The Tales of Twil | Chapter Five - The Battle

Eble and Fred walked back to the path. It wound and twisted away into the darkness of the wood. Eble was greatly relieved that his path led out of this forest rather than in- if it were the latter, he doubted he could find his way again.

The halfling turned back to the fields and plains that lay before him, coated and covered with beautiful flowers of every colour. A ledge dropped down over them, and Eble sat and dangled his legs over it. The plains stretched right and left until they reached cliffs overlooking the fields on either side. The plains continued around the far sides of the jagged overlooks, and the golden morning sun cast rays of light upon the rolling hills. The forest resumed many miles ahead, and beyond that lay a towering castle.

“I must reach that fortress!” Eble thought to himself. “Maybe there I might find answers.”

But something else caught Eble’s eye. Around the cliffs to the west Eble noticed with alarm a line of men marching into the fields. And then another. And another. This was an army. As he watched a loud horn sounded, echoing over the plains.

The soldiers wore armour and helms of green and gold, and held red shields reinforced with silver. At their sides hung swords in scabbards of shining steel. As more came Eble noticed that some of the men held banners adorned with the simple design of a silver eight pointed star. Eble could not see much more than this; the warriors were too far away.

Almost instantly another, deeper horn rang out over the fields. To the left over the easternmost hills another army marched, carrying banners of gray and violet and wearing armour of similar shades. Their shields were black as obsidian, and they carried banners that waved the design of the same eight pointed star, yet webs hung from its spires.

Eble did not know what to do! He had walked right in on a battle. He wanted to gallop Fred across the plain, but the forest seemed so far, and he didn’t know if he could outrun the armies!

Now, the truth is that Eble and Fred probably could have made it had Eble known more about how slowly heavily burdened armies of Elves marched, but he didn’t. And so he resolved to wait until the battle was done, and then rush across the field as quick as he could. Although our halfling knew much, he still had lots to learn before he could call himself a true Bard.

x

. . .

It was hours before the armies met. Eble sat and played a melody as the soldiers marched on wearily, drawing closer and closer. He talked to Fred and paced to and fro, reciting verses he had learned as a small halfling.

As more soldiers appeared over the horizon, Eble noticed that on the cliffs men began to appear. It seemed that they wore less armour than the rest, and these stood in a line near the edges of the overlooks, surveying the armies.

Finally the warriors stopped. They were maybe a hundred paces away from each other, standing patiently in neat rows. Eble ran to the edge of his ledge to watch.

Two soldiers (Eble supposed they must be generals) rode forth on horses and approached each other, their horses cantering nervously. They stopped about ten paces apart, and for the first time Eble could see their faces. Their ears were thin and pointed, and their hair was long and fair. They were elves! But the second general was different than the other elves that Eble had met. She was female, for one, and her skin was dark and ebony. She carried a black mace, and her armour was decorated with spider-like emblems. A dark elf! One of the exiles Eble had read of in the library. She must be a priestess… a priestess of Lolth!

Lolth was the evil, monstrous Goddess of spiders and the patron of the dark elves. She held the titles of both Goddess and Demon Lord, making her almost as powerful as the true gods. She ruled the evil drow in spite and cunning, never releasing her hold on their poor souls. They served her in evil, alone in the dark caverns beneath the world. Dark elves hate most of all the light elves of the surface world, and strive at all times for their destruction.

Eble faintly heard their voices although he could not make out their words. After a time the two generals parted, and they rode back to the fronts of their respective troops.

Both leaders began to rally their men. They cried words in a language unknown to Eble (He thought it must have been elvish), but their furious passion came through in their voices. The dark elves began to chant, raising their swords in the air. The light elf general spoke fair words to his people, words of courage and valour. He finished his speech with a shout, and his men echoed it passionately.

There was a moment of silence on both sides.

Both generals shouted cries of war, and the two armies rushed at each other, weapons drawn and shields raised. When one hit the other instant chaos ensued. Elves died on the edges of others’ swords, and the lucky among them bounced the first attacks off of their shields, before succumbing to the next few.

Eble looked up to the cliffs. The lines of elves standing near their edges were now holding aloft what looked like staves and wands and crystal balls, and orbs of blue and red and green light were shaping into balls of fire, and arcs of lightning, and globes of acid. These mages hurled their magic into the opposing forces, sending up great explosions and destroying many.

The battle raged for thirty minutes, and still swarms of soldiers appeared. The sorcerers continued their assault, and as their magic waned more stepped forth to take their place.

