across him.

The roar that followed wasn't quite the same as that terrible day, but it was close enough. Similar enough. The sound dragged him back, back to smoke and flame, back to the moment everything changed. His hands began to shake. Tro'go's blood turned to ice as he studied the dragon swooping low over Scrimere, its feet trailing in the water as it snatched a fish from the surface.

He'd never actually seen a dragon before, but he'd definitely heard one. He knew what they could do. What they did do.

Not again. Not like this. He couldn't be here when it—

Without conscious thought, Tro'go was on his feet, gathering his belongings with shaking hands. Direction didn't matter. He just had to go. Now.

His feet thudded through the undergrowth as he fled, his heart pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else. He barely registered the old man bending down to examine something in the bushes before he collided with him full force.

Both of them ended up sitting in the dirt, appearing thoroughly bewildered.

"What in the world!" the old man exclaimed, brushing leaves from his beard.

"I'm sorry!" Tro'go gasped, still shaking. "I didn't see you in time!"

The man studied him curiously, taking in his makeshift armour and obvious distress. "A greolen, are you? And some kind of soldier?"

"A knight," Tro'go managed, trying to steady his breathing. "I'm Tro'go. I'm just... looking for a new quest. To help people."

"A knight, eh?" The old man's face brightened. "Well, I'm Garther, and as it happens, I have a quest for you."

Garther explained that he'd been fishing in Scrimere as he had since childhood, always finishing with a little swim that helped his old bones. But when he'd returned home, he'd discovered his most precious possession was missing; a pendant.

"It's my treasure," Garther said. "Priceless it is. I was searching for it here, hoping I'd simply dropped it, but..." He gestured toward the lake where the dragon could still be seen circling. "I fear that beast has taken it. Dragons do love their treasure, don't they?"

Tro'go's mouth went dry. "You want me to... ask a dragon about your pendant?"

"Will you help me?" Garther's face was so kind, so full of hope, that Tro'go heard himself saying "Yes, of course" before his brain could object.

What had he done? He'd just agreed to confront a dragon.

As Garther recounted his day; where he'd fished, where he'd swum, when he'd last seen the pendant, Tro'go nodded continuously while absorbing perhaps half the words. His mind was too busy cycling through various scenarios, all of which ended with him being reduced to ash or eaten alive.

When Garther finally stopped talking, Tro'go nodded with as much confidence as he could muster and strode off toward the falls. He vaguely remembered the old man mentioning them, and he knew roughly where they were, so it seemed like a good place to start his investigation.

For the next several hours, Tro'go conducted the most thorough search possible while simultaneously doing everything in his power to avoid the dragon. This proved challenging, as the creature seemed to be actively fishing, swooping down to snatch fish from various parts of the lake with impressive regularity.

Despite his fears, Tro'go couldn't help but notice the dragon's skill. Each dive was precise, each catch clean. And despite its size, easily the length of three horses, it moved through the air with surprising ease.

Eventually, Tro'go's search brought him to a rocky outcropping on the far side of the lake where he'd seen the dragon land several times to consume its catches. The area was littered with fish bones and scales, clearly a favoured dining spot judging by the sheer volume of remains.

He was examining the area when the familiar sound of a splash echoed across the water. Tro'go stood as tall as his small frame allowed, watching the dragon fly directly toward him. The creature seemed to grow larger with each wing beat while Tro'go felt correspondingly smaller.

The dragon landed with surprising delicacy, a fish nearly half Tro'go's size clutched in its talons. It ignored the greolen initially, focusing on the methodical task of removing the fish's spine before tilting its head back and swallowing the meal in one gulp.

"Hello there," the dragon said, finally acknowledging him. "Don't see many greolens around here. Even fewer who seem to be waiting to talk."

"I-I-I," Tro'go stammered, his carefully rehearsed speech evaporating.

Perhaps sensing his distress, the dragon settled down onto its belly, bringing its great head closer to eye level. The gesture somehow made it seem less imposing, giving Tro'go enough courage to find his voice.

"I'm Tro'go," he managed.

"I see," the dragon replied patiently. "And I'm Julra. Pleasure to meet you, I'm sure. Is there something I can do for you?"

The words tumbled out in a rush: "Yes, well, a necklace, you see, it's missing, an old man, he lost it, he was here, you may have seen him, fishing he was."

Julra's expression, as much as could be read on a dragon's face, seemed amused. "Searching for the old man's necklace, are we? The one who swims in the lake? I've seen him many times, never spoken to him. He seems to like keeping to himself. I think he's been coming here since before I hatched, so we don't bother each other. He fishes well, which is fortunate, the lake is well-fed by the river, so there's plenty for both of us."

"Yes, he lost his necklace. Have you seen it? Have you taken it?" Tro'go paused, then added quickly, "I know dragons like treasure."

"Taken it?" Julra drew herself up to her full, imposing height, and Tro'go suddenly felt as small as a mouse. It had been going so well, would it all end here?

"I only... I didn't mean any offense," he muttered, shutting his eyes and turning away, expecting fiery death to come swiftly.

Instead, he heard a small chuckle. When he opened his eyes, Julra was lying down again, picking a scale from her teeth with one talon.

"I care for no treasure but the shiny scales of fish," she said. "I would never take someone's jewellery. What good would it do me? No, you're searching in the wrong place. But perhaps you have the right idea, little greolen. Maybe some other winged creature would like shiny things."

Tro'go thought for a moment, so deeply that he suddenly realised he'd lost all fear of the dragon lying not six feet in front of him. The realisation startled him, but his brain also provided an answer.

"A bird!" he exclaimed.

"Clever," Julra answered. "There are many around here, but only a few would take something of that sort. Maybe a crow, a raven... there's an old magpie not too far from here."

Magpies. Tro'go remembered his last encounter with one. "Spies, here? Where is this magpie?"

Julra raised her head, a puff of smoke appearing from her snout. "Spies? Hmm, what do you know of that sorcerer? I've seen his trolls have been growing bolder lately..." She studied Tro'go more carefully. "Troubling indeed... and with Ashen the great dragon becoming more active to the south, living here is becoming more interesting by the day. But that is not our concern today, and anyway, not all magpies serve others, there are many wild birds in the world."

Tro'go felt something cold settle in his stomach at the mention of a dragon to the south. For a moment, he heard an echo of that terrible roar, saw again the orange glow that had lit the night sky... But he pushed the memory away. "Great dragon?" he asked quietly.

"A self proclaimed 'Nightmare'," Julra said dismissively. "But enough of such dark talk. You have a pendant to find and re-unite with its owner."

After receiving directions, Tro'go prepared to leave. He paused at the water's edge and turned back, causing Julra to tilt her head curiously.

"You're nice," he said. "For a dragon, thank you."

"You're brave," Julra replied. "For a greolen. And you're welcome. I hope you find what you seek."