Trials of the other Realm
The velvet robed tiny one stood next to Trevor and explained what had happened in the years following his departure from the magic realm of Aelolaein.

"The first few years were peaceful and it seemed that all evil had gone from the lands. The forest creatures were enjoying a stress free environment, the water spirits had lain themselves to rest and even the spirits of ice and fire had ceased their endless conflict over the lands' dominion.

But somewhere in the 20 years that Trevor had gone, something began to stir the earth itself. Tales came of a great beast that dug holes and swallowed villages whole. Then, out of nowhere, a mountain sprouted much like a plant would. It was a pure red mountain with a silver castle on its peak and from the castle doors came a human figure. He was dressed in black robes and wore a crimson cloak. This was Dearalnaegon, bringer of the ebon plague. His word, much like his plague, spread like wildfire amongst the spirits of the earth.

It wasn't long before the 5 elemental rulers were forced to watch their earth brother collapse under the plague. With the collapse of the earthen element, stability within the realm had been lost and with it the hopes of 2 more elemental rulers to resist the evil power that was Dearalnaegon."

Trevor's first trial would be to stop the plague from spreading to the remaining 2 elemental rulers. But first, he'd have to regain his former strength.

Trevor stood in awe of the tale and couldn't shake the feeling of disbelief at the claims that he would be the one to stop the greatest evil the realm had ever known. But somewhere in his old mind lay the proof of this ability. Somewhere in his mind were the memories of how he'd stopped the former evil ruler of the fire mountains. Memories which the shaman of the village would have him regain.

The shaman gathered in front of their pool of visions and engaged in a ritual chanting. All the while preparing something that, to Trevor, looked like either soup or tea. Though he couldn't quite tell which it would become. With a sudden flash of orange light, the shaman silenced the village and then beckoned Trevor to drink of their seemingly toxic mixture.

"Visions to direct you," the shaman started "visions that will guide you from your past.......to your future."

Trevor stared at the shaman until he presented Trevor with the cup. Trevor nodded and drank the cup with little hesitation. After drinking the potion, Trevor saw nothing. But as the first signs of light began to break through the darkness, he examined his surroundings, only to find that he was in the sorcerer's tower of his old mentor. The stranger thing was though, he could see himself sitting at the desk 32 years younger than he was now.

Stunned by surprise, Trevor gazed at the scene as it showed him how he was taught to use magic. Never for personal pleasure, but always in defense of the realm. And after the teachings were over, the grand magus would send Trevor home.

"Byd!" The magus yelled, thus teleporting Trevor to his home in the human realm.

Trevor then remembered how his roommate would come in soon after he'd returned. Always with the same surprised look, and always with the same inquiry of where he'd gone all this time. Trevor would tell him he'd been working on some research. Research into the occult. And he was getting closer to the conclusion of it.

This, of course, was a lie. But Trevor could hardly tell his human companion he was learning the ways of magic so that one day he may fulfill his destiny. He'd be ridiculed endlessly, and maybe even be locked up in a mental institution. A place, or so he'd heard, that could drive a perfectly normal person insane. The very last thing Trevor ever wanted for himself was insanity.

The memories of those years, slowly made their way back into Trevor's consciousness. So the vision took him to his inauguration as guardian of the grove. A time in which Trevor was very much alone in his arduous tasks and formalities. As he saw his younger self's spirit break, he wanted to intervene. But of course, the vision wouldn't let him. He was to observe and learn, nothing more. Until his full memory had returned.

Trevor re-lived every feeling, both positive and negative, as he watched himself struggle with the enormously difficult task of keeping the grove's inhabitants safe and informed. He even got to experience the pain as he nearly lost the battle against the imps during their invasion. But he stood tall and endured it, for the knowledge contained within the memories was too precious for him to give up now.

As he watched that very battle, memories came to him of spells he had cast to keep the imps at bay. He knew that if any more memories of battle came, he would have the power he'd need for at least the second trial. A smile appeared on Trevor's face at the thought of being 'the great protector' once more. But as he smiled, he realized that in his vision, the younger him was dying. The next thing he witnessed was nothing short of a miracle. In flames, as the phoenix would, he rose again and ended the battle once and for all.

