Chương 5: Finding the Courage and Beginning to Believe in One's Self

After leaving the library with the book about our elven history, my parents and I retraced our steps and made our way back to the tree where our home sat at the very top. The towering spiral staircase loomed ahead as we approached.

Just before reaching the base of the stairs, my father gently placed me down on the ground, which puzzled me. I looked up at him and raised my arms expectantly, wanting him to carry me up again.

But instead of lifting me, he put a delicate hand on my head, smiling warmly. "Time for you to climb those stairs yourself."

Hearing that, I shook my head and closed my eyes as I kept my arms raised. I refused to take a step on those stairs, afraid of tumbling down to my death.

But rather than giving in to my silent plea, I felt both of my hands being grasped. Opening my eyes, I saw my parents holding onto me.

"It's okay, Frieren," my mother reassured gently. "We know you can make it up there."

No, I can't. I'm scared of stairs. I hate them.

"Don't worry, little one," my father added. "You just have to be brave for us."

Brave. That word stirred something in me. I recall promising to be brave after I died, but now? I wasn't so sure.

As I stood there, hesitant and uncertain, they tightened their grip on my hands.

"There's no need to fear," Mother comforted me.

Father nodded, concurring with her words. "She's right. We won't let you go."

I glanced down at the first step, feeling the weight of their words. The dread hadn't vanished, but with their hands holding firmly, I took a deep breath and raised my foot toward the stairs.

Shaky and uncertain, I placed my foot on the first step. Then the second, and third.

One step at a time.

With each step, my legs trembled, but my parents' grips never faltered. Though the staircase seemed endless, something inside me began to shift. For the first time, I felt like maybe—just maybe—I could bravely climb to the top.

I glanced at my parents. They looked back at me with nothing but patience and pride, as if they knew I could do it all along.

As the climb continued, a tiny seed of faith started to sprout in my heart. Maybe being brave wasn't about being fearless. Maybe it was about taking that first step, even when the fear is still there.

Step by step, we climbed higher to our home.

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Once we reached the top of the staircase, I let out a deep sigh of relief, pleased to know that the whole ordeal was finally behind me. My parents, however, shared amused glances before chuckling at my surprising reaction.

Father ruffled my hair gently. "See? I knew you were brave enough to climb these stairs."

"He's right," Mother approved, smiling warmly. "We believed you could do it."

I puffed out my cheeks, still feeling a bit flustered, but deep down, I couldn't deny that sense of victory swelling inside. Maybe they were right—I could perhaps do more than I thought.

After our little moment of celebration, we headed inside our home. Greeted by its acquainted comfort, the warm glow of lanterns lighting up the cozy space.

My father placed the borrowed book on the dining table, and I found myself already drawn to it, eager to know more about our history.

"Do you want us to continue reading, Frieren?" my mother asked, noticing my interest.

I turned to her and nodded, pointing at the book to convey my desire to hear more histories.

"Shouldn't you take a little break?" my father pointed out, "After all, we just arrived home."

Though part of me was still tired from the climb, my curiosity drove me otherwise. I shook my head, insisting they should read the book. Both of my parents exchanged concerned glances before returning to me.

"Alright then," my mother conceded with a gentle smile. "But just for a short while, okay? We still have dinner to eat after this."

I nodded quickly, wanting to get back to the story as soon as possible.

Father chuckled wearily. "You're obsessed with that book, aren't you, Frieren?"

It was true—I couldn't get enough of it. The stories inside seemed to unveil events that were so close, yet still hidden from me.

Afterward, we settled into the same routine as earlier. my mother sat down and placed me on her lap, while my father took his seat beside us.

Mother opened the book once more, flipping through the pages until she found where we left off last time and began to read aloud.

"As mentioned before, after the elves were driven away by humans and sought refuge in the forests, they adapted to their new environment. They created not only homes and livelihood for their people but also magic."

Ah yes, magic—the foundation of every fantasy story.

"Aurelius, one of the progenitors of our race, communicated with the spirits of the forest and harnessed their elements to develop different forms of magic—specifically earth, water, and wind magic."

The name Aurelius echoed in my mind, carrying a weight I couldn't quite place yet. The way my mother spoke of this individual made him sound almost mythical as if his legacy shaped everything about who we were as elves.

Creak...

Before Mother could continue reading, the front door swung open and Grandfather entered, looking exhausted and sleepy as he trudged in.

"I'm home... Oh? What are you three—"

He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the book we were holding.

Seeing his reaction, I felt a sense of unease.

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Uncertainty filled the room as my parents and I exchanged glances with the old elf who was standing before us. His expression was hard to read, but I didn't sense any malice from him—just something stern, and maybe a little concerned.

"You two," he began firmly, "where did you get that book?"

Mother swallowed nervously, her hesitation apparent. "We got it from the library, Father."

"The library?" Grandfather repeated, his skepticism growing. "I was under the impression the archivist doesn't allow anyone to remove literature from there."

"But Miss Serie did give us her permission to borrow the book for our daughter," my father explained calmly.

Grandfather's gaze shifted to me, and I felt my chest tighten under his scrutiny, and my heart pounding as his stern look settled on me.

He let out a weary sigh before talking again. "You must be careful with that book. It contains knowledge not meant for children like Frieren, but I suppose it can't be helped now."

I clutched my mother's sleeve, feeling a little bit relieved by the delicate shift in Grandfather's tone. Luckily, there was no further reprimand, only a warning.

With the tense conversation behind us, my parents decided to conclude our reading session for the moment and began preparing dinner. Meanwhile, Grandfather strode over to his usual rocking chair and sat down with a resigned sigh.

After a moment, his eyes then drifted toward me, still clutching the book in my hands.

"Come here, little one," he called out, attempting to sound easygoing.

I hesitated, unconfident of what might come next, but ultimately, I gathered the courage and approached him, hoping I wouldn't be scolded.

As I approached, he leaned forward, eyeing the book once again.

"You truly want to learn, don't you?" he asked, his tone becoming gentler.

I nodded slowly, gripping the book tighter. Something about his words stirred a new sense of curiosity within me. He was rather old, so surely he knew more than anyone in the village.

He observed me for a moment before settling back into his chair. "In that case, let me tell you something you can't find any book."

Hearing this, I plopped myself to the floor, eager to listen to his stories. Grandfather adjusted himself in the chair, his tired eyes brightening as he began to speak.

"Long ago, there was a young mage who wasn't sure of their abilities. Everyone around them doubted whether they'd ever learn magic or truly become something greater."

I listened intently, feeling curious about the identity of the mage.

"But you see," Grandfather continued speaking, "it wasn't strength or talent that made them succeed. No, it was the belief in one's self. Every mage, warrior, and leader started with that one thing."

Belief, huh? I wasn't sure if it was all it took to succeed. But if Grandfather said so, maybe it was worth considering.

"Even when doubt shrouded them, they kept going because they believed they could. And in the end, others began to follow their example, believing in themselves as well."

His words sank in, and I found myself reminiscing on the staircase I had just climbed and the bravery I'd felt. Perhaps belief was the key all along.

He looked down at me, his expression unwinding further as he spoke quietly.

"Remember, Frieren—when you grow up and encounter challenges, don't forget to believe in yourself and you will succeed just like the mage in the story."

As he finished, a quiet understanding took hold of me, and I felt a little more inspired.

"Father, Frieren, dinner is ready," my mother called from the kitchen.

Grandfather stood from his chair and smiled. "Shall we?"

I nodded and got on my feet, following him to the dining table.