Eble propped himself up against a tree and habitually began halfheartedly strumming a tune on his lute, intently watching the battle. What a strange morning- waking up to find a calamitous war before you!

Hours and hours passed. Eble grew impatient- when would this battle end? He had a book to find, and questions that needed answering!

More hours passed, and Eble tried to nap. It was impossible, though, amid the sounds of war- metal clashing, elves screaming, and things blowing up. After twenty minutes of trying, Eble gave up and continued watching.

The light elves seemed to be winning, but not by much. They pushed their enemies back, but many of their own had fallen. At his height, Eble could see that the light elves were preparing a cavalry charge.

Their white horsemen sped up, coming to a sprint. They held curved spears ready, and when they hit the dark elves’ forces they cleaved into many. The drow fell back, scattering to either side of the stampeding line.

They cut a swath through the enemy army, creating a curved, bloody line through their troops. The drow mages sent down their hellish purple fire to smite the light elves, but the horsemen raised shields and deflected their assault.

This attack proved the dark elves’ undoing. In fear their forces began to retreat, as with renewed vigour the light elven infantry resumed its assault. They pushed back the dark elves, slaying many and sending the last of them scurrying. The drow sorcerers used their last spells to fly above the trees and away into the horizon. They were gone.

The forces of light cheered, shouted cries of victory That echoed off of the surrounding cliffs. They raised their weapons triumphantly, and for a solid ten or twenty minutes they did nothing but this, congratulating each other and celebrating their victory.

The elves assembled their forces and prepared to depart. On great carts they collected  and wheeled away the dead, and as the troops departed they sang songs of mourning and sorrow for their fallen comrades.

Finally they were gone. At last Eble found himself free to cross the plains, and he sighed with relief. He packed up his instruments and untied Fred, cantering to the slope. It was far too steep, but to the left there seemed to be a safe path.

Eble and Fred descended slowly, and after a minute or two they reached the level ground of the plains. At a canter they set off, and Fred’s clopping hooves were the only sound to be heard.

Eble felt a chill run down his spine. Blood and ruin lay all about, amid colorful flowers and tall green grass. Arrows peppered the ground, and the bodies of dark elves lay all about. A landscape that should hold beauty had been sundered. Eble passed the banner of the drow, and shivering he urged Fred on.

Eble retched as he came upon the most gruesome scene yet. Here lay both elven generals, their bodies a heap of red mess. Their swords lay alone by their sides. The red grass swayed calmly in the breeze.

Eble started as the sound of earth moving broke the silence. Turning around, he watched as clods of grass and dirt pushed up into mounds. Large hands clawed their way through the bloody dirt, grasping and yearning for the surface. Fred cantered back, neighing nervously. Eble watched closely, tense with uncertainty.

Up popped three little men. And then two more! They wore large, wild beards, and their long floppy ears hung down under huge red hats. They slouched near to the ground, and there was a murderous fire in their eyes.

The five creatures gazed about wildly for a moment before their eyes locked onto Eble and Fred. The nearest screamed shrilly and the gang charged the pair.

Eble urged Fred forward with panic. The monsters were nearly upon them, and Eble did not want to help them redden their hats this day, no thank you! Fred seemed to be gaining distance on them, and Eble breathed a sigh of relief as the little men receded into the distance.

This was cut short when Eble noticed more little mounds raising in the earth ahead. He urged Fred on harder than ever, and it seemed that they might make it over the tiny, rising hills...!

With horror Eble saw hands thrusting out of the mounds before Fred. He tried to stop him, but it was too late- the pony went sailing right over the waiting arms, and Eble felt it as one of the creatures grabbed onto Fred’s leg. He looked down, and sure enough- one of the little goblins was thumping along with them.

“If only I had a sword!” Eble thought to himself angrily. “Then I might chop the little beasts’ hand off!” He spurred Fred on, hoping to lose the little man. To his dismay the creature had a grip of steel, and more monsters were popping up by the second.

Eble chanced a glance behind him. Hundreds of screaming, gnomish men now chased them, holding clubs and axes and swords. Fred was tiring, as well. “I never should have let him grow so fat!” Eble thought to himself.

The bloody spectacle thinned around him, but the army was keeping- no, increasing pace. They were closer than before, powered by an infernal hatred and bloodlust for the halfling and his pony.