Trevor stood in awe of his own power. But he couldn't find this power within himself now. Even with the spells of fire, arcane and rebirth, he felt like he was missing a crucial thing. That's when the vision showed him something he remembered as being worth fighting for. Leireyla, his wife. But where was she now? What had happened to her?

It seemed that for every answer Trevor got, more questions came. Questions for which Trevor had no time at all. For the first time since the trial started, Trevor felt he was losing courage. He was losing the will to go on. Yet something within himself, that little piece of hope, kept him going. Trevor shook his head, blinked slowly, and focused on the vision again as not to miss anything more then he already might have.

As the visions progressed, Trevor regained more memories and learned again from past mistakes. In the final vision, Trevor ‘s vision darkened once more before he fell to the ground. When his vision at last cleared, he saw that he was lying on his back in the middle of the large crowd of tiny ones.

"He's okay!" one of them shouted while Trevor looked around.

"Well done," the shaman started "but now comes the true test. Now we shall see if your old weapon feels confident about its wielder's memory."

The shaman handed Trevor a staff, engraved with writings in an old language and with an enchanted stone in the round crystal casing on its top. It was the staff he'd once gotten as a reminder of the victories he'd obtained in his first years as protector. In Trevor's hand, it glowed with an invigorating golden glow which gave all who were in its presence a feeling of security.

"The weapon shows its confidence," the village elder said "Trevor has passed the first trial!"

With those words, the entire village cheered and immediately prepared a great feast for Trevor's victory over his amnesia. But Trevor, even though he feasted with them, knew that this was only the beginning. 
After the feast, Trevor slept with some form of peace is his mind.
His dreams were of pain, passion and victory. But they meant nothing.
The next morning he would face a new trial, a new possible death.

His vision somewhat impaired by the long sleep he'd had, he stumbled toward the village center. There the shaman stood, waiting. Only this time, he smiled a courteous smile.
"What is my next challenge?" Trevor demanded.

"Well," the shaman began "you are to defeat an old threat upon this village. One you have faced before, though be it with a somewhat more appealing physique."

"I feel like I should be flattered," Trevor said sarcastically, "only I fear flattery was the last of your intentions."

"True enough old friend, you may wish to train your body so its muscles may function as they once did." The shaman warned, "This foe will give you a quite literal run for your money."

"I can't wait." Trevor said, tapping his staff on the ground.

"You may not be able to, but your staff would fall under the strain of this one." The shaman commented.

Trevor set his staff aside and looked at the shaman expectantly before finally demanding what his weapon should be. To which the shaman simply looked at Trevor's raised fist.

"No way," Trevor started "you expect me to fight that thing bare-handed?"

The shaman nodded before reminding Trevor of his magical advantage once again. And so, Trevor's task was set. The explanation was followed only by the gasping and subtle cries of the villagers who seemed to expect the worst. Trevor wasted no further time and began training immediately. First he trained his arms to carry the weight of ten of the villagers, then he trained his legs to run faster than a grendelserder.

For those who are less familiar with the term, these are a particularly fast brand of demon who enjoy nothing more than racing humans and little ones as to show off their speed. Though Trevor did manage to outrun one of them after a mere week of training. Curiously enough that demon vanished quite quickly after its defeat. Not one creature knows where it went.

After having trained those body parts, he trained the rest of his body to be able to resist a great impact. The whole training took him two months. Somewhat slow by the standards of the other realm but astonishingly fast for earthlings. All the shaman could muster was "The swamp to the west."

Trevor simply nodded and started his journey toward the center of the swamp. Along the way Trevor would hear giggling and see a subtle fiery glow every few minutes. Nearing three hours into the journey, Trevor had had enough and cast "scaip".
With that one word, the imps dissipated never to be seen again. Trevor was ready now.

He summoned up as powerful a voice as he could and called for Sher'helat, ruler of the swamplands. By far the biggest slime shape one had ever seen, but with a temper to match even the most hot-tempered fire lord. For hours the swamp was silent until finally, with a great cracking sound, Sher'helat rose to face the one who'd disturbed him so shamelessly.

"Who are you, tiny one!?" Sher'helat demanded.

"I am Trevor, protector of the grove and banisher of Sher'helat!" Trevor said.

"I was weak then, tiny one, the grove I wished to destroy has, since the destroyer came, been subject to my attacks without resistance!" Sher'helat boomed.

