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Waking slowly, he wiped his eyes and looked around. It was early morning, and Nellin was sitting by the fire facing east into the sun. The mysterious woman was still asleep on the ground a few feet away, and the remains of the fire were only sputterings of their former fiery glory. Yawning widely, Beldor stretched out and discovered with a start that he once again had forgotten to remove his armor before sleeping.

"Dammit." he mumbled, cursing his forgetfulness. Rubbing his head, he wondered if it was all really just a dream, whether he was so tired that his mind conjured up the illusion of an aspect of Chronepsis to speak to him. Yawning again, he lurched forward to his feet, only to fall back again. There in front of him was the sword that had been given him, it's length gleaming like fire in the morning sun. The carving of the dragon upon its hilt seemed to writhe in the glow of the morning, as if waiting for him to take it in his hand. Rising once again, he reached out to the sword and grasped the pommel of the blade, pulling it closer. Wrapping his hand around the hilt, he lifted it up into the light to better examine it. The size of an ordinary longsword, normal it was not. It was a glorious blade, wrought of dragon's gold and made by the greatest of master craftsmen. The ghost of a flame seemed to flicker along it's length, as if waiting for his command to spring into life and flame. It seemed somehow familiar, as if he had possessed it for quite some time. Reaching for his old longswrod, he found nothing in the scabbard but air. Nellin, looking across the fire's remains, caught his confused and searching look.

"Aye, lad, your old sword is gone. I found that 'un in your scabbard this morning, sittin' in it all snug and comfy, like that was where it always rested." He paused for a second, taking a long drag on a heretofore unseen pipe held in his child-sized hand. "Mebbe it was fate. Mebbe the gods have favored ye. They took your old blade and remade it into somethin' legendary. I'd take it as a good sign and move on, if'n I were you." Blowing out a long stream of smoke, he stood up and kicked dirt on what remained of last night's fire. "Come on, wake up sleepin' beauty. It's about time we got moving, dont'cha think? Usually it's you who's ready and rarin' to go. Something must've come upon ye last night, huh?" Giving him a deep look, Beldor just shook his head and sheathed the sword and strapped the scabbard on his hip, rising to wake the still-sleeping woman. Today was looking to be... eventful, at the least.