Chapter 3: A Journey Begins . A Foolhardy End

_____The Journey Begins_____

Auron was already down in the banquet hall. Packed and ready to go. If one did not know him better they would think his readiness expressed some sort of anxious behavior. Auron was a man always ready, though, ever poised for an exit. He had seated himself at the children's table that Rovin sat at last night. He had replaced one of the shorter chairs with a normal sized one, pulled slightly away from the stoop of the table as to avoid knocking his knees against its edge.

Aside from Avah, Auron, and Rovin the dining area was empty at the moment. As the elf moved to take a seat at the table Auron gazed up with his bright green eye and caught glimpse of a new arrival. A mysterious one, at that. Whether it was her subtle beauty or element of surprise towards the unexpected, the battle-worn mercenary nearly leaned back too far and spilled backwards. He recovered, nonchalantly, as if correcting an improper lean. It is the woman I saw outside the Inn last night. The last one that Viceroy Morris turned away... How in the world did she get in here?

“Morning,” Auron bid a neutral welcome, and held the palm of his right hand out in the direction of the Kinfolk woman. “... And this is…?”

Avah replaced another short chair for an adult sized one and sat down opposite of both elf and man. “Avah, I come from the Eastern woods of Ninoa.”

“She is an old friend of mine,” Rovin interjected.

“And old friend, eh?” The mercenary set his feet back flat on the wood floorboards. “You, uh, you guys know each other fairly well, then, I take it?”

“Not really,” she started

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” the elf spoke over her. “She is accompanying us on my errand,” he explained. “She arrived here last night. In my room of all things.  Guess the Innkeeper double booked.” He glanced over at her as if expecting some sort of protest.

She opened her mouth as if to start and then she closed it again. This must be one example, in the flesh, on the trickery of elvenkind, she pondered in slight agitation, What encouraged him to rope me in so easily? But she felt, deep down in the pit of her still empty stomach, that this elf could read her like a book. Read anyone as easy as a grown man reading a bedtime story to their child. After the passing of her mother, the long absence of her father, and the secretive ostracization from her family ties, she was but a vagabond. Her curiosity and yearning for excitement teemed around the aura of beauty that surrounded her. Like she was made for greatness. Though she would surely be one to beg to differ. She attempted to open her mouth again in some sort of half-hearted protest but then Rovin spoke again.

“She has heard upon the wind of my awakening and has come to assist me in my task.” The elf’s tone would be considered almost amusing and comical if not for the stoic demeanor of his face.  

“Is that so?” Auron asked in feigned interest.

Avah, wayward daughter of the Eastern woods of Ninoa, shrugged and gave a half-nervous grin. A groan of approval escaped her cherry blossom lips and ended as if it were more of a question than an answer.

“WHO IS THIS WOMAN?” A stress-ridden voice erupted from the doorway of the kitchen. None other than Viceroy Morris Grail. “How did you get in..?” then his dulled eyes lit up with a fire of recall, “you are that woman from last night! The one I referred to the Silver Chair Inn down the road. What business do you have bothering our Patron Lord Rovin?”

“Please,” started the elf “As I have said before: Rovin is just fine. The aggressive behaviour of your formalities bring me discomfort, Viceroy Morris. And this happens to be Avah Adalyn from the East woods of Ninoa. She has come to aid me in the task I must set off to accomplish.”

“Task? But, Lord Rovin.”

“Just Rovin, thank you.”

“... Rovin. You have but just awoken and must have many questions. I, too, have many of my own and those of your townspeople. I beg your pardon but could you not stay for some time, bestow us with your blessings before you leave us?”

Rovin took in a deep breath, trying to muster up the patience to answer Morris. Auron decided to take reign of the conversation.

“Listen, Chief,” He took a deep pull on his pipe and shot a cloud of the dizzying smoke above their heads. “How’s about you go back to the most important task at hand and bring us out some breakfast. You know some sausage, potatoes, hot tea, bread and butter even?”

Morris surveyed the other two and found expressions of agreeance looking back at him. Abashed, he turned back slowly towards the Inn’s kitchen.

“And some jam, too.” Avah chimed in. Her voice steady, almost authoritative. These people wait hand and foot for a man they only know by superstitions. Why not stay a couple more days? I could get used to having such admirable service. She looked back with a pleased grin at her fellows and was met with silent stares of feigned disapproval. She did not let that spoil her good mood, and when the food was finally spread out before them by Thomas and Ella, it did not spoil her appetite either.

Local Haveran smoked pig sausage, delicate quail and hearty chicken eggs of all sort; potatoes baked, mashed, pan fried, and home style. Slices of cold roast from the Inn’s Ice house. Hot Seraphim and Dinder root tea. Fresh baked whole wheat loaf, butter, and best of all lemon and fawstberry jams. Avah and Auron stacked their plates high with helpings of all the sort. Rovin, box in his lap, grabbed the wheat loaf and began to peel and eat the skin off of it in little pieces. The Inn staff and Viceroy Morris let them be as they dined.

Auron skewered a soft boiled quail egg and a cutlet of sausage and ate it. He grunted a slight approval and brought the mug of tea to his lips. As he took a deep draft of the spicy-sweet seraphim and bitter, energizing, dinder root his single green eye looked down to Rovin and seemed to gaze past the table and onto the elf’s lap beneath it. “So,” he lifted his eye up to meet coal black ones of Rovin, “what’s in the box?”

The ancient elf did not break his gaze from the weathered mercenary as he peeled off more bread crust and nibbled on it. “Well,” he lifted up his own tea and took a quick sip of it, “what’s with your eye?”

