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Location: Makshim Outskirts, Shiezin, Arkandia
Year: 116 4A
Status: 54 Stirring

It was the day before the last day of the year, the same day the group left the inn and set up their tents. Miyuki had gone off with Shiro to get Daeron and Iorlas’ tent and Lancaeriel had started a fire to prepare the evening meal, but without anything to cook, she hadn’t been able to do much more than tend the fire. Wren had taken the opportunity to ask Lancaeriel to show her how to use a mirror to communicate, and now she was making her first attempt in the privacy of her tent.

She set the mirror on the ground and leaned it against her bag so that she could sit cross-legged in front of it and see comfortably into it. Then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She let it out slowly, letting her senses dull as she focused on the magic that lay dormant within her. She wasn’t sure what it was supposed to feel like, and Lancaeriel had told her that it was different for different people, but she had also been assured that when she found it, she would know instinctively.

For a moment, she felt as though she was falling asleep: but suddenly a fire spread through her, something she had never felt before, a power she never knew she had. She opened her eyes and, smiling, she reached forward and brushed her fingers against the mirror. In her mind, she envisioned her father’s bedchamber, and in an instant, it appeared in the mirror.

It was dark in his bedchamber, but Wren had expected that. If she recalled correctly, the time difference between the two places was such that noon here would be early morning there, and here it was not quite noon. She had hoped to catch him still in his room, and had been prepared for the possibility that he might still be asleep.

Her heart was racing, and she bit her lower lip to keep from smiling too broadly. She was excited to speak to her father – it surprised her just how much she missed him. She took a deep breath to calm herself and called out, “Papa!”

The mirror in her father’s bedchamber was a large square one mounted on her mother’s old vanity facing towards the bed, and she saw her father turn over in his sleep and then pull the blanket up over his shoulders again.

Wren smiled to herself and tried again. “Papa! Wake up!”

With a start, Ander sat up in his bed. “Wren?” he slurred, confused. He passed one hand over his face and shook his head. “I’m dreaming again,” he muttered.

“No, Papa, I’m here!” Wren called with a laugh. Her chest felt tight, and she felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “Wake up and look in the mirror.”

Her father threw back the blanket and shuffled over to the vanity. When he slid into the chair and his face appeared in the mirror, his expression was one of utter disbelief. “Wren?” he breathed. “How is this possible?”

Wren laughed and wiped a tear from her cheek. “Magic, Papa. You remember the woman I told you about? Lancaeriel? She taught me how to do this. Oh, Papa, I miss you so much. I never thought I would be this homesick.”

Ander’s eyes grew soft, and he pressed one hand to the glass, trying to touch his daughter’s face. “Wren,” he breathed. “Not a moment passes that I don’t miss your presence. My dear, dear child … I have been so worried about you.”

Wren giggled softly. “And I about you, Papa. How have you been?”

“The same as things have always been,” he replied, rubbing his eyes. He smiled back at her. “Things are going quite well here. There have been no reports of attacks anywhere, the past few winters have been rather calm … there really are no news to pass on. But you!” His tone grew lighter as he grew more awake. “You are halfway around the world, having all kinds of adventures! Please, tell me what’s been happening!”

Smiling widely, Wren told her father as much as she could without tripping over her own tongue. It was difficult to curb her excitement, and her speech reflected it: she sounded like River at her most excited, even to her own ears. But her father didn’t stop her, didn’t interrupt except to ask questions of clarification. He was fascinated by her description of the different races and the mixtures of them as well as the places they had visited. He was floored by her tales of Kyrie and her abilities and in awe of her description of Uruloki.

“We had heard of Aranxia’s marriage here,” he murmured with a smile when Wren had finished with that tale. “Very unusual, but as Aranel and Tinúviel were there, I suppose there’s not much to say. Just don’t you go and do the same thing.”

Wren giggled. “I know, Papa. I already promised you that it wouldn’t happen. If I meet someone, you will meet him before there are any promises made. And now you won’t have to wait!” She laughed. “Papa, we can talk whenever we want like this.”

“Except that I would have no idea how to initiate,” her father pointed out with a soft chuckle. “We could set a time, perhaps once a week? I know you’re very busy.”

“We could do that,” Wren agreed. “The same time as this?”

Ander scratched the back of his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “Maybe not,” he murmured. “A few hours earlier, yes, or maybe five or six hours later would be better.”

Wren blinked. “What time is it for you, Papa? I thought it was nearly daybreak …”

Her father chuckled. “It’s the middle of the night, Wren. Though I do have to say, I do prefer talking to you than dreaming about you.”

Wren blushed, but she smiled widely. “Sorry, Papa. I will be coming home, though. It’s just going to be … a long time. This is the second country we’ve visited, and I think there are more than twenty countries for us to see. And we’ve promised Kyrie we would stay here for a year or so, so that she could spend time with her husband. It’s her price for being our guide.”

“I hope you don’t spend that much time in every country,” her father murmured. “It will be decades before I see you again then.”

“I’m sure it won’t be that long.” Wren wanted to be able to reassure her father, but beyond hoping it wouldn’t be that long, there were no words she could say. She gazed at him for a moment, feeling better just to be able to see him again. He was doing the same, but suddenly he yawned.

“Oh, Papa,” Wren sighed, “you should get back to sleep. I’m sorry I woke you. I’ll try for late evening next time. In a few days, all right?” She smiled at him. “I love you, Papa. Don’t worry about me anymore, I’ll come home again.”

