As the sun rose in the early spring mist, Trever hopped out of bed and quickly readied himself for the day ahead.  Now, this was no ordinary day, for it was Trever's sixteenth birthday.  Not only that, but the great dragon slayer, Sernonaias of Celdine, would ride through town, returning from his latest victory.
	Who, however, is Trever?  Trever was a common mouseling of the small town Aindell.  Though it was on the most traveled path from Celdine to Beradras, it had always been a small town, with only scattered shoppes and but two inns, one of which, the Billowed Dragon, was the home of Trever and his family, as well as several other mice families.  Though Trever was the runt of the twelve children, he was the most daring of the whole mouse hole.  He ventured from his home, often leaving the Billowed Dragon and scouting (as he called it) about Aindell.  This did not quench Trever's thirst for adventure, but deepened it.  The little mouse had actually gone to the edge of town, where a passing hawk could swoop down and end his escapades, yet he would go as far as his little feet would carry him before his daring gave out.
	But this was Trever's sixteenth birthday, the day that he would come of age and allowed by the elder mice to do whatever his heart desired, no matter how daring (they often called this daring a lack of sense) it would be.  Today was not a daring day for Trever.  It was a day to be full of excitement and wonder, as the whole town, excluding the mouse-peoples, was prepared to celebrate another slain dragon and another victory for Sernonaias.  Banners had been set up and the streets cleaned for the occasion, and Trever was not to miss the sight of a real live dragon slayer.
	Living in an inn had advantages.  From the time that he was born, bards had been coming and going through the Billowed Dragon, telling stories of the great dragon slayers and their adventures.  They told of the marvels to behold and the rewards to be won from a dragon; gold and silver and jewels, forgotten remnants of age old history, and of course fame.  Trever did not care for the silver or jewels or the forgotten history, since such things are useless to mouse-folk.  He only wanted the fame, to be a name that all mice knew.  All the other mice told him that he was touched, and mice should not seek their own death.
	Trever stepped out the back of the inn with a smile as a chill wind blew from the north.  It would be a warm day, but the morning was rather cold still from the past winter.  He trembled in the wind, but Trever was determined to get to the roof of the Billowed Dragon before Sernonaias arrived.  It would prove a tricky climb for the mouse, but he had done it once before, and he remembered the way up the stones.  He scaled a bit at a time, slowly rising off the ground, but with little fear of falling, since his path consisted mostly of mouse width ledges.  He was soon a good six feet off the ground before he took rest.
	He sat near the ledge and looked over, seeing that he made fine progress for the time being.  He did not rest long, and soon he was scrabbling along again.  An hour passed, and Trever was near the top, so he yet again rested.  This time, however, as he sat, his eyes began to droop, and soon he was fast asleep.

	Trever awoke at the call, "Sernonaias has come!  See and hail the great dragon slayer!"  He jumped up quickly, nearly losing his balance and falling off his ledge when he realized that he had fallen asleep.  Climbing to the top of the inn quickly, he saw that he had missed little, but he still cursed himself for sleeping.
	Sernonaias rode through the street on his mighty white horse covered in decorations of red and gold.  The dragons slayer sat straight in the saddle, wearing his gleaming platemail, crafted for him by the finest smith in Celdine.  At his side was the sword given to him by the Elves, enchanted with an emnity of dragons.  The ruby pommel shone in the mid day sun, but that did not compare with the cart driven by oxen just behind the triumphant slayer.  In that cart was his trophy: the dragon's head.  The bard that had brought news of Sernonaias also told that it took two days for the dragon slayer to cut off the head.  Trever did not believe this at first, but now seeing the immense size of the head alone verified the tale.
	Behind the cart came a troupe of men, Sernonaias's followers.  They were stout men that had been chosen by the mighty warrior to follow along.  Quite diverse in their professions, the troupe consisted of two schoppes, who sang songs of the battle, several warriors bearing the standard of a fighting griffon of gold, and a squire that rode on a pony, also bearing the standard of a griffon. The squire also wore a chain shirt under his shirt, and a short sword at his side, which, though it didn't match the craftmanship of Sernonaias's blade, was quite decorative, though it was a true sword, and probably one that would be used in battle.
	Trever watched on in awe as the crowds of people on the side of the street cheered on the slayer's name as he passed.  The parade passed, but Trever found that he could not move his eyes from the Sernonaias.  It was as if some spell had enamored the mouse with the vision of true glory.  He sat on the rooftop of the Billowed dragon watching to the north, in the direction of Sernonaias, for an hour before he finally turned and looked south.
