The morning sun crept over the hills, slowly filling the canyons and valleys with light. Danta let out a soft low whistle and waited. Hearing a birds morning song, he looked to the top of the tree next to him and acknowledged the bird quietly, "Good morning, I haven't seen you in a while. Your brothers have been around making a big fuss. Have you been hiding lately?" As he spoke, he heard the slow movements of the beast as it lumbered up the hill.

"Well hurry up, I can't wait all day. You've been sleeping all night, but I need my rest." The beast ignored him as it maintained the same pace, then slowly lowered itself to the ground.

Danta pulled himself up to the back and strapped himself to the saddle. The beast then rose gently to her feet. As The beast moved slowly down the hill it walked as smoothly as it could, taking in all of the jars of the ride in its supple legs. Even then, it was still painful to Danta. Danta couldn't rise to his own feet, but he danced upon the hills, and soared among the clouds. His mind was his only narcotic to ease his suffering. As the long ride neared its end Danta could see the grass roof of his cottage. After two hours sleep, he would be ready to start his real work. His night out with the sheep had given him time to think and plan.

Dorin stared into the foggy blackness, intent on some distant object. After several minutes, he relaxed and sat down below the crest of the rise. Stirring the fire up from a gentle glow he began to sing. His singing was soft and melodious. It mellowed into the mist surrounding the hill.

Elon noticed the rise in light just above the next hill. He was glad that someone was waiting. His stomach was glad.

"Dorin, do you have something to warm my hands, my heart?" Elon asked as he peeked over the rise.

"How did you know it was me, I had my back to you?" asked Dorin.

Elon smiled, "It was your bad singing."

"Bad singing? Everyone knows I have the best voice on the mountain.

"Best voice? You mean loudest voice. And with so many bad ears listening, you get a reputation. They don't know the difference." Knowing he had him, Elon started on a new tack. "And what about you sitting with your back to the ridge?"

Dorin grinned, "I saw you coming, a good twenty minutes away, walking without a care in the world."

"Well I guess you have me there. How could you see me so far away, in the dark and the fog?" Elon asked.

Remember, I'm a shepherd, that's why I'm a night lookout. you're only a poet, not trained for what you see."

Elon laughed, "You're wrong, I'm trained to look even further than you, as far as peoples hearts."

"Okay you win. Now take a drink, warm yourself. Tell me what you learned." said Dorin as he poured a cup for Elon.

Elon sat at his cup in silence for quite a while before he spoke. Dorin sat patiently and waited.

"Our suspicions are correct." Elon said finally, "They don't seem to be very ready, or very impatient about doing it in the near future, but it is still inevitable."

Dorin sat back and sucked in his breath. He waited a moment, staring into the darkness. "Do we have any time frame?"

"Between six months, or one year."

"Well, we should tell the King." said Dorin, "After we break camp we'll spread the news, and then meet with the King." They both sat and warmed their hands as they stared into the starry night.

Elon stood before the small hut with apprehension. After pacing for a few moments he slowly entered.

"Get off your knees young man." came a voice from the hut, "And don't call me 'your majesty.' I'm Rylar, a shepherd."

"Well, sire…"

"Rylar!"

"Rylar, sire, I was told to tell you that Kolan would be here in the morning, and that we are arranging to have all of the elders here by noon, sire."

"Rylar, young man," said the King, "and would you be so kind as to go to the hut by the creek to see if it would be an inconvenience to have enough food prepared, and tell my sons that I won't be taking my shift with the sheep tonight. Now go, and make yourself at home. I will be here alone thinking."

Rylar stood in the doorway watching as the sun sank. He then turned into his hut. He lit his lamp and set it on a low flame. Pouring some hot water into a cup, he muttered to himself, "The time has come. "Slowly he dipped his tea ball into the cup, watching the bubbles escape.

Through the night he alternately sat in his small couch, and paced the short length of his one room hut. At first he dwelt on the issue at hand, but as that gradually tired him, his mind began to drift back to his past. He hadn't thought about his past for quite awhile, it was too painful. His lovely Katrin, her beauty, her wit, her intelligence. All of the memories flooded into his mind. How he wished she were here now. How could he make such heavy decisions without her. Rylar shook. He had to stop thinking about her for now. As he watched the flames dance across the logs and he drew the covers over his mind.

Kolon, Rylar didn't know what to make of him. Kolon was such a big man. He also had such a dominating personality. He was not anyone's idea of a poet. Of course Kolon did write well, though not as well as other masters; but then, his writing wasn't his greatest asset. Kolon was a great teacher. He was also a great judge of people, both a judge of their character, and of their potential as a poet. Kolon seemed a good choice as a man to study the valley people.

One thing that did disturb Rylar, though, was whether Kolon was loyal to all of the ways of the mountain. Kolon's writing didn't show it, he had some strange ideas. His desire to get the people of the mountain involved in competitive athletic games still bothered Rylar. It seemed to be making the People too aggressive, but the elders agreed to the games.

The People seemed to be moving so far from the old ways. Rylar knew the old ways were right, but was he holding back progress? Rylar remembered his father saying to him, 'My son, you have a special touch upon the land. I chose well to have you rule above your brothers. Yours will be a gentle reign.' Rylar always doubted the statement. He never felt that he was quite as good as his father. Rylar had to think some more, about Kolon, and the change from the valley.