Stares of solemnity did ensue and Auron also took another drag from his mug, feeling its heat enter his belly and warm his entire body. “Some good tea,” he brought the mug down to expose his mouth in a offset, smug, grin.

“Yes,” Rovin’s legs began to swing back and forth under the table, “it’s very nice.” He went back to peeling the entire wheat loaf. Auron, nor Avah, cared now for a piece of it.   

Eventually little was left upon the table for retrieval. Soiled plates, cups, saucers, and silverware; the occasional scrap and a now completely crustless, naked, wheat loaf remained. Avah would have been devastated by the fact that the odd elf practically ruined a good loaf of bread but she had used the butter and jam on her sausage. After all, she filled up on bread last night.

   

***

Kimbal The Bruise awoke in his bed. It seemed like seconds ago that he had stared into the eyes of the great Rovin of Haveran. He had stared into the elf’s eyes, unblinking, and recited the age-old chant. And the elf had awoken. The elf awoke and Kimbal tumbled back into abrupt darkness and into a lake of ice water. He felt as if he was falling, falling forever. He had jerked awake and out of bed as if he landed there from a great distance. He was in his room, in his jammies, and the sun was hanging in its usual morning position above his window. Had it all been a dream? If it was not a dream, was he now cursed or blessed by the auspicious event that took place just last night?

Kimbal rushed past the beds of his two younger, still sleeping, sisters and down into the kitchen. His mother and father both sat at the table, their current conversation abruptly halted by the boy’s entrance.

“Well,” the deep and sturdy voice of his father billowed, “looks like trouble has come to grace us with his presence. Margie could you please get our boy a glass of milk, I’m sure he is thirsty.”

His mother rose from the table, “Kimmy has been through a lot, take it easy on our boy, Rodger.” She walked by Kimbal and placed a hand gently, lovingly, upon his shoulder. Kimbal flushed with embarrassment. I’m not a boy anymore, I’m a man, damn it!

“Oh, Margie, I won’t shake the boy’s head off or nothing I promise you that.” Rodger replied in good nature.

Mother looked down at son for a brief moment and she smiled. Then moved off into the hallway and down into the basement to ladle out a cup of milk for her child.

Rodger was a tall and sturdy man. His younger years as a soldier and his older years as a huntsman gave him a mantle of manliness that Kimbal had always admired, envied even. He was the spitting image of his son with many more autumns marking his face, touches of silver in his brown hair. He stared at the boy for a moment not with aggravation, scorn, or disappointment. More like pity. Then he spoke. “How do you feel boy?”

Kimbal brought his hand up to the back of his head and felt on a small tender lump that lay there. “... Fine. I guess. Did?...” he paused and bashfully placed his hands behind his back and looked at the floor. “Did the elf Rovin, did he actually come awake?”

“Yes, yes he did.”

“Did… Did I do it? Was it really my fault?”

The tall, sun browned, man erupted in laughter and then it tapered off. Kimbal took a sigh of relief, father was not mad at him after all. The father looked back at him reassuringly. “Kimbal. It was all but mere coincidence.”

“But I looked in his eyes, pops, his deep charcoal eyes.” He took in a shameful breath, “I recited the chant.”

His father chuckled again, lightly, and motioned for him to come closer to him. The boy obeyed and Rodger lightly punched the boy on his arm. “Kimbal, that is all just make believe. None of us really know much about the true nature of Rovin, if that is his real name. We know not why he really came here and we know not why he leaves. And we know not why he finally awoke from his sleep. But I do know that what you did last night I also did as a child your age once. Many a man has. He never awoke those times. You had nothing to do with his disturbance, I guarantee it.”

“He is leaving?” He asked frantically

“Yes, Mayor Morris has announced that he will be leaving town later this morning in the company of a Kinfolk woman and a mercenary. His business and purpose are unknown but his leaving was inevitable. Son, elves do not long for the world of man.”

“I must go see him father. I must go with him, you see, he chose me. I must go with him and become a man!”

“A man’s purpose is not found in the company of whimsy, my boy. Your purpose is here. Learning a trade, finding a good woman to settle down with, making me a granddad.”

Kimbal turned away in the manner of a tantrum and faced away from his father back towards the doorway into the hall. “Father, a man makes his own decisions in life whether in reason or whimsey… and he sticks by them. I must go with Rovin. I must.”

“That is not possible boy. They will be leaving soon, most of Haveran will be seeing them off, I suggest you watch them leave. See the elf off with the others and then meet me on the west end of town so I can continue showing you how to tan hides.”

“I will go to him in the street, he will know me, he will take me with him…”

A hard slam came down on the table. Rodger’s open right palm lay plastered to the table top. “Don’t you dare embarrass your mother and I any further, Kimbal. Don’t your dare! Last night is forgivable, harmless even, but if you embarrass yourself or this family any further you will be soon to regret even the thought of it! Am I reaching you at all on this?”

Kimbal was glad that he faced in the other direction of his father’s sight. His eyes began to feel moist with angst. Maybe he was still acting like a boy but he just had to know for himself. “Yes, father. I will see them off. It’s the least I can do. And then I will come meet you at the tannery.” He began to walk off back to his room.

Kimbal heard his father slide the chair out from beneath him as he stood and headed towards the front door to leave.

“Son,” he started.

Kimbal had just turned into the hallway and was facing the way back into his room. “Yes, pops?”

“I love you, boy. Don’t dally too long. Go ahead and fetch my hunting knife from my room and bring it to me when you're done watching the elf. It’s yours now. I want you to have it.”

With that he heard the front door close all the way. And then his dampening eyes swelled up till tears ran out over the sides and softly down his cheek. He could not obey his father’s request. He was a man now and men followed through with their determinations. He would not just see the leaving party out of town but he would follow them. He would intercept them on the road outside of Haveran and confront the elf. He was going to follow Rovin to his destiny, he knew it. Even if it eventually meant his own death.  