	From the rooftop, Trever could see the farmland to the south clearly.  The wheat had not begun to grow yet this year, so the fields were brown with soil, and the sky was clear and blue, save a tiny speck in the far off distance.  He turned back to look northward, hoping the dragon slayer would return to the town, perhaps stay at the Dragon for a night before he was off.  The streets were now clear, and Trever had a climb yet back to the mouse hole, but when he turned back to the south to begin his descent, he frowned.  That speck had gotten much larger in such a short time with so little wind.  It also seemed to dance about the sky as if it were a winged beast flying northward.  Then it dawned on Trever: It was a winged beast flying northward, straight toward Aindell.  He looked harder at the figure, which was now much closer.
	The watch sounded the alarm.  A villager working at the fields had just run into town screaming and crying.  It seemed that everyone all at once noticed the speck, and their attention was strangely drawn to it.  Now the entire town had come to the same conclusion as Trever:  Dragon.
	It came quickly, swooping low like a hawk, spouting flames and burning the town.  Soon, all was decimated.  The dragon continued north, as if seeking something.  Trever tried to climb down before the attack, but he was not swift enough.  The roof of the inn, his home, caught ablaze and soon collapsed.  Trever was not even half way down, and now he fell.

	Trever awoke to a dark sky of flickering red. He knew not how long he had been out, but he did know that some flames still burnt.  He slowly climbed to his feet, his head throbbing with pain.  Clearing his eyes, he looked about him, seeing what had saved his life from that fall.  He had landed on a chunk of hay from the inn's nearby stable, though now neither of those structures stood.  Most of the stabled animals had fled the burning village, but a few charred corpses of the unlucky beasts lay in the street, along with many burnt cadavers of men and women and children.
	Trever's eyes widened at the sight, then grew wider at the realization that his family had been in the inn before it collapsed.  Scurrying quickly across the burnt stones of the once proud tavern, he prayed that they had escaped the flames.  They had to have gotten out in time, he told himself with little reasurance in his mind.
	He came upon seven mice huddled in a group just beyond the rubble of the Billowed Dragon, non of which belonged to his family.  The eldar, Derani, was among them, as well as Trever's friend Tymothy.  The other mice were not well known to Trever, but he recognized them as family members that he had seen in the hole.
	"Trever!" called Tymothy with glee, though it could not penetrate the deep sorrow in his voice. "You're alive."  Trever rushed forward into the group as all the others looked at him with eyes of sadness.
	"What of my mother and father?  My brothers and sisters?  Where are they?" Trever cried with worry.  None of them spoke for a long time, but this was enough to answer his question.
	"I am sorry, Trever," said Derani, as comforting as the old mouse could.  "They did not escape the blaze.  You are the only one left of your family, as we are all that is left of the hole."  Trever did not want to believe it, but he had no choice.  His eyes began to water greatly, as his mind raced.  He could not stand still, and ran as quickly as he could away from the group, sobbing.  None of the seven took chase.
	He stumbled across the remnants of Aindell as fast as his feet would take him.  His mother and father, his brothers, his sisters, all dead.  What could he do but run?  There was nothing for him.
	Trever tripped over a stone and fell onto the bloodied body of a man.  His limp hand rested against a fallen stone near what must have been the man's sword.  He wore a dented and battered mail of plate and the sword had a ruby pommel.  Sernonaias of Celdine, was dead.
	For a long moment, Trever stood in shock.  Not only had the dragon destroyed his home, but the dragon had slain a great dragon slayer.  He slowly climbed toward the sword, drawn by something that he could not recognize.  All he knew was that he must touch the sword.
	He stood on the stone upon which the sword lay and the hand rested.  Trever gave one more look at the bloody hand before turning to the sword, which seemed to call him.  He stepped forward, reaching out toward the ruby pommel.
	His mind blackened and all fell to silence around him.  He was not asleep, but not awake.  A power seemed to surge through him and a vision of himself came.  He was standing straight, the sword at his side, wearing armor fitted for a mouse.  His name was called again and again.
	"Trever of Aindell," a voice came, clear and loud as the vision faded to blackness. "I am called Mesino Karren, Dragon's Bane.  My master has long been Sernonaias of Celdine, but he has fallen.  I have sensed your hatred of dragons in your heart, and your wish of death to the vile creatures.  Take me up, as your blade.  I long to destroy these beasts as much as you."