"Then let us settle this once and for all." Trevor suggested.

"Gladly!" Sher'helat shouted, increasing his size with the mud around him.

Trevor shot him with fire and ice, but to no avail. Having been hit with several blobs of slime and mud, Trevor tried running. He cast a spell to rid himself of the heavy dirt on his clothing and ran circles around Sher'helat with the speed of the little demons he'd willingly challenged some time before. Nothing happened except that there was no more mud for Sher'helat to feed himself with. Trevor could only hope for swift salvation or a death of the same speed. A long time passed and hope seemed lost to Trevor, who was covered in slime once more.

Panting and weakened, Trevor made one final and utterly desperate effort to rid the realm of Sher'helat. And with his final ounce of strength, summoned a Gash-Gash. One of the foulest smelling creatures the realm had ever known, but with an appetite quite well suited for the situation he was in. To his own surprise, the creature did exactly what he'd expected and devoured Sher'helat thus filling its stomach. But the summoned creature, disappeared into a dimension portal once its task was done.

Which left Trevor lying defenseless on the befouled soil of the swamp with only the thought of the shaman's smile to keep him occupied before his vision faded to black.
Trevor's second trial had been completed, yet he knew only despair as to his completion of the remaining ones. 

No dreams came to comfort him and consciousness seems like an impossible achievement. But after a long time of dark nothing, Trevor’s thoughts raced again. Much like an engine being fed some much needed fresh oil after years of inactivity.
His first thoughts were scrambled and incomprehensible. They were a rough mixture of everything that had happened and his hopes, but with no real structure. And when his mind finally did focus, his first thought went to his arrogance. How foolish had he been to challenge a beast easily five times his size, and how careless in casting a summoning spell without the spells he’d need to take control of the creature’s mind. Mostly though, he was lucky. Lucky to be alive and lucky to have succeeded at all.
“Second trial,” he scoffed “how are these even trials anymore”.
He shook his head and looked at where his opponent had stood, then sighed and thought of how this all must have been a punishment of sorts. He’d been shrunk, slimed, insulted and now he’d been almost dead. He never believed during his years in the human world that he would ever be drawn back into the realm. In fact, he had begun to believe that it was all a kind of elaborate dream. But he was back and it had been real. Something he was sorry to admit, he now felt pretty bad about.
So he slowly made his way back to the village, careful not to remove any of the slime from his clothes and sure to have the full story ready with all the right words. And when he got there, really nothing had changed. The little ones were still cooking their food, cleaning their clothes and singing their songs as normal. But then, for them, nothing had changed. Not yet at least. After all, without Trevor or the village shaman there to tell them the outcome of the battle, they couldn’t know. Unless they ventured out into the surrounding woods themselves. An unlikely event, if ever there was one.
Trevor stood there for a moment, at the edge of the village, watching them all and then sat on the porch of the town’s inn. His mind wandered for a minute when the shaman walked up and snapped his attention back to reality.
“I did it,” Trevor mumbled “it’s dead”.
The shaman smiled and said: “From what I understand, a Gash-Gash did it”.
“I suppose that’s true”. Trevor commented.
“You did well,” the shaman stated calmly as he perched himself next to Trevor “but as you know, more is yet to come.”
Trevor sighed once and looked at the shaman intently, then stood up.
“Are you giving up?” The shaman asked.
“No,” said Trevor “I’m standing up. And I’m going to do this my way from now on.”
The shaman laughed loudly and nodded nearly uncontrollably as he did.
“Go then Trevor, former guardian of the grove. Show me how it’s done”.
Trevor spat on the ground in front of him and pointed at the shaman: “I refuse to be foolish and run your errands”.
And with the stone cold look on the shaman’s face as a response, Trevor turned and headed into the hut where he had his sleeping quarters. It was the start of a chapter in Trevor’s life, written for once, by Trevor himself. Although not even he knew where it would lead him, he knew that his path would inevitably lead him to the silver castle on the mountain. Even if that meant figuring everything out on his own. Or for now at least, going back to his mentor’s tower, hoping to teach himself what he’d forgotten.
The only thing that wasn’t a question in Trevor’s mind after the so-called trials, was that wherever his path would stop along the way, he would leave the village the next day and he would not stop.