“Love you too, dad.”

Margarette watched her son further down the hall, glass of milk in her hand. She watched as he silently walked back down the hallway and into his room. Her boy was at a very strange age, on the brink of manhood. In many ways his behavior and reasoning was beyond her. She shrugged, decided her boy was in the mood to rather be left alone, and took a sip from the cup. She then turned in the opposite direction of her son and left out towards the back of their house to begin some tending to their home garden.

Back in the room Kimbal, as to not wake his two sisters, crept back over to his side of the room and pulled out a traveling pack he kept under his bed. He always kept it stocked, over the years many of his baubles and toys were replaced by changes of clothing, rope, tinder box, threads, yarns, hooks and some jerky from the annual pantry. He had always packed it imagining leaving his town with some of the boys here; Yoder, Randi and the lot. Leaving to go on a wild adventure they always heard, read, or spoke about. Now was the time.

As he crept out the room again, one of his sisters awoke and looked towards him. It was Synthia, the youngest, only four years old now. “Kimbal… Kimkim where are you going?”

“I am going to become a hero, Syn. I’m going to be famous and I will come back and bring you something nice. A dragon’s tooth maybe.”

Her eyes grew wide. “A real dragon’s tooth? Oh wow, will you come home soon?”

He slowly came up to the side of her bed and kissed the top of her head. “I will be gone for a little while but it won’t be forever.”

“Proooomise?” She said around a yawn and laid her head back down upon her pillow to close her eyes.

“I promise. I will come back. A hero. You will see.” Then he left out the room and into his parent’s across the way.  He picked up his father’s hunting knife, which was now his own. Though not yet a man, the long knife seemed to have the size and weight of that similar to something between a short sword and a long blade. Kimbal felt a course of energy and excitement build up in his lower gut as he slung the stringed up sheath around his shoulder and down at his side, walked out the front door, and out towards the main street where others had already gathered. He would follow them out of town and after a safe distance away he would speak to Rovin. And join him on his glorious quest.

***

Rovin, Auron and Avah all met up outside the Inn after collecting all of their things, which between all three of them was not much to begin with. But all that was soon to change as they made their way out across the Dreaming Elf Inn’s lawn and onto the main street of Haveran. Townspeople and visitors alike lined and filled each side of the road.

Avah observed the faces of the crowd. Many of them stared in admiration. They whistled and cheered at them as they moved along down the cleared roadway. Avah did not like this sort of attention though, she felt so exposed. Embarrassed even. Then she looked over at her companions and noticed the feeling was mutual in its totality. As a group they picked up pace without any visible cue from one another. This was definitely not their scene. Avah became more abashed when some of the villagers began to come out into the street handing them supplies of all sorts. Some gave them small offerings of gold they had collected up for Lord Rovin of Haveran. Some who did not have gold to give handed them items of certain value well enough to be traded. A flask of whiskey here, a gold plated candelabra there, fine quilted blankets and even a little carved wooden elf on a rock given to him by a little girly no more than the age of three, held by her father who asked for a parting blessing from Rovin. The elf awkwardly just grinned and nodded slightly.

Others, Avah saw, were unable to contain some deep grief inside of them. Tears ran down faces, hands fell over sobbing mouths. They mourned like watching a dearly loved family member leaving to war, uncertain of return. Anxiety began to gradually build for Avah until she began to pick up pace just a little more. A pace that began to deter any more townsfolk from advancing towards them with more gifts and pleas for a final blessing. She moved in her unnaturally fluid and swift nature now and Auron started to lag a little behind.

Rovin, though almost perturbed by the increase in speed, found this as a blessing in disguise and hiked his beard up over the box he held in his arms and joined the pace. Yet, his legs were shorter than his companions and so he broke out into a jog. He felt someone’s eyes upon him outside the crowd. He opened up and felt the Rhun around him. He soon noticed that one townsman, a certain boy, was following in their direction behind the crowd. His Rhun then started to become familiar. The boy who he frightened in his awakening from the rock. He wondered what drove this boy. After all, Rovin was so old in years that, even if he had ever gone through anything similar to it, human puberty was unimaginable.

To the leaving party the trek out of town could not have lasted any longer. The amount of relief that washed over all three of them was almost palpable. Avah slowed her pace and the other two followed suit. Both men letting out shallow sighs of relief.

Still, Rovin noticed that the boy had continued out of town and now lagged very far behind them, even out of audible shout range. Avah shifted to redistribute some of the new encumbrance recently obtained. She did so almost uneasily, he noticed.

Auron gently cleared his throat and began to pack his short pipe with his dried botanical. “I believe we are being followed.” He stated matter-of-factly.

Avah glanced back and even at this far of a distance she could still make out the shadow the boy cast forward, lit by the high morning sun behind him. “Well, nothing gets by you does it?” she humoured.

“Yes, I noticed it as well. Back in town. It's a boy that follows us. One that was there when I rose from my place on the rock.” he paused for a moment as he pocketed the wooden figurine of himself somewhere within his beard.

“The boy is running. If he keeps this pace he will soon catch up with us.” Auron continued, striking a fire stick and puffing up a steady stream of smoke from his pipe. “To be honest with you, I am not going to pick up our pace. I refuse to be chased out of town by the fear of a curious boy.”

Rovin nodded and sounded a grunt of agreement as he then took the box that he held in his arms and slid that also into his great beard. To the only other people present, being Avah and Auron, it seemed to just disappear as it slid in between a part in the golden-brown waterfall of hair that spilled from his childlike face.