	"How can I wield this sword?" Trever asked to the darkness.  "It is made for a man.  It's too large for me."
	"I am a sword of magic, Elven magic, Trever of Aindell.  I can become a blade for a giant or a sword of mice.  Accept my service to slay that dragon.  Take up the sword, Trever.  Take up the quest."  Silence held itself for a long while before Trever spoke again.
	"But I am a mouse, adventure is not for my kind.  What can I gain you?  We are not warriors or adventurers, we are thieves of crumbs."
	"Have you not told yourself different all your life?  This is the time that a mouse shall venture and slay a dragon.  You want more than anything this chance to avenge your family, to destroy the wretched beast that destroyed your home, to adventure and become a hero among mice."  Silence again came, and for a long time reigned.
	All his life, he had wished adventure upon himself.  His chance had now come, but his daring had gone.  Was this truely his adventure, his purpose?  Was the blade mistaken?
	"I shall take you, Mesino Karren!  We shall slay the dragon.  For my mother, my father, my brothers and sisters.  For all the mice and men and all those that lost their lives or loved one.  For Sernonaias of Celdine, I take you!"
	The blackness lifted from Trever's eyes.  He found that he was now holding the blade skyward as rain fell, dousing the flames.  The sword gleamed in the dark, and the ruby pommel sparkled with satisfaction.
	Trever jumped down to Sernonaias's side.  He cut a strip off the fallen dragon slayer's belt, then cut a portion of cloth from his shirt.  He threw the cloth over his head and nawed a hole there, and wrapped the leather strip around his midsection, tying it securely.  He then fashioned himself another strip of leather, thicker in the middle, as a shoulder sash for which told carry Mesino Karren.  He now felt as a warrior, wearing the tunic and sword of a dragon slayer.
	He began back toward the seven survivors of the blaze with a determination he had never once had.  Trever again came upon them, now searching through the rubble for any food, as mice do not farm for themselves, and without humans to feed them, times would be difficult.  They did not notice Trever until he stepped through a puddle.
	"Now is not the time to play, Trever," called Derani through the rain.  "We eight seem to be the only survivors of the dragon's wrath, and we have no food nor home."
	"I know that as well as any mouse here, Derani, but I do believe it is the time of vengence."  The other mice now stared at him blankly or discontented or disbelief.
	"Trev, come now.  We know you have lost much," said Tymothy as he came toward his friend.  "You are but a mouse, what could you do against a dragon?  And what of us?  Would you just go off in search of your own death and leave us hear to fend against all else?"
	"You don't understand, Tymm.  I must take up this quest.  As for the dragon," Trever said while he pulled the sword from his back, "Mesino Karren shall have a word in that."  The others now looked at him in shock.
	"A sword of mouse size?  And such a small gem?  Where did you come by this treasure, young one, and how know you Elven?" said Derani, who was quite interested in the blade.  "I never taught you Elven tongue, nor any other by my recollection."
	"I was told the words by this sword, and I did not know that was Elven," said Trever.
	"You have a sword, and you have a will, what else would you need to harm a dragon, let alone slay one," Tymothy said.  "I think that you should give up this foolishness, at least for the moment, so that we may decide what to do in order for the eight of us to live on until our right time."
	"Tymothy is right, Trever.  However, before we set to this task, allow me to observe this blade, Mesino Karren as you call it, more closely," said Derani.  Trever handed over to the old mouse the sword.  He held it close to his nose, peering at it as though it may be an illusion.  He would occasionally humph or gasp, but for the most part he was silent, and, finally, he spoke again.
	"It seems that this is an Elven blade, indeed, as it is of their craftmanship and name.  Mesino Karren, or in common tongue Dragon's Bane, has been inscribed with mystic runes of power.  It seems to me that it now thirsts for the blood of dragons.
	"But now we must to other concerns, mainly what it is we must do.  It is my conclusion that we should not stay here, as it will be quite a time before any human rebuilds these structures.  This town is lost, and many seasons shall pass before it is again a town.  We should then seek to find a new home in another village.  I believe, though I am no longer quite sure, that to the south lies the city Barren Col, which is nearer than the northern town of Celdine.
	"Both Celdine and Barren Col are several days journey by man, and at least a moon's travel for us mice, as I am an old mouse and not a swift as days of my youth.  There shall be peril, as hawks fly in the sky and wolves patrol the grounds between Aindell ruins and Barren Col.  We may be capable of seeking the aid of the shrew, or field mice you may know them.  I believe that we shall reach Barren Col with all our party if we travel carefully.