He chuckled at her. “I’ll never stop worrying, Wren. You are my daughter, and you are not here with me. But I love you, too, and I have confidence that you will return to me. I will talk to you again in a few days, my dear.”

Wren’s smile widened. She didn’t want to end the conversation, but her father was showing no signs of leaving the table and he looked utterly exhausted. Reluctantly, she reached out and touched the glass, and with a shimmer, her father’s bedchamber vanished. She stared at her own reflection for a moment, then sighed and put the mirror away. It had been nice, talking with her father, and she would make sure to make it a regular thing now that she knew how.

Location: Tsara’s Cellar, Dekra, Garnelia, Arkandia
Year: 117 4A
Status: Early Spring

Night had long since fallen after the first day the group had spent in the cellar, and though the others were all asleep in their tents, sleep escaped Wren. It had been a whirlwind week since Eärendil had vanished on them. First the rush to reach Mari and the others, then an evening and an afternoon of not understanding a single word anyone was saying and very little of what was going on, all capped with an evening of catching up and getting to know the people with whom she would be spending the foreseeable future. For most people, that would be exhausting; but Wren was wide awake.

After tossing and turning for a while, she gave up. She tried to think what the time would be back home, and she quickly concluded that since it was the middle of the night here, it must be daylight there. She reached for her bag and, working as quietly as she could, she opened it up and felt around for her mirror. She had no idea if her father would be in his room, but it was worth a try.

She left the tent quietly and sat on the bottom step of the stairs that led upstairs to the main floor. It wasn’t long before she was looking into her father’s bedchamber. Her father wasn’t there, but a maid was cleaning the room, and at Wren’s request, the woman left to find the prince.

To Wren’s surprise, it wasn’t her father who first returned to the room, nor was it the maid: it was her grandmother, the queen.

“Wren,” Amalthea murmured, smiling broadly when she saw Wren’s face in the mirror. “It’s so good to hear from you again. You’re late.”

Wren smiled softly. “Sorry, Grandmother. It’s been … rather hectic since I first spoke with Father. A lot has happened since then.” She hesitated, then asked, “How much did Father tell you about what’s been happening?”

“Quite a bit,” the queen replied, “though of course I have no way of knowing whether or not he left anything out.” Suddenly she looked towards the door of the room. “Ah, and here he is,” she smiled. “Ander, your daughter is about to explain why she was late in contacting us again.”

“Good.” Wren heard her father’s reply before she saw him appear next to her grandmother. “Hello, Wren. It’s about time you showed up,” he teased her.

Wren chuckled softly. “Hello, Father. I am sorry not to have contacted you sooner, but … there has been a lot going on here.”

Ander smiled and made himself comfortable. “I hoped that was the case, and that nothing had happened.”

Wren’s smile froze, then faltered; and Ander blinked at her. “Something happened,” he said quietly, seriously. “What is it, Wren?”

Wren hesitated before she murmured, “Well … first of all, you need to understand that I’m perfectly fine. But you have to promise me that what I’m about to tell you will not go further than you two and grandfather. Ninako and Nineko especially can’t know, at least not yet.”

Ander and Amalthea exchanged a glance. “This is serious,” Amalthea murmured, turning back to the mirror. “We will do our best.”

“Thank you.” Wren sighed and rubbed her temples. “We’re in a country called Garnelia, it’s a country of Dark Elves. Lovely country, except that it’s run by a tyrant people just call the General. He usurped the throne … I think it’s been at least two hundred years ago now. We were traveling through … Eärendil was arrested.”

“Arrested?” Amalthea repeated cautiously.

Wren pursed her lips. “Maybe captured is a better word,” she murmured. “He was keeping watch at night, and never came back. Kyrie read the tracks – no struggle, it looks like he went peacefully, but …”

“But you fear the worst anyways.” Ander sighed. “And where are you now? Somewhere safe?”

Wren fidgeted uncomfortably. “Not exactly,” she admitted. “We’re as safe as we can be, but we’re working on a plan to get Eärendil back.”

She didn’t bother mentioning that they were planning on taking care of the General’s presence. She knew they would be worried enough.

“But we’re well hidden, so the chances of them finding us are slim,” she assured them, fully aware she was lying. It was for the best, though. “We’ll be fine, don’t worry. And there are quite a few people with us, we’ve got a lot of allies in this. Just … I think it’s best not to say anything to Ninako or Nineko until it’s over. No sense in worrying them unnecessarily.”

“So you decided to worry us instead,” Ander smiled.

Wren giggled. “Sorry, Father. I couldn’t sleep and I was bored. Besides, as Grandmother said, I was supposed to have contacted you a long time ago.”

She heard a noise from one of the tents, and she lowered her voice. “I’d better go. I think I may have woken someone.” She smiled again. “I love you both. And give my love to Grandfather as well.”

“And you,” Amalthea said warmly.

“Stay safe,” Ander cautioned her. Wren grinned and ended the spell just as the flap of the tent she was sharing with Lancaeriel and Mari was pulled back, and Mari stepped out.

“Wren?” she murmured sleepily. “What are you doing? Isn’t it the middle of the night?”

“Sorry, Mari,” Wren apologized, rising from the step and heading back towards the tent. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just talking with my father.”

A puzzled expression crossed Mari’s face. “Your father?” she repeated softly. “But … isn’t he …”

Wren smiled. “Let’s go back into the tent so that we don’t disturb anyone else,” she murmured. “Lancaeriel will sleep through anything, so we don’t need to worry about waking her. I’ll tell you how it works.”

Mari returned the smile, and Wren led her back into the tent.