Elves are strange ones, indeed, Avah mused.

Auron walked on as if not noticing.

Eventually the sound of rapid and heavy foot falls became audible. The company of three decided to slow down their pace even more as if to cut the poor kid a break.   

“ROVIN!” Came a hoarse and exasperated voice now only a few paces behind him. “Lord Rovin, wait! I beg of you…”

The party stopped walking altogether and turned around to stare at the boy. He had a travel bag over one shoulder and a beautiful hunting knife strung up and slung over his opposite. His heavily cowlicked hair that seemed to grow out in every which way rustled and swayed in the brisk autumn morning breeze.

The boy, now caught up, stopped dead in his tracks and hunched forward. Hands on his knees as he breathed rapidly and then slowed it down to deep breaths and maintained normalcy. He looked up at the group, sweat dewing up on his smooth brow. “I’m coming with you.”

Without even bothering to control herself Avah let out a sharp chuckle, ”W-what?” She placed a hand on her head as if the comedy of this very moment overwhelmed her.  

“Boy,” Auron started

“No.” Rovin simply replied. Then he turned around and began walking again. West, out of town.

Auron nodded farewell in the boy’s direction with the tip of his finger touching his hat. He let out a puff of smoke and tossed his finger tip back towards town as if to show the boy a direction he had never been before. He then turned and followed Rovin.

Avah held back another giggle and shrugged. Her silver/blue eyes danced some sort of playful mockery at the boy and she, too, joined her company due west.

Kimbal picked up a sprinting pace again and headed off to the side of them and evened out just a few strides ahead. He turned around and continued to jog backwards. While talking back at them. “Look, I am not going to turn around. Last night I passed the right of passage, last night I became a man. I was chosen by you and now I must follow you. Your words will not turn me away and your refusal to me joining you on your quest is not an option. I am going to be a great hero! I will not return until I have helped you on your quest and become like a glory lord of old! I would die before I turned back now.”

Rovin stopped again. The others stopped along with him. “That is what I’m afraid of. Go home boy, go be safe and comfortable. Where we go is not meant for the young age of your already reckless breed, boy. For the last time go home.”

The boy stared at him so intently that Rovin knew the boy meant every word he said. He was not turning around.

“Maybe,” Auron said, “he is softer than the saggy tit of an old hag. I killed for my first time when I was but a couple years younger than him. The boy will never learn how to be a real man unless you let him do this. Let him tag along.” He took a long drag and shot the smoke off towards Kimbal’s face, the coughing boy wavered a little. “I say he does not last the night, starts to miss his mommy and goes crying back home.”

Avah failed to stifle another laugh at this.

“I would not!” He shouted back at Auron. “I will not cry! I will not go home! I am going with the lot of you whether you like it or not. I am going to become the great hero Rovin has chosen me to be. It IS my destiny.”      

Avah unslung her pack and tossed it over to the boy, “Well, then make yourself useful kid and carry my stuff would you?” She laughed and started walking after Rovin.

Auron chuckled and added a bag of his to the boys load as well. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Kimbal’s face lit up and he hastily slung the two extra loads onto his back and continued off on the side of the road next to them. “You guys won’t regret this. You will see! I can be real helpful!”

The group of three started down the road once more now joined by a fourth body. Kimbal The Bruise. He turned around again and walked backwards as he spoke. “My name is Kimbal. My friends call me The Bruise. It's not always cause I get in fights all that often I just tend to have acciden---!” his stream of words turned into a shout of surprise.

The others watched as their new pack mule of a boy fell backwards into a hole. By the sound of his shout as it decreased in volume they imagined a fairly deep hole. Then the scream of alarm stopped but there was no thudding sound.

Suddenly, they heard the boy’s shout again, this time it grew in volume till he was shot out of the hole by some unseen force. Particles of dirt and dust shot up behind his ascent and then Kimbal found himself face down on the ground. He was almost frozen in shock. The party began to walk up closer to the boy and the hole he had fallen into and “fallen” back out of. Then a shovel shot up, also followed by a geyser of dirt and dust. Then two large hands grabbed hold of the edge and a man emerged from it.

Even with the marring of dirt and mud on his body and face, any woman would tell you that this man was painfully handsome. Avah’s heart leapt up in her chest as she took him in with her eyes. He stood the tallest of any one there, even her by a couple heads. His musculature appeared to be chiseled from the hardest of stone. He had a bald, smooth head, reflective to the high morning sun. He boasted well placed brow and strong, yet gentle, facial features that would cause most women to shamelessly glance upon them even in the company of their man. Avah nearly fell in love at just the sight of this virile man. Well, hello big boy. Where have you been all my life?

But there was something strange about his hazel eyes. The light of intelligence usually present in most anyones eyes seemed… dimmer. Then he opened his mouth and Avah almost turned around in shame.

“Oy, dis boy dund felled down Doug’s diggin hole. You uhkay little one?” He reached down to help the boy up. Kimbal took hold of the man’s hand and he was yanked up with such stupid strength that he swore it popped his arm out of socket for a moment.

Kimbal rubbed at his sore shoulder and stared up at the rock of a man as he picked up his stray shovel and came back over to the group on the road. “Some people be callin me Doug. Most of em callin me Dougy. My mum and dad used ta callin me Dougeranth. I dig me some ‘oles for work. Boss tells me no more work in town. Go find monies in next city, he say. Brings him back the monies I owes em for the ‘oles I dug up round ere…”  

The group was silent. Not one of them knew how to reply. Then Dougeranth started up again.

“... Well see, I can’t do good by talkin much to people, I don’t count good lessen it wif Doug’s trusty shovel, an I get lost real easy but I can dig the most greatest ‘oles. If’n your hedded to another town I could come wiv you mayhaps. Find job diggin ‘oles. Dats what Doug good at.”