	"Trever, you and Mesino Karren shall be of great value to us, no matter how much thirst you two have of dragon's blood.  We shall require you both if we are attacked, and perhaps you will be of no need other than companionship along the way, but I still ask hopefully that you shall come, if we even take this course of action.  What say you all?  Shall we go to Barren Col as one, or shall we not?"
	There was little debate upon the matter, as Derani was indeed a wise mouse, and that there were no better plans among the eight.  Trever, too, decided it was best to head south.  A feeling in his gut told him so, but also he wanted to see all that remained of his life here safely arrive whever their new home was to be.  The dragon had also come from the south, so that if he did indeed head on as he told Mesino Karren he would, he should be nearer his goal.
	"Then we shall leave in the morning," said Derani.  "We should find some shelter here for tonight, to help against the rain, and in the morning we shall gather what food is left that we could carry along the way to Barren Col."
	The group found enough bits of shelter to shield against the spring rain.  Trever lay down, thinking of his family.  His mother, his father, brothers and sisters.  They wouldn't be there the next morning.  It made him sad, yet filled him with hope somehow.  Just before he fell asleep, he heard them in his mind wishing him a happy birthday.

	The next morning was foggy and cool.  A chirping bird gently awakened Trever, and he slowly opened his eyes to find that he was staring directly at another pair of eyes.  Shocked, he stumbled backward, reaching for his sword.
	"Now there not be any needin' for that,"  said the shrew behind the eyes.  Trever, stopped, but still kept a cautious eye, for he knew little about shrew-folk.  "You ain't trusting me, eh?  Well, name's Welliam, son of Walliam,"  he continued extending his paw.  Trever took it and shook.
	"Trever, of Aindell ruins.  What brings you here, Welliam?"
	"Well, I been curious about this here place since that dragon came a'swooping down and burnin' everything, but if there be anything a shrew fear more than a hawk, it be a nasty owl.  They's every bit as deadly as a hawk, and they come at the night time so ye doesn't see any shadows.  They be more quiet, too."
	"What is this?" Derani said as he came over a bit of rubble.  "A shrew and a mouse talking of owls and hawks and dragons?" He turned his attention then to the shrew.  "I am Derani, only surviving elder mouse of the Billowed Dragon."
	"Pleasure and honor it be, sir," said Welliam with a bow.  "Seems to me that you and any others not gonna be staying here for much longer, with the way this here town looks."
	"Right you are, good shrew," said Derani.  "We have come to a decision to leave Aindell ruins and head south, toward Barren Col.  If there is any aid you could offer us, we would be most thankful."
	"Of course there be aid we shrew could lend ye.  Just come along with me, not far to me home," the shrew said with a grin.
	"Thank you, friend.  Trever, go rouse the others," said Derani.

	Doing as asked, Trever woke the others quickly and retold of the shrew to each of them in turn. He disturbed Tymothy last.
	"A shrew, eh? Lucky for us, now isn't it, Trev?" he said with a groggy grin. All seven soon returned to Derani and Welliam, who had not moved, but were deep in discussion.
	"Now ye don't say?" said Welliam. "Mice on the move and a magic sword? Ha! What's to be next? Rabbits a' running on a rainy day?" At this he gave a good and hardy laugh.
	"You should not poke fun at our plight, Welliam. All I have told you is true," Derani said.
	"Ye be misunder' a' standing me now, sir. I mean no harms or funny pokes, just it be something kinda odd where us shrews is from. And I believes ye, too. I seen the sword me-self. That one in the red tunic you be calling Trever almost drew it and a' cut me in twos! He ain't be that fond of how I wakes him up." Welliam laughed again.
	"You didn't tell us about that, Trev," Tymothy said jokingly. Derani took notice of them then.
	"Ah, excellent! You're all awake and well, I see," said Derani. "Allow me to introduce you to Welliam, son of Walliam."
	"Pleasure to be meeting ye all," said Welliam with a bow. The others nodded in return.
	"Yes, well," Derani continued, "as was concluded yesternight, we shall travel to Barren Col. Welliam has graciously offered our company welcome into his home village, which he calls Fara Dollen."
	"Fara Dollen, my, what a home! Ye'll never believe yourself a word out of my shrew mouth about that there village," said the smiling shrew. "No day never passed in the last four generations that we had to be a' worrying about finding food! The stream that be running by me home! That be the coolest, clearest, cleanest water ye'll ever be drinking in your life!" Derani waited a moment before again speaking.
