The second part of the competition took place in the evening of the next day. There were six finalists from the first round. They surrounded the old tree just outside town, each with a small piece of colored ribbon clutched in their fists.

“Somehow, I don’t trust this.”

“Trust what, Morfindel?” Adurant said.

“This whole thing. I don’t know, I’m just getting a weird feeling about this. I think the Powers are telling me it’s not right. Why now? Why does Hadhod just suddenly decide to marry off his daughter? And why has no one ever seen her?”

“I’m sure you’re just seeing things that aren’t there,” Adurant said. “Another question you could ask could be why are you doubting him now? You’ve never distrusted Hadhod before.”

“I know,” Morfindel said. “He’s an Adani, a man of the Powers, chosen by them to lead the people of Nentathar. To go against him would be to go against the Powers, but I can’t help but feel odd about this.”

Adurant shrugged. “I’ve never trusted him myself. That robe he wears can blind. Surely the Powers disapprove of both green and blue being presented on the same piece of clothing.”

Morfindel shot him a look.

“I’m kidding.”

Morfindel put her arms around him. “And I’m scared for Belegorn. This is not going to end well.”

Adurant returned the embrace. “He’s not going to hurt himself, Morfindel. He’s going to be fine. He’s not a child anymore.”

All at once, the six finalists left the ground and scaled up the tree. A boy Morfindel recognized as Ramar, Belegorn’s friend, nearly reached the first branch before he fell and hit the ground with a dull thud. The red ribbon in his hand fluttered down onto the dirt. Morfindel winced, as if it was Belegorn in Ramar’s place.

But Belegorn kept climbing. Branches whipped at his face, scratching at his cheeks before he could see them. He swiped leaves from his sight with one hand, holding the green ribbon in his mouth.

He heard a loud crack. He grabbed the branch above him and braced himself for the branch below him to fall, but it didn’t. The crack was followed by a rustle of leaves and a short cry and a thud.

Belegorn didn’t waste any time looking back at the boy who fell. A twig scraped his cheek drawing blood, but he climbed on. Finally, he reached the highest branch where he waved his colored ribbon in the air. The whistle blew and the remaining contestants leaped down from the tree.

“He won,” Adurant said, “unharmed. See? I told you it would be fine.”

“It’s not over yet,” Morfindel said.

Hadhod pushed through the crowd to get to Belegorn. “Well done yet again, Belegorn!” he said. “I knew you would make it through.”

The other boys moved away, some sighing, some glaring in Belegorn’s direction.

Belegorn wiped the blood from his cheek. “It was nothing.”

“You’re this close to winning,” Hadhod said. “And I’m sure you will prevail. I am sorry to give away my daughter, but I am glad she is going to someone as able and fine a young man as you are.” Then his face became hard and he put a hand on Belegorn’s shoulder. “That is, if you complete this last part. The last task is the hardest. It will not be as easy as these two.”

Belegorn frowned. “Why? What is the last task?”

Hadhod turned his face south. A line of dark trees marked the horizon. Belegorn then knew what he would say, what the task would be, but kept quiet. He was silent partly because he wanted to hear it from the old man’s mouth, partly because his tongue was twisted from fear.

“You must find the House of Teir En-Daglen. You must find it, and kill the enchantress who lives in it.”

Belegorn had seen it coming, but his shock was multiplied. “What?” he said. “But that’s impossible! No one goes in that forest and lives!”

“It is what the Powers have told me to do. It must be done.”

As the crowds dispersed, Belegorn shrunk against the trunk of the old tree, eyes wide and jaw dangling.

From afar, Morfindel whispered to Adurant, “I told you it was not going to end well.”