Rovin let out a deep, audible, sigh and continued on down the road.

Kimbal dusted himself off and sized the mountain of a man up again, unslung the packs that were given earlier and handed them off to him. “Yeah, you can come with us, I’m Kimbal. Kimbal The Bruise, don’t you forget it.”

Dougeranth hooked the slinged sacks in a large finger and flung them over his back. He then propped his shovel over the other side and began to walk onto the road. “I’m not the best at ‘memberin. But Doug will try.”

Auron and Avah started back off down the road with their leader. Auron shook the ashen contents of his pipe out and placed it back somewhere underneath his hide and feathered cloak. “Well, this day could not get any less eventful. What’s next? Do we come across a traveling band of circus performers missing their pet bear? The name is Auron, by the way, could care less if you remember it though.”

Avah, regardless of knowing this man's level of idiocy, caught herself swooning over his appearance once again and flushed a bit red. She turned her head back towards the road, but spoke loud enough to be heard “I’m Avah, and that over there is our fearless leader, Rovin the elf. We are off to somewhere to do gods know what. Never know when we could need a hole dug but you are welcome to come along nonetheless.”

Dougeranth joined them on the road, nodded towards Auron’s introduction, then nodded at Rovin. Then he looked at Avah with his infant-like eyes, “M’kay pretty lady!”

Avah turned her head from him; not out of flattery, but of embarrassment. “Please, don’t. Just call me Avah.”

“M’kay pretty lady!” Dougeranth assured her.

Rovin led the group, Auron close by his side. Avah stood a couple steps behind and Dougeranth and Kimbal took up the back. The odd company of strangers continued west. Towards who knows where to do gods know what.

  

_____The Foolhardy End_____

The party continued down the road for a few hours. Kimbal was obviously not a fan of silence and Dougeranth was the only person there foolish enough to participate in conversation with the hot-blooded boy.

“Well,” Dougeranth continued from earlier conversation with the boy, “Yous go three shovel wide and four shove deep ‘oles. Those be good fer big amnimal traps. Then there be one shovel deep n’ three shove wide ‘oles for sleepin’ in…”

Auron spoke up, but not contributing to the current conversation. “Looks like smoke further ahead.” They continued to walk the road west.   

“Told my sister I was going to slay a dragon, Dougy,” Kimbal interrupted, “I am going to bring her back one of it’s teeth!”

Dougeranth’s dim eyes grew large. “A dragnon toof eh? Doug wonder if’n dragnons live in great big ‘oles… Maybe hunreds of shovels deep n’ wide.”

“I think most live inside of mountains, or atop them maybe,” the boy replied.

Dougeranth made a sound of disappointment, then one of agreement to Kimbal’s logic, “But Doug think mayhaps some dragnons like deep ‘oles in the eurf…”

Suddenly Dougeranth stopped, and leaned forward almost losing balance. The group ahead had suddenly halted their procession and the stone tower of a man had nearly walked into, and over, Rovin.

Auron held up a hand in motion for them to hold position as he surveyed the road further ahead of them. A small pillar of dark smoke came up from quite a distance still. “Oh, gods,” he started, “what now?”

Avah and Rovin also looked off down the distance of road ahead of them and their demeanor became almost defensive.

In the back Dougeranth and Kimbal strained their eyes on the horizon to see what the others did. Kimbal could barely make out what looked like a man standing off on the left side of the road. He was waving his arms in the air as if to get attention from someone. “It… looks like a man…” he stated, “he is waving his arms about… And a burning wagon off to the right!”

Auron turned to the others. “Yeah, there is a man further down the road attempting to flag us down from a distance. Also, looks to be another man laying on the ground further left of him near those trees. And another prone body off on the right near the burning wagon.”

Avah nodded “Maybe there was an accident, there is a chance someone could be injured, or dead?”

Rovin remained silent.

Auron pulled out his pipe and began to pack it again but did not light it. “Maybe, or maybe it's trouble.” He looked down towards Rovin and spoke to him. “Elf, if it's fine by you I suggest you take up the back end of the group for now… Till we get up here and sort this all out.”

“Seems to be a wise decision, mercenary.” Rovin turned and walked around Dougeranth who still stood close behind him, then past Avah and beside Kimbal. “I seem to sense more excitement from the one fellow over a feeling of panic or  urgency. And as far as I can tell the man lying on the ground to the left is in no pain that I am aware of. But the body near the wagon… That one no longer lives. I am sure of it.”

Auron grunted a reply and took up the lead, short pipe held loosely between his teeth and he spoke around it, “Well we won’t know till we get there. Let's move out. Avah, Doug, get behind me and stay close. Be ready to defend yourselves if need be…” Then he glanced back at Kimbal “... and boy, you try to keep quiet and be sure not to do anything stupid or reckless.”

Kimbal mumbled as they began to walk once more in their new formation. “I’m not a boy, I know how to handle myself in a brawl!”

No reply came back from Auron, and Avah shot a teasing tone towards the back. “I would not test the man's patience any further if I were you, kid. Just grab hold of reality for a little while and behave will ya?”

Eventually the smell of burning wood, lacquer, and cloth met them as they came closer to the sight of the wagon accident. The body near the wagon was that of an old woman’s. She lay on her side, eyes open and empty oh Rhun. Blood matted the top of her silver hair and wrinkled face. The man lying to the left held his side, groaning with discomfort.

The stranger that was flagging them down from a distance jogged up to meet them halfway and was about to speak when Auron stepped up with his hand held out in motion for the stranger to come no further. “No need to come any further, what has happened here?”