But just as Eble thought they would catch him, the little men suddenly started to literally dissolve! The goblin that gripped Fred’s leg gushed away into red goo, making a bloody splatter on the ground. At a certain point, the creatures would just melt into blood and sink into the earth. With astonishment Eble realized what had saved him. As the distance between Fred and the bloody corpses increased, the power that drove these killers waned. Now that they were cleared of the gore, the creatures could no longer chase them!

Now that Eble knew he was safe from the red-capped things, he turned Fred around and watched his pursuers. They stood, stock still, watching the two with burning hatred. And then, as if on one discordant note, they all melted. Blood soaked into the earth, and all that remained were their small, red caps. Eble shivered. What kind of place was this?

. . .

Eble reached the woods beyond the field shortly after three o’clock. One of the few proper bardic skills he knew was telling sun-time. One could not be sure of the exact time, but a guess was easy enough.

Normally, Eble would have camped on the edge of this forest, but something told him to move on, to leave this dark battlefield behind. The beautiful forest ahead would be welcome after the gory ordeal of earlier.

Eble oiled and lit a torch before riding away into the ancient trees. “What have I gotten myself into?” He wondered as the forest swallowed him away into the night.

The Tales of Twil | Chapter Four - The Corridor

And so Eble’s journey continued. He and Fred plodded on for three weeks or more, though time seemed… different in the forest. It was as if some spell permeated their surroundings, and they were feeling its effects.

He saw many faeries, and met several scouts from the nearby Elf kingdom of Nestria. He had just been dozing off when he heard the shuffles of footsteps, and Fred cantering nervously. He awoke and looked about to find human bandits Standing all around! Fortunately, the Elves had chosen this moment to attack. With one fell volley they shot down all of the ruffians, and then approached Eble. His size had saved him! The Elves told him that if he had been a bit larger, he would have likely taken one of those arrows himself! But they had mistaken him for a gnome. Their kingdom was on good terms with the surrounding gnomish communities, and they took special care not to shoot their friends! Elves have no quarrel with halflings, and so they had let him pass in peace. That episode had taught Eble to always sleep off the path.

Something inside of Eble changed in those few weeks. He began to see in himself a sliver of the brave fierceness told of in the old stories. He had always aspired to the valour of countless heroes of song and myth, but he had never dreamed that one day he would have an journey of his own, let alone become an adventurer!

But he mustn’t get ahead of himself. He was only three weeks in, after all! It would take a much more than that to earn his bootstraps.

Twenty-five days after the start of his journey, Eble came to the edge of the forest. The path opened out into flat, rolling plains. The sunset gave everything a vibrant red hue. “Well!” Eble thought to himself with a triumphant smile. “I’ve done it! One stage of my journey, at least, has come to it’s close. But I mustn’t be hasty… Oh, I’ll sleep in the forest one more night! It’s getting onto dark, anyhow.”

He found a spot some distance from the path, in a clearing beneath the trees. A tall, yawning arch stood opposite him. It was made of gold, and gems were inlaid all upon it. Elvish runes curved across its’ length, but Eble could not read them.

Eble was surprised he had not spotted this from the trail. But why would it be here, in such an out-of-the-way place?

Oh, well. A question for another, less weary day. Eble needed rest now. He would study the gate tomorrow.

He tethered Fred to a tree, and gathered sticks for the fire. Only when he had it comfortably burning did he lay down to rest.

. . .

Eble awoke, and in an instant knew that he was dreaming.

It was still dark- the full moon watched over the forest silently from above, casting it’s hollow rays upon the trees. The stars twinkled thoughtfully, and Eble could see some of his favorite constellations. Fred lay by his tree, sound asleep.

Everything felt slightly… wrong. Blurry. Off-colour. Eble realized that there was a faint green glow illuminating his surroundings. It could only be coming from behind him.

He turned and looked at the arch. It was the same as it had been the night before, but now there was a strange, misty liquid glowing green in the gate. It seemed like the peaceful waters of a sacred pool turned on their side. He looked on at this in fear and wonder, frightened but still a little bit curious. He stood and walked slowly to the arch and extended his index finger. He wanted to touch the green fluid, but hesitated.

“Is this a good idea?” Eble thought to himself skeptically. Most people did not typically go around touching strange, potentially magical green substances… But Eble was not most people.

He placed his finger in the green liquid. It felt like a thick, pure goo. He slowly put his whole hand into the substance. Although it looked and felt like goo, inside it was like a bath of pure radiance on his skin, a beautiful, foggy green light that flowed around his hand gracefully. He felt whole in the substance, and suddenly he yearned to enter it entirely.

