Last time with Tribba and Edgar, a little piece of Tribba’s past was revealed as werewolves came out during a storm. If this is your first time reading, you can find the first 7 parts by clicking The Elven Games in the tags at the bottom of this post.
Tribba smiled at Edgar. She’d decided when she first asked him to champion her that if he lost, she and Larss would be okay. Yes, they would lose their home, their little farm, and the way of life they were used to, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. They’d still have each other and whatever fresh life the Dwarven Council decided for them. She was almost looking forward to a new adventure. She did believe in Edgar, however, so she set those thoughts aside. Edgar’s appearance was a sweet serendipity and she had every intention to make the most of it, even if that only meant boosting his self-esteem. She was okay with that, too. She hated the elves with the same passion the rest of her breed had, but the wisdom of age told her there was more to life; that sometimes by helping another, you end up helping yourself.
Tribba stood on tiptoe and placed a hand on the each side of Edgar’s face. She looked him in the eyes long enough to read his soul. She hoped he saw the sincerity inside hers. “Edgar, your past means nothing here. Heroes are born, not made, and you are destined to be a hero. Whether it’s now in this time and in this place or later down the road makes no difference.” She moved her hands from his face to his hands, clasping them tightly. This is meant to be. You are here because you are my champion, and I am here because you need someone to inspire you.”
Edgar squeezed her hands before dropping them. He started to turn away from her, and then stopped. “My dear Tribba, I only hope that someday I will have half as much faith in myself that you do now. I promised you I would do this, and I will. I will give to it more than I ever have before. If I should fail, I will at least know I did my best.”
Larss patted Edgar’s arm. “Your best is all we ask for.”
Vicious snarls coming from just beyond the window paused the conversation. Larss looked at Tribba who was shaking uncontrollably. He moved swiftly to her side, enveloping her once more within the safety of his embrace.
“Turn the lamp up,” Larss ordered Edgar. Edgar did so without complaint. “Now grab that yellowed book on the second shelf behind you.”
Edgar turned around to see a rainbow collection of books stacked neatly on three shelves, which had been built into the wall. He found the yellowed book lodged between a fiery red one and a fawn brown one. He pulled it out and glanced at the cover. Spells for Strange Occasions was written on the cover. Before he could investigate, Larss snatched it from his hand. Edgar looked at him in confusion.
“We dwarves have our own magic,” he explained. “I am not skilled, but with this book, I do all right. Books are not allowed during the Elven Games, unfortunately. I could use your help, however. Come, stand with us, and…” he flipped through the book rapidly until he found the page he was looking for. The title at the top of the page read Dispelling Werewolves. “…read this aloud with us.”
Three voices chanted together. Six arms rose in unison as their voices increased in volume. Six eyelids closed as three minds cleared and their hands joined to form a circle. The energy in the air crackled like heat lightning on a dry evening. The snarling outside the window grew louder, as if it were in the same room, until it stopped, snuffed out like a candle caught in a summer breeze. The chanting faded to a whisper until only their lips moved, the words falling into silence.
“Are they gone?”
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