The stranger stopped in his tracks. He was balding, somewhere in his middle ages. A long scar ran down the right side of his jaw and his nose was pierced through its middle with a metal ring. He was dressed like one accustomed to traveling. The man spoke up, addressing Auron and the other two directly visible behind him. “Well, look man! We were attacked by roving bandits as we made our way to Haveran. They killt my poor ma’ and shanked ‘ol Patsy over there! Took our stuff and left on the winds they came in on. Please mister, fellas, you gotta help me here. Patsy’s not doin’ so well…”

As if cued to begin, the injured Patsy began to groan even louder and clutch ever harder at his lower abdomen.

Auron did not move. Nor did he reply. The group followed his lead, even Kimbal remained silent, more out of suspense then obedience.  The fire from the burning wagon continued to roar. The cool autumn breeze mixed with the heat of the fire and smoke and cast lukewarm air across the people on the road. Auron continued to stare and not speak. Eventually the silence became unnatural and the stranger started to show signs of uneasiness or frustration. Even the Patsy fellow’s groans almost came to a complete end.

Both strangers now stared at Auron, and in an almost panicked tone of frustration over emergency, he broke the silence. “Look my buddy could die, man! I can’t lose him and….. ah… f**k it!” He threw his arms up in futility and brought one hand back down to his mouth, letting out a sharp whistle. “Looks like this group don’t wanna play along, boys, come on out!”

The ‘injured’ man by the name of Patsy stopped rolling on the ground and stood up, pulling a knife out from where he had been covering up with his hands earlier. The man in the street produced a short sword in his left hand and a hatchet in his right. Three other men, armed with the intent to cause pain and dismemberment, came out from the cover of the trees.

“Well, well, well. You are smarter than most sheep on these roads aren’t cha?” the leader stated.

“What we gonna do Ross?” the odd looking man named Patsy mused. “Kill ‘em and take their stuff too?”

The bandit boss Ross kept at the ready. “No, boys. I think we let these ones go… that is, after they have paid us the inconvenience caused while we are conducting our own business.”

“Yeah,” piped up Patsy in a shrill, cracked, voice. “Be kind enough to empty your purses for us sirs… and madam.” Patsy sized Avah up and down an expression of sick wanting plastered on his ugly, toothless, grin. “And your clothes while you're at it!”

“Now, now, my dear Patsy. Lets not make things more complicated than they already are. Look, fella. Just empty out your pockets of any gold or valuables you might have on you and we will go on our way, no harm done.”

Auron took the unlit pipe out of his mouth and spoke up in a steady voice. “And if we don’t?”

Ross the bandit boss shot up a maniacal chuckle. Patsy and the others half-heartedly joined in and then the laughing stopped. “Well, good buddy of mine, if’n ya don’t hand over all your gold and belongings promptly you will all be meeting your makers…”and he glanced over at Avah also with a sick grin on his homely face “and I dare say this sweet one might get a few going away presents before we send her off---.”

Auron tucked his pipe back under his cloak as Ross finished his sentence and his crew started up another fit of laughter. Auron moved like a blur and was upon the bandit boss in the blink of an eye. In that split second the bandit leader gazed down at his stomach. The mercenary's deadly long blade was sticking out if it now. The rush of pain ran through his body as sharp steel pierced through organs and the middle of his spine. Ross’s face shot up towards the sky from shock of pain so great, then came back down to see the bringer of his end. His eyes just inches away from Auron’s stone cold face. His legs lost all feeling… then Auron blew upon Ross’s face gently as if blowing away a stray eyelash and he crumpled down into oblivion.

Before the newly deceased Ross could meet the ground with sword still lodged in his belly, Auron’s left arm shot up and a brass knuckled fist met the ugly face of Patsy. What little teeth the bandit did have now flew into the air as the cracking of bone sounded in the fire-warmed air of autumn.

T.K.O.

Now catching up with the unexpected initiation of battle, the other three men ran past the deadly mercenary to extract revenge on some of the less-deadly looking of the party.

One came towards Avah, a large wooden club raised over his head. He screamed, full of adrenaline, towards her. But, as he picked up speed in his advance, Avah seemed to glide right past and behind him, like skating upon an icy lake. The large club came crashing down to make contact with nothing but the ground at his feet. She then gave him a swift jab in the kidney. The hulking bandit arched backward and let out a yelp of pain. Then in a fluid motion, Avah brought her hands up to the bandit's head and twisted it with break-neck speed. The sound of snapping spinal column unmistakable. The bandit fell forward to his knees, gurgling out his last breath, then collapsing face first in the dirt next to his large club.

Another made his way towards the boy. Kimbal fumbled to get the hunting knife out of its sheath but the bandit was upon him before he could fully expose it. Rovin stepped aside and just stood there as if observing the whole event like a sport he was never keen on watching, let alone participating in. The hands of the bandit made way to Kimbal’s throat and began to tighten.

Blood rushed up into Kimbal’s face. The violent crazed bandit started to tighten his grip around Kimbal’s neck and he felt his windpipe start to close. His face felt like it was beginning to swell, his eyes began to bulge and he clawed frantically at the bandit’s face trying to get his fingers into the man’s eyes. Tears welled up in his purpling face Is this how I die? Beneath this ugly drooling brute? NO! I will not allow it. I will fight! He pulled his knife out of the sheath but darkness and panic were beginning to overtake him. He began to feel himself fading into complete darkness and he still flailed about in refusal to give in.

Rovin moved his hand out and touched the bandit straddled over Kimbal’s frantically flailing body. He sent his Rhun out, enveloping the man’s skin. In his mind he thought upon sensations of searing pain. The bandit threw his hands off the boy and up in the air in surprise, screaming as if a large cauldron of boiling tar had been spilled over every inch of his body. Kimbal coughed for air, then vomited.

