Finally, after far too long, chapter one.

I apologise profusely, and thank, all who reviewed and/or followed this. Your support actually means a lot to me, though I may not show it by producing a chapter every few weeks. By the way, thank you so so so much. This makes me happy that someone's actually reading my work ;)

I do not own the Belgariad, Mallorean, or any characters featured in these books. I only own any OCs (introduced in this chapter!) and the plot.

Updated on 17/03/12. Fixed dates.


'What are you doing here?' Belgarath was so surprised that he momentarily forgot he was not alone. He cursed and concentrated.

'Looking around, checking in. I do that from time to time,' replied the Prophecy.

'But why? You haven't said anything for the last thousand years.'

'Because the Codexes didn't say everything. You've grown on me, Belgarath, so I've come to warn you.'

'Who is it?' Poledra asked. She stopped sewing up an old tunic of Belgarath's from where she was sitting near the window, in her chair.

'Prophecy,' Belgarath grunted. 'Apparently he has some more news for us.' He turned inwards again as Poledra resumed sewing. 'Really? What about?'

'This and that. Your survival, Belgarath, obviously. That's what it's been about from the beginning. If you had died somewhere along the line when you were around five hundred years old, everything would have fallen apart. You're still important, old man, and the Universe still needs you to do something.'

'I don't suppose you'd tell me what this "something" is, would you?'

'You know how this works, Belgarath. Even though there isn't something else working against me this time, I'm still not allowed to tell you what's going to happen. I can say, however, is that you'll need the Rivan King again. Tell him to get the Orb and talk around. You're going on another field trip, and it'll be along the same lines as the last two.'

Belgarath groaned. Not again. He was getting too old for this. 'Fine. I'll see what I can do.'

The old man glanced at Poledra before sighing. 'I'm going to Pol's. See you in a day or so.'

She barely looked up as he clambered down the tower's stairs and opened the stone door with a loud grating sound.

Once outside, Belgarath 'went wolf', as he commonly referred to it, and loped steadily in the direction of Polgara's cottage.

It took only a couple of hours to reach a hill that offered a view of the mountains that stood between Tolnedra and the Vale, with a large cottage dotted in the distance. Belgarath panted a bit and ran down to it.

A woman walked out of the cottage as the wolf approached. Her long black hair was touched at the temples with steel grey.

'Well, Old Wolf, what brings you here?' Polgara asked as Belgarath shifted back.

'Business. An old friend decided to show up again for the first time in a thousand years. Can I come in?'

She nodded and turned inside, Belgarath at her heels. 'Where are the others?' he asked.

'Durnik's out collecting wood. You know how he is about things like that. Saya and Sayu are out at the twin's. You also know how they are.'

Saya and Sayu were Durnik and Polgara's children they had after returning to the Vale after the events with Zandramas. Twins seemed to run in the family, and similar names only seemed right. Belgarath got a sense of déjà vu looking at them–it was Beldaran and Polgara all over again. Saya's bright golden hair and sunny smile seemed rather odd to Sayu's monotonous expression and straight black hair. But at least Sayu didn't have the hygiene problems that Polgara developed in her teens.

'But anyway, what's so important that you have to come to me, father?' Polgara sat down and stared at him with her sapphire eyes.

'Prophecy again. It wants me to go get the Rivan King–who is on the throne at the moment, anyway?–and do something.'

Polgara looked as stunned as Belgarath had felt when the Prophecy had first reappeared. 'But why? It goes for this time and then shows up again.'

'That's what's got me confused. According to it, the Codexes didn't say anything. They only foretold up to the end of Zandrama's chapter, and apparently there's more that we need to know.' Belgarath started pacing around the dining room.

'Father, don't do that. You know it doesn't do anything useful. So what are you going to do?'

'Not much for it,' he said unhappily. 'I'll have to go to Riva and pick up whoever can use the orb.'

'Meltan,' Polgara supplied. 'Meltan's currently on the throne, and his son is Alten, who's now five.'

'All right then.' Belgarath stopped pacing. 'I just remembered. What's happened to our Garion?'

'He left the throne in the mid-5470s to his son, and from there remained largely in the background. He's still fine physically; I think he was just tired of command. I think he's currently still studying in the castle.'

Belgarath nodded. 'I'm going to go talk with Durnik. I'll be back for supper.'

'All right, father, just don't be too long. It'll be ready in a few hours.'

He walked out and started searching for the familiar presence of Durnik's mind. He found him off to the east a bit near a clump of trees, and started strolling in that direction.

Durnik, once a simple farm blacksmith, now the Man with Two Lives, was logging trees with a steel axe, despite the fact that he could far more easily have done it with his mind or one of the newly-invented chainsaws. He was a steadfast man, light fuzz growing around his chin, and Aldur's most recent disciple. He was also rather stubborn about doing things with his hands rather than with sorcery.

He was shirtless, his torso gleaming with sweat, and a silver pendant shone around his neck. "Ho, Durnik," Belgarath shouted once within earshot.

Durnik stopped for a few moments to wipe sweat of his face as the tree he was chopping wobbled precariously. "Ho, Belgarath. Fine evening."

Belgarath grunted. "Prophecy showed up again."

Now it was Durnik's turn to look surprised. "Again? What does it want this time?"

"I need to get hold of the Rivan King for something. Being what it is, it was vague, so I don't know what I have to do."

Durnik sighed. "I guess there's no helping it, is there? I'll come with you. If Pol lets me, of course."

"Still having troubles with her?" Belgarath asked slyly. "She's been around me for four thousand years before you came along, and I'm nowhere near making peace with her."

Durnik grimaced. "I still can't quite wrap my head around that one. She's five thousand, and I've got to be over a thousand years old by now. Ordinary men aren't supposed to live that long."

"But Beldurnik," Belgarath exclaimed mockingly, "You're not ordinary. You're one of us."

Durnik sighed again. "Sadly. Anyway, let's head inside after I'm done with this tree. Pol's probably got supper ready."

It took Durnik only another twenty minutes to fell the tree he was working on, then another hour to split it. Afterwards, he managed to convince Belgarath – after a lot of wheedling – to help him carry it back to the cottage.

They were both sweating by the time they walked through the door. Polgara was standing in front of her stove, stirring a steaming pot of something.

"Just in time," was all Pol said before scooping out generous servings of the stew into wooden bowls and passing them to the men with some bread.

They made small talk over supper, Belgarath having said the important news already. They agreed to leave for Riva tomorrow morning, the three of them, and leaving Saya and Sayu with Belkira and Beltira.

They cuahgt up with what they had all done over the last few years, and it wasn't until midnight before Polgara and Durnik decided to retire for the night, leaving Belgarath a mattress in the living room.

Belgarath drifted off to sleep quickly, anxious to get this particular problem sorted out before he lost too much sleep.