Still, Del should have enjoyed these times. The scars of the battle were fading and the elves had returned to their dance and merriment. The harsh winter could not daunt their eternal play, and now, with the season turning again and the coronation of the new King of Pallendara fast approaching, their joy seemed tenfold.

But an awkward perception, the feeling that he was trapped in a land where he did not belong, had grown like a cancer within Del. He could not escape the fact that he was from a different world, a long lost world, one of ambition and responsibility, and though he had always rebelled against those aspects of his society, the tendencies of his former life were painted indelibly on his mind. For all that he might agree with them in principle, the trivial frolicking of the elves did not satisfy his needs.

And his restlessness, he feared, might bring his dangerous knowledge crashing down on this innocent world.

His depression had only deepened with the wintry season. A beard now adorned his face; he wouldn’t be bothered with shaving, and he rarely left his room, for interaction with the elves only reminded him that he was not of this place called Aielle, was not, for all his desires, kindred spirit to the new world he and his companions had found on their emergence from the sea.

He dressed and moved to Billy Shank’s room and could not help but smile at the contented snores of his friend. Billy had grown to be at home here. His friendship with the daughter of the lord of the elven people had blossomed into something more, something wonderful.

Del thought of the upcoming coronation in the southland, and of the bond that would strengthen between the races, human and elf, and he smiled again. He and his companions had found this new world in turmoil, and despite all, had indeed done some good. “Bear witness for me,” he whispered into Billy’s ear, and he left the grand house.