Before Auron even turned to look towards the direction of the bandit’s painful cries he swiftly brought out from under his cloak a small crossbow and extended his arm out behind him in the direction of the sound. A swift sound zipped through the air and halted at the bandit’s head. Crossbow bolt into one side of his ear and out the other. Another bandit bit the dust. Dead, instantly.

While all this happened the last of the bandits charged towards Dougeranth. A quarterstaff whistled through the air wielded by capable, well practiced, bandit hands. As he moved in close enough to bring his pole around in a full arc into Dougeranth’s head, the muscle-bound Doug had lowered his shovel and shot dirt up into the man’s open mouth and eyes. Doug took this chance to bring across a final blow with the flat of his shovel up against the stunned assailant's head. The sound of metal mashing hard bone into little bits erupted. If the unfortunate bandit’s head was not securely attached to his neck and shoulders the raw power and force of Dougeranth’s shovel blow would have sent it flying quite a distance. Instead, the man’s body followed the path of the shovel all the way through causing him to somersault sideways into the air before falling dead onto the road.

Avah placed a foot down upon her prey’s still body and crossed her arms. She looked off into the sky for a moment and nodded, just once, with satisfaction. “So it is done,” she said to no one in particular, “teach you to f**k with me.”

Auron walked over to the first poor victim to taste from his cup of wrath and pulled his sword free. As he walked back towards the group he extended his sword arm down at an angle with trained speed and power that forced the blood upon his sword to leap off the blade and onto the dry, dusty, earth to drink it up.

Dougeranth stooped down and grabbed his own felled bandit by the hand and lifted him straight up into the air, like a dolly, in one arm. Then he raised his other hand, the one that held his sturdy shovel and softly pumped his arms up and down as if hyping up an invisible crowd of spectators. A very large, very daft, smile on his face.

Rovin stood, confidently in the center of the road next to the shaken Kimbal and dead body, skewered through the ears. He crossed his arms and gave each one of his party a look of sheer pride and satisfaction. Bringing a finger up to his nose and winking was an old elvish custom of humble congratulations and thanks. With company like this I will have no problem finding the Dream Serpent. Maybe I can finally, truly, save dear Ubis after all! For the first time in what seemed like forever Rovin felt a small spark of hope again.

Kimbal wiped his eyes and face dry with dirty sleeves and looked up at the party around him from the ground where he now sat up. Dead bandit pushed off of him and to the side, he stared at them in absolute awe. Each of them handled their enemy like they were a ninny. Then he felt a pang of shame as he recalled how little he had done to help during the entire ordeal. That bandit would have killed him for sure. If not for Lord elf Rovin and Auron. He looked over towards Rovin in shame.

As if knowing what the boy was thinking, Rovin moved his gaze over towards where the kabab-headed bandit lay. Kimbal followed his gaze till it met sight of his hunting knife! Somehow, in the panic of it all he must have finally freed his knife and shoved it into the lower back-side of his attacker. It now sat beside the dead man near a wound the exact size as his knife. But I was still of little help, Kimbal lamented.

The roaring fire of the wagon had died down to a few fires in what little parts remained yet charred. Dougeranth dropped the rag doll of a man back to the ground and lifted the boy to his feet like picking up an apple on its side and placing it right side up again. Kimbal reached down and picked up his father’s hunting knife, cleaned it off on the side of his dusty pants, and resheathed it.

Auron looked over at everyone as they now stood together in the center of the road. He fished out his packed pipe from earlier and finally went to light it, its smoke mixing in the wind with the wagon fire smoke. “I think it best that we move off the road and make camp further due north-west before sunset,” tendrils of smoke snaked from his nostrils from another drag, “the law men of this kingdom occasionally travel this road and I would hate to be around to bother describing this to anyone.”

Somehow, within the short time it took Auron to speak, Dougeranth had moved off to the side of the road and dug four shallow graves. The party turned to see him standing by the finished graves without a sweat on his brow.

Avah started to drag one of the fallen bandits into a hole. “You know… Dougy. You have only dug four graves but there are six bodies.”

Dougeranth raised a hand up behind his head and he scratched at it real bashful like. “Well, preddy lady,” He started “I guess we gots one that dun nuffin’ wrong sept get kilt by dems bullies. She mayhap be seen, ya know, fer family and sech. An’ da other just be sleeping heavy.” He glanced over at Patsy. Toothless, homely, out cold, Patsy.

Avah raised her eyebrows at him in pleasant surprise. So the oaf ain't all dumb, she fancied, but still… She checked out his shirtless and short pantsed physique, well no one can just have it all, then turned back to nudge the dead guy in with her foot. Rovin and Kimbal moved a body over, then Auron and Avah again. The graves were filled back and packed with dirt as quickly as the dirt had been removed.

Each member marveled at the godlike prowess for moving earth that Doug possessed. Only Rovin was the one that saw that it was attributed to the muscle boy’s Rhun. He had only noticed such concentrated power few times before. But if he in fact is…. he began to think, how remarkable!

Lest anyone spit on the graves the members all turned off the road and headed north-west. They continued to walk until close to sunset. They found a small gathering of trees in the vast field that stretched out before them. The road now far from sight. They unburdened themselves, especially Doug with the extra packs he now carried, and began to set up camp.