Eble looked back at Fred, and his own sleeping body. They would both miss him, Eble thought sadly. For he was certain now that this was a portal, a gateway to somewhere else. Where it led he did not know, but he knew it must lead somewhere. Yes, Fred might miss him. Then again, it was just a dream, after all.

Eble allowed himself to sink into the light.

It was like wading through the ocean, yet Eble’s body did not strain or ache. He floated through the green, gel-like radiance, and his hair swam in it. He began to feel woozy and weak, and suddenly the cares of the world felt… lessened. His mind lulled lazily as he floated on in the forgotten corridor.

The tunnel continued on for a long time, and showed no signs of stopping. The hall was made of pale stone, and seemed worn by many years. Runes were carved into the walls, telling a single narrative that Eble could not understand. The halfling came to lose his sense of time. How long had he been here? Hours? Days???

Eble perked up when gradually he noticed the faint outline of a woman appearing ahead in the light. He could not see far ahead or behind in the fog, and she stayed just on the border of his clear sight, walking backwards confidently. As he watched, the outline turned and began walking away into the mist. She seemed able to defy the liquid light that Eble struggled through.

“Hello?” Eble tried to say through the thickness. His voice made no sound.

After a few moments, the woman’s form faded altogether again into the fog. Eble was alone.

But wait? What was that?

Ahead Eble saw that the tunnel opened out into darkness, pure and pitch black. The corridor was at its’ end. Eble fought his way through the sluggish light until he stood right before the dark opening. He saw no hint of light, or what might lie ahead in the dark.

Eble turned again to the way he had come. He could go back… Yet something told him that the tunnel would not lead him back to his body once more. He must either enter this darkness, or become lost in this eternal corridor forever.

Eble made his choice and dove into the blackness. As soon as his arms left the light, his body felt normal again. It no longer felt slow and heavy as it had been in the liquid radiance, and his mind was no longer clumsy and stupid. He fell out onto his hands and knees, his eyes closed. Although he would not notice it now, Eble would later remember the feel of grass beneath his palms.

Eble looked up. Before him lay Fred and his own sleeping body, in the same positions as when Eble had left. But their surroundings had changed. A cool breeze wafted in the air. The trees were enormous, nearly three times as wide around as they had been before. Many glowing faeries chased fireflies in the air above, where moonlight glowed on the trees’ leaves. Eble could hear the bubbling of a stream somewhere in the distance, and flowers grew all around their clearing in a ring.

Eble supposed this should shock him, but after all… He was dreaming.

He supposed it was time to wake up. Although it was a lovely dream, it could not last forever. He walked slowly back to his sleeping body and laid down in it. He knew no more.

. . .

Eble woke up, and immediately thought of his dream.

Ah, what a wondrous dream it had been! He remembered little of it, save a feeling of mystery and magic. A mourning came into his heart at this thought, that the dream was over. Later he would forget it; it would sink unremembered into the depths of his subconscious, only to resurface on tired nights under full moons.

But how strange. Still Eble felt like he was floating, floating on warm clouds in the sky, serene and untouched. And he smelled flowers! Warm, lovely scents wafting on the gentle Fall breeze. He smelled roses, and lilies, and lilacs, and tulips! Certainly he had not been here before…

“Had not been here before?” What did that mean?

Eble opened his eyes, and his breath stopped.

The huge trees that Eble had seen in the forest before seemed but young saplings compared to the enormous specimens before him. Their trunks were wider than any Eble had ever seen- wider than seemed possible! Flowers of every shade ringed the clearing, wafting in a perfectly cool sigh of air. Lush green grass grew all around him. Faeries flew in the air, drinking dew off of the tips of trees and laughing happily with one another. But these faeries were unlike their counterparts in the… real world? They were larger, and they glowed vibrant colours unlike the mundane faeries of Eble’s world.

But where was he? That was the question. This place seemed resonant with the simple clearing in which he had rested last night, but it was somehow more. It was as if the real world had the potential to be beautiful, yet only here could it really be so.

But Eble could not dally! He must get a  move on- he had to find a way back to his world- he had to find The Tales of Twil. That was when he realized what was missing. The arch. Where it had stood no trace now remained, as if it had never existed. “How are we to return home?” Eble asked Fred aloud in a panic.

But as he fretted, Eble realized that there was a tiny piece of himself that didn’t want to go. Even if he could find a way back, did he want to leave? The magnificence of this place was unmatched by even the most beautiful forests of his world, and after all beauty is what Eble sought. He was a Bard, after all. Yes, if he could stay here but a while, what he could learn-

For Eble knew where he was, of course. He had known since he had stirred to consciousness. He was in Faerie. The land of the wild fey and the beautiful elves. The world that he had read of at the library so long ago in Brunwich. The world of the beautiful and the deadly.

Eble stood while he pondered the terrifying yet wonderful implications of his displacement. His fire was gone, so he needn’t worry about that. He packed up his bedroll and untied Fred. Eble did know one thing for certain- it was time to continue his adventure in this ripe new land!

The Tales of Twil | Chapter Three - Departure

Eble woke up. An hour late.

He had planned to start his journey at seven o’clock, but he wasn’t used to waking up so early! Eble usually started his day sometime around ten-thirty, and that is a three-and-a-half hour difference!

When he woke he grabbed his pack, his weapons, and his instruments, and then he headed downstairs to the tavern.

“Ah! Master Eble!” Bregan said from behind his counter. He was wiping out glasses.

“Morning, Bregan!” Eble said, plopping himself down at a table.

“Any luck finding your book?” The barkeep asked with concern.

Eble sighed. “‘Fraid not. I do have some leads, though!”

“Ah, well! That’s something, then!”

There was a pause, and Bregan spoke again. “The usual, Eble?”

“Oh… Why not!”

“You hesitate, my friend! I don’t mean to pry, but is something wrong?”

Eble sighed. “I must leave today. I’m going after the thing that stole my storiebook.”

Bregan was taken aback. “Oh. Well. I think we’ll all be sorry to see you go!”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back.” Eble said. Bregan nodded.

A moment later, Bregan brought Eble his breakfast. It consisted of three waffle sandwiches stuffed with bacon, strawberries, and syrup. It was delicious.

Twenty-five minutes later, Eble pushed his plate away and stood up. “I’m going now.” He said. “Wish me luck.”

“I do, Eble.” Bregan said, casually saluting the Halfling. “To best of days!”

“And better ones past!” Eble finished. He strolled out of the tavern and into the brisk morning air.

. . .

Eble fed Fred, and then the duo headed out of town. They passed the blacksmith’s shop, the cobbler’s house, and the jeweler’s.

They reached the Brunwich city gate, and it struck Eble how wild the untamed wilderness beyond the city really was. The trees weren’t thick, but they were many. Their leaves were all shades of orange, yellow, purple, and green. Ferns covered the soil like a green rug, and various plants fought for the patches of sunlight filtering through the trees. The forest was certainly wild, but it was also welcoming. It seemed like a place of serenity, the opposite of dark forests described in faerie stories. With deep breath, Eble led Fred into the trees.

The pair rode for a couple of hours before stopping to eat lunch. Eble poured Fred some grain, and ate some of his rations.

Eble’s rations mostly consisted of figs and greenberries. Greenberries (often mistaken for unripe blueberries) Were a sour berry that were surprisingly filling. One needed only eat three or four per day to be full. However, Eble was unaware of this; He ate ten, and suffered from a moderate stomachache for most of the afternoon.

He and Fred rode on until nightfall. Some time before dark Eble found a campsite and set up camp.

Darkness fell, and Eble seated himself by the fire with his flute. Solemnly he played an ancient melody of mourning, and any woodland creatures nearby scurried to the edge of the firelight to hear his music. Eternity it seemed he played, until he had assembled quite an audience. Many small pairs of eyes shined in the dancing light, yet they went unnoticed by the  halfling. The fire dimmed, and still Eble played- Only when it died entirely did he retire.

. . .

Eble woke to the sound of fire crackling. But how could that be? The fire had died last night, and he had been sleeping- which could only mean one thing…

Eble sat up to see a slim, athletic humanoid crouched over his fire, cooking some strange plant. His face was fair, and pointed ears poked out of his oak-brown hair. The stranger smiled wryly when he saw Eble rise.

“Good morning, master halfling.”

“Good morning.” Eble said cautiously. “I don’t mean to offend you, but may I ask… Who are you, and why are you using my campsite?”

The elf chuckled. For that is what it was, Eble could see clearly enough… One of the wood elves he had heard of in tales told through the years.

“You do not offend me. I am simply here to ensure that you do no harm to my forest, or it’s inhabitants. For I am the druid of this wood, and I protect its natural splendor. You may pass in peace, if you agree to these terms.”

“I do.” Eble said. “I wish no harm upon this forest, nor you. For it is beautiful beyond compare! I have not once been beyond the borders of Brunwich, and I see what I have been missing!”

“You seem honest, stranger. I am glad that you share my views, and agree with my terms, for I have not had a friend to speak with for many years. Tell me, traveller, of news from the more civilised lands!”

Eble told him of Brunwich, and it’s goings-on. He told him of his quest, and the library, and Bregan; He told him of Ludwig’s, and the Frogwhich, and many other pubs he had visited in the grand city. The Druid listened raptly, stopping every now and then to ask questions.

They talked for an hour or more, the leaves of autumn falling all around. Suddenly the Elf stood, his hair flying in the breeze, his ears pricked up intently.

“What is it?” Eble said. The Druid did not respond for a few moments.

“I must away. My people are calling.”

“So soon?” Eble said. “I had hoped to travel some together! It has been long since I have had such a ready audience!”

The Elf smiled regretfully. “Duty calls. I am sorry, my friend, but I cannot stay. I hope that we shall meet again.

Eble smiled sadly. “As do I.” As the Elf walked away, Eble called after him “Ah- What is your name, good Druid?”

The Druid turned back to look at him. “I am Erendis.” He said, bowing. “And what is yours?”

“Eble.” Eble said. “Farewell!”

With a wave Erendis turned away into the trees, and in a moment he was gone.

. . .

Eble fed Fred again, and then the two set off once more. Fred was restless- he, like Eble, had never been beyond the city walls. They made slow progress- the pony was continually attempting to turn around and return home.

Slowly they cantered through the forest, colorful leaves falling all around. The trees slowly grew larger as the duo slowly made their way away from civilization. They were wild and beautiful, filled with ancient strength.

Eble heard laughing above, and when he looked up his heart all but stopped. There above him five faeries sat on a branch, laughing and pointing at Eble and Fred. One stuck her tongue out at the halfling.

He did not mind that they were teasing him. Faeries were vain, after all. But that did not matter! Eble had never even dreamed that he would someday lay eyes upon even a few of the faerie folk!

Eble took a moment to collect himself. “What would really impress them?” He wondered earnestly. It was only a few moments before he realized the answer.

Eble swung his lute into position and began to strum an old elvish melody. It was one of the first songs that he had learned, and still one of his finest. The faeries’ laughter died slowly, until they sat gaping at his music. Fred cantered impatiently.

When the song ended, the faeries bowed and flitted away. Eble watched them go, still smiling.

. . .

Days passed. Eble encountered almost nothing else in that time, but all the while the trees still grew larger. Eble could feel himself moving further and further away from the city, and into the wild.

On the sixth day of his departure, Eble encountered another stranger on the road. It was nearing sunset, and suddenly Eble spotted a short, thin man with pointy ears and wild chestnut hair. At first glance Eble wondered if the stranger was a halfling like himself, for he was of the Bard’s height; but upon closer inspection he saw that the traveller was clearly a gnome. He wore clothes of greens and browns, and little twigs poked out of his hair. He clutched a gnarled walking stick, and his face was fair and curious.

“Good morning!” The Gnome said brightly as he approached Eble.

“The same to you!” Eble said cheerfully. “I have not met many on this road. What brings you this way?”

“Ah!” Said the newcomer. “I do not walk this road by choice- I found myself quite lost in the forest, and I am hoping to find my way again sooner or later by this path. But please- you seem like a reasonable fellow; Do you think you might tell me where I am? For I, like you, have encountered no one else in my time here, and your help would be a welcome respite!”

“Of course!” Eble replied. “You are actually quite near a city- just a few days away, in fact. The city of Brunwich!”

“Is that so?” The gnome said curiously.

“Indeed.” Eble confirmed. “As a matter of fact, I am just leaving town myself. I am a Bard, and my book of stories was stolen! It is one of a kind, and I am pursuing the thief.”

“Interesting!” The gnome said thoughtfully. “As a matter of fact, I did pass one other person on my way here! He wore a dark hood and cloak, with a frightful face underneath! The letters US were printed on the back of his cloak. I wonder if he might be the villain you speak of.”

Eble’s heart stopped. So he was not too late! The trail was still fresh, and that meant that all hope was not lost.

“Thank you, good sir!” Eble said with a smile.

After a pause he spoke again: “Well, I must be on my way! Good luck, Mister…?”

“Eril Button, sir!” The gnome said with a polite bow. “And what is your name, if I may ask?”

“Eble.” The halfling said with a wink. “Safe travels.”

“The same to you.” Said Eril.

The two parted ways.