True to the hopeful words the Speaker had uttered when the dwarf had first arrived in Qualinost, Flint and the Speaker had become unlikely friends during the course of the past months. Half a year ago, had anyone told Flint he would find himself companion to the elven lord of Qualinesti, he would have bought the fellow a tankard for telling such an uproarious joke. Although there seemed a world of difference between the tall, regal elf lord and the short, uncomplicated dwarf, each had an openness in his point of view that made bridging the gap a simple step.

And so Flint had found himself walking through the palace gardens side by side with the Speaker, talking of distant lands and ages, or sitting at the Speaker's right at a courtly dinner. There were grumbles from some of the courtiers, of course, but Flint discovered from whom Porthios and Laurana had inherited their stubbornness.

In recent weeks, especially, Flint had grown as close to Solostaran as he had to Tanis. The Speaker's ceremonial guards, each wearing a breastplate decorated with the emblem of the Sun and the Tree wrought in silver filigree, didn't bother to stop him at the Speaker's anteroom at the Tower anymore. Rather, they greeted Flint with a grin and ushered him forward to knock on the door to the Speaker's glass-walled anteroom. And the Speaker's private servants had strict orders to keep the silver bowl on the Speaker's desk filled with the dried fruits and glazed nuts that the dwarf favored. Today, the autumn sun streamed through the glass onto the new green rushes that had been strewn upon the floor, and the light in the room had a soft, heavy quality, like the light in a forest clearing.

The Speaker said he hoped Tanis wasn't becoming a pest by following Flint so closely.

"Bah," Flint said with a snort. "I can't imagine hanging about a smoky forge with an ill-tempered dwarf like me can be all that much of a joy. But don't you worry over Tanis. He's a good lad."

The Speaker smiled and nodded. "Yes, I think he is." He stood up then and moved back toward the window, gazing out into the distance as if pausing to consider something. Then he turned around and regarded the dwarf with his clear eyes. "Tanis means a great deal to me, Flint, and I think he is your friend as well.

"I know you've heard the circumstances of his birth, how my brother, Kethrenan, was slain by a band of rogue humans and how his wife, Elansa, was attacked." He sighed. "But I don't think you understand how dark a time that truly was. Those months Elansa carried the child within her, it seemed as if she had died already herself. She appeared lost. And when he was born, she passed on. But Tanis was son of my brother's wife. I could not turn my back on him."

It seemed almost as if the Speaker were arguing with someone who opposed him, rather than telling a tale to a friend. "And so I brought him with me here, to raise as my own child."

He sighed and then returned to sit facing the dwarf. Flint fidgeted with the end of his beard. It was a hard tale. "There were those who did not care for my decision," the Speaker said softly, and Flint looked up. "Not all seemed able to forgive the child the circumstances of his birth. A child, Flint- a tiny child! What fault of his was it that my brother was dead? What fault of his that Elansa had gone as well?" A trace of remembered anguish flickered across the Speaker's face.

"And those who didn't accept him…?" Flint asked softly.

"They remain, and as is the way of my people, little have they changed. I am still unsure just how much of it Tanis has noticed-though I suspect there is much the lad does not tell me. I can only hope his will be a strong enough heart to bear it. I suppose it was little enough favor I did, bringing him here. But do you see why it had to be so, Flint?"

The Speaker regarded the dwarf intently, his dark blond hair glinting in the strong light. "Despite the peace we have wrought for ourselves here, these last centuries since the Cataclysm have been dark ones, times of sorrow and upheaval. Tanis is a child of that sorrow. And if I can't bring joy to his life, then how can the sorrow be healed for any of us? For the elves or for Qualinesti?" The Speaker shook his head, and then smiled faintly. "I'm afraid I am rambling." He stood, and Flint followed suit. "I'm sorry to have taken so much of your time. I simply wanted to tell you I am glad that you've been a friend for Tanis. I fear you are probably his first, aside from his cousins."

Flint nodded and clomped to the door, but before he left, he turned around and gazed at his elven friend, his blue eyes thoughtful. "Thank you," Flint said gruffly. "He's one of my two first as well." And the dwarf left, shutting the door behind him.

The dwarf's first stay in Qualinesti ended at last. He and Tanis and the others stood at the edge of the city, by the bridge that crossed the confluence of the two rivers, the one of Tears and the other of Hope. The morning was gray and cool, and there was a sharpness to the air that smelled like snow.

"So you really have to go," Tanis said softly, gazing across the ravine.

"Aye, I think it's time I did," Flint answered. "If I'm lucky, I'll beat the first snowfall home."

Tanis only nodded. "I'll miss you," he said finally.

"Humph!" Flint said gruffly. "You'll most likely forget me inside of ten minutes, I wouldn't wonder." But weathered skin crinkled around the dwarf's eyes, and Tanis smiled.

The dwarf bade farewell to the small group gathered by the bridge: his friend the Speaker and the hooded mage, who restrained Laurana from exploring the ravine's edge. Lord Xenoth was conspicuously absent, as were Porthios and his friends. After many promises to return, Flint followed his guide and clomped across the bridge, though not without booming an oath or two that echoed off the cold stone.

With a smile and a sigh, Tanis gathered his gray cloak more tightly around him and turned to walk back to the city.

A. C. 308, Early Spring

Flint loathed horses-claimed to be allergic to them-and wouldn't ride one to save his life-well, maybe then. At any rate, he patted the neck of his gray mule, Fleet-foot, and surveyed the silvery aspens and broad oaks of Qualinesti with fond regard.

After twenty years of coming and going between Solace and the Tower of the Sun, he was almost familiar with the trail to Qualinost-a claim even few elves could make beyond the specially trained guides the Speaker of the Sun hired to escort visitors there and back. Of course, he occasionally took a wrong turn or two, but the hill dwarf who couldn't find his way by forest signs was a poor excuse for a dwarf, he thought.

Truth to tell, however, he wasn't quite sure where he was at the moment. He sat back on Fleetfoot, noting the rich earthen scent of the forest. A squirrel chattered at him from a bur oak and flung a clump of green leaves down upon him. The dwarf reached with broad fingers, deftly caught the bunch, and tossed it back into the air at the creature. "Save it for your nest!" he cried. "For if I'm not mistaken, you have family duties on your mind these days." Another squirrel appeared on a nearby branch, and the first creature, tossing one last insult at the mounted dwarf, darted off after it.

Flint drew in a large breath. It was spring, and time to return to Qualinost. It had been a hard journey back to Solace, that autumn after his first stay in the elven city. The snow had begun to fly just as he'd reached the fringes of the grove of vallenwoods, the great trees that housed the village of Solace in their branches. His elven guide had quickly disappeared back down the road, and Flint had been left alone to trudge through the snow to his little house on the ground. He found his home cold and empty, save for a single mouse cowering in the corner.