#anywhere

In the captain's quarters on the Kestrel, Brekke takes a seat in her chair, Speaker in hand. She exhales slowly, looking at the weapon she has had for so long, her first mentor, really...."And perhaps you have more lessons for me yet."

And she begins her casting....

This is not the seat of her power, her hold, and yet- she did not lie to her daughter when she spoke of her own connection with the Kestrel. Her wish for a ship of her own roaring in her blood- she loves the woods, but a ship of her own on top of it? A rare indulgence. So perhaps that is why, aside from perhaps the balefire itself, this place has always worked well for her magics.

"Níðhöggr...Jörmungandr...Fáfnir...Frotho's foe...and now Skallstryke....speak to me, old friend, of the fearsome winged ones, the fire-breathing ones, the hoarders of treasure and the nightmares from the skies....speak to me, and tell me what I must know...."

This place also has the privacy, the intimacy, that she can seldom find by the Balefire, surrounded as she is by childlings and wilders and family and friends...it is home, it is comfort...but sometimes one needs a quiet space for a working.

In the old tongue it speaks back, "Grave tidings you bear, and grave the subject. You remember that flash of the dragon's destruction in your past life. I regret I cannot smash painful memories to dust for you"

She shakes her head. "I need their pain. Their pain hardens my resolve. Old friend...is it possible you might be bane for this foe? Might you be one of the weapons we need?"

Brekke draws a deep breath. "That...gives me great hope. My friend...we will have a great working before us. I need you. And my companions will need others. Do you know of more?"

She shakes her head. "I will not. I cannot. I must not. Tell me the names."

"_ Ascalon.... wielded by Alibon's favored Son. Mjolinir, hammer of the Thunder God destined to slay the world serpent, Gram, slayer of Fafnir of the blood of the very wyrm you wish dead. Tiamat's End, wieled by Marduk ..._

Brekke listens, commits the names to memory. Some of them she knows already, famed in legend.

"Lesser known but known to me, Dragonslicer fashioned by mortal dreamer for that one purpose, Ailil's Woe- Held by a Gwydion lord, and Witherwyrm"

"Seven, then, to seek. And there is you. My old friend....thank you. Hearing you again...it is a comfort."

"I am at times ill named I suppose, am I not , no longer so little one?" A chuckle not unlike Vegard's old soft laughs "Perhaps we will talk again"

A troubled frown and nod at that.

"I would not tax you, not with so great a work ahead of us...but it would please me, yes."

And a bit of a grin at the chuckle.

"Then, with another conversation awaiting between us, we both have something to live for after we slay the damnable wyrm. Rest well, my wielder, and know it is not just the young who have faith in thee"

A fond grin and a nod. "You also, my friend, my teacher. And thank you."

And Speaker quiets... slumbering anew until needed.

And Brekke sits quietly, regarding the now-still weapon in her hands, and pondering the things it said.

(End scene)