	"Aye, Fara Dollen has been said by many-a-shrew and mouse to own the greatest water stream known to all mouse-kind. However, we shall not over live our stay there and shall move along to Barren Col, hopefully with a shrew guide and Trever's blade. Another hope of mine is that Trever will learn how to use such a weapon."
	"Why, us shrews will teach him!" Welliam said with a wide smile. All the mice looked at him blankly. "What? You never heard of the shrew warriors? Ye's got to remember that us shrew be much more of trouble makers than ye mice. Some of the crazy ones have tried a' hunting hawks!" The mice continued to stare without a word. "You doesn't believe me, eh? When ye gets to Fara Dollen, bless her heart," he said with all sincerity, "you'll see what I be meaning."
	"Speaking of Fara Dollen, shouldn't we head out," said Trever. "We have several miles to go, if I'm not mistaken, and I have a dragon to slay." Everyone laughed at Trever except the shrew.
	"A dragon ye say?" Welliam said. "You be meaning the one that comes and torched your home and killed ye family, that big one? I be lying at ye if I said to you 'Hey, ye's gotta be outta yer mousy mind!' I say that the other seven gots to be crazy." The laughing stopped when they realized that both were serious. "A family is something to die for a' trying to avenge, and if any o' these mouses ain't going with ye, I be a hawk's dinner if I not fight with ye."
	They all stood, silently looking at each other, wondering of these claims. Finally, Trever spoke up.
	"Thank you, Welliam, son of Walliam. As of yet, you better have a sharp blade over in Fara Dollen. Shall we go?"
	"Aye, we shall go to Fara Dollen," said Derani. "And onward toward Barren Col."
	This is how they began their march toward the shrew village. Trever and Welliam walked in front of the party, followed closely by Tymothy and Derani, though Derani's age soon left him at the flank of the group. They travelled mostly a little away from the path of men and stayed under the high grass. Welliam and Trever talked much about Fara Dollen, and Tymothy would occasionally join in the conversation.
	"You mentioned some sort of warriors back in the ruins, Welliam," said Tymothy. "What did you mean exactly?"
	"Well, I meant whats I said. There be some shrew that a' guard the rest from them nasty beasties like hawks and owls."
	"No no no. What equipment do they have? That's what I want to know."
	"Oh, they's got some sharp, pointy sticks that we be using like them Men use swords and spearses. We also gots us some fey-bows and quivers and arrows." Welliam said with a grin as he passed under a white dandelion. Stopping for a moment, he grabbed the stem and gave a good shake, letting the seeds fly away in the slight breeze.
	"Why'd you do that, Welliam?" asked Trever as they started moving again.
	"It be a fun thing to be doing, Trever," he said. "That be the problem with ye mice. You just doesn't do anything for fun, but ye are surprising if you be wanting to be. I was expecting ye to ask me just what a fey-bow be and hows we shrew came into aquiring us a few."
	"That was my next question," Tymothy said.
	"Well, they be bows that them fairies made, and we be good friends to thems."
	"Your friends with the fairies?" Trever said. "I never knew that the shrew were friends of the forest-folk." There was a short moment before Trever realized what that meant. "Does that mean that Fara Dollen is in the Dek Wood?" The shrew nodded.
	"Ye betchya! Them trees be great and cool, and there lives quite a numbers of good folk in that there Wood. The fairies and fey and such."
	"No, that's not what I meant," said Trever.  "You said earlier that it was not far to your home.  If Fara Dollen is in the Dek Wood, that has to be at least two days journey as the mouse walks."
	"Aye, me friend," the shrew said with a wide grin. "I not be lying to ya ealier, and ye're right about the two days o' journeyin'.  But ye see, we shrews be friends with them rabbits.  They even give us a great way to be a-gettin' around.  Ah!  There be one of them right ahead."  Sure enough, a rabbit came bounding through the tall grass toward the mice.  Stopping suddenly, the rabbit grinned as he noticed Welliam.  His brown coat fluffed a bit as a cool breeze came through the grass.
	"I see you're not up to your usual antics, eh Welly?"  The rabbit said quickly.
	"Yep!  I be findin' meeces that need to get to Barren Col, but they's going to stop at Fara Dollen for a rest, y'see."
	"Ah, well, hurry on now.  I'll rush on ahead and get the others."  With that, the rabbit hopped off quickly, back the way he came.