***

Some of the brighter stars in the sky began to appear as the sun bid its farewell below the horizon. Auron crouched down near the center of the camp they had laid out and began to rub wooden fibers off the back of tree bark he had gathered at his feet. His pipe hung loose between his teeth, tendrils of smoke ran from his nostrils and mouth as he bundled up the fibers and laid them upon a larger piece of bark he had saved off to the side. Turning the pipe upside down in his mouth he shook it a couple times to release its still burning contents onto the tinder and blew on it lightly between cradled hands. The lit tinder was placed under some kindling and a dried log, then Auron stood up and walked over to a thinning, leaf-barren tree outside the camp circle and unslung the boar spear from around his back and propped it there.

To the opposite side of Auron a small hole was freshly dug. One shovel deep and three shovels wide just like Dougeranth preferred it for sleep. The tip of his smooth, shiny bald head and pair of green dim eyes peeked out from the hole’s rim. Pleased with his work, he stretched his muscular arms across the ground in front of him and pulled himself up chest high to join his crew on the surface world.

Kimbal, still in slight shock from the event earlier and also in silent reverence and awe of Auron’s display of physical combat, moved to sit upon a downed log not far from where Auron went about making himself a place to lay up and sleep. He removed his father’s hunting knife and tried to remove some of the dried blood that remained there. A deep pang of guilt built up in his stomach like a soft sickness as he recalled that he was supposed to bring it to his father earlier that day. Instead he had fled not just his responsibility to the family but his home town itself to embark on his journey. His destiny with the elf and company. He missed home, he missed his father, mother, sisters and friends. Homesickness that made him so anxious grew so much that he felt like he needed to vomit, he felt like he needed to cry. He remembered the bet Auron had made earlier that day and quickly picked up a piece of wood at his feet and began to whittle at it with the knife, trying hard to seem more occupied with his new project than the light dampness that was collecting at his eyelids. Bruises in the shape of hands were visible around his neck and it hurt just as much to swallow as it did to keep his shame within. He could not give Auron the satisfaction of winning that wager and he avoided looking up in his direction even when he felt like the stone-cold man’s eye was upon him.

Avah had laid out a nice blanket woven as a parting gift to the elf from one of the humble townswomen of Haveran. She shifted the length of her rope-like black hair from around her shoulder and placed it into her lap in front of her as she reclined back on the rest of the traveling packs unloaded by Doug. She then set to work looking over her braid. The campfire caught well and she removed her boots and stretched her stockinged feet out towards its warmth.

Rovin moved across the fire and sat down upon the cold dirty earth, bare-assed. He rummaged into his thick beard, pulled out a loaf of bread and began to peel and eat the skin from around it.

Avah watched him with a hint of amusement mixed with confusion. Then she decided to speak up. “Hey, elf. Why is it you only eat the crust off the bread? You waste the entire loaf that way. No one wants a skinless loaf, ya oaf.” she teased.

“I like just the middle of the bread,” Kimbal piped up, “I think the crust is disgusting.”

Avah cast a sarcastic glance over to the boy in response and Rovin made a slightly amused exhalation and continued to pick off the bread crust till it was all gone and then tossed it over towards Kimbal.

Now dry-eyed, The Bruise dropped his knife and whittling stick to catch the bread loaf sans crust. He nodded towards the elf as if he was given one of the greatest gifts ever bestowed upon someone and he began to eat upon it eagerly. Even with the pain of his damaged neck the boy’s hunger did not stop him from scarfing it down mouthful by mouthful.

As Kimbal ate his prized possession, Auron slowly rose from his spot against the tree and moved over towards the boy. He paused from eating the last of his bread as he watched the one-eyed mercenary swiftly stoop down and pick the boy’s hunting knife up off of the ground and heft it in his right hand.

“This is a nice piece of craftsmanship you have here boy,” he spoke to the boy in no particular fashion, “this is yours I take it?”

Kimbal swallowed down the last bit of bread he had been munching on, this time with difficulty from growing nervousness. “Yes… Well, no,” he started trying to keep from making direct eye contact with his interrogator. “Ya see, the knife is my father's, but he gave it to me before I left.”

“As a going away gift?” Auron pried, as if giving the boy the easy way out. Knowing he would not admit to leaving his home without permission.

“... Yeah… Yes. Father gave it to me and told me to go make him proud. And that is what I am going to do.” His voice took on a stronger tone than that of the true emotions that swam around his gut.

Auron continued to heft the hunting blade in his hand as he walked off back towards the bare tree he had claimed as his lean-to for the night. “You thinking after the scrap we had today that you're ready for what else is out there? Things more grim and sinister?”

The boy was silent. The camp remained silent aside from the soft and soothing crackle of the small campfire.

“Yeah….” he started then the hand shaped bruises on his neck brought back a pang of reality “... no… I don’t know. I want to. I have to… When that bandit came towards me today… I was afraid. I panicked. Then you and Rovin had to save me…” he held back tears again and picked up the stick he was carving on and started to draw into the dirt with it. It started to seem as if Auron was trying to bring the boy’s shame out into the open, to embarrass the poor kid even.

Then, still facing away from the boy Auron glanced down at the blade and rubbed his thumb against some of the dried blood that remained there. “This is not your blood on the knife is it?” His normally cold voice now had a slight warmth to it like the fire that kept the autumn’s brisk night air at bay.

“Well, in the midsts of it all; yeah, I did get him in the back a little. But if I was not….” he trailed off, embarrassed of what he was about to admit “if I was not afraid. I would have killed him like you did. I would not have needed yours… or Rovin’s help. The bandit charged me, I was afraid for my life. Afraid my story was going to end right there. And now I worry that I am not meant to be here with you all. I can’t do what you do…” and he looked at the others: Rovin’s curious black eyes, to Avahs soft bright blue and silver ones, then over towards Dougeranth’s dim green. “What you all do. Maybe I should just head back home tomorrow. You were right.”

No one spoke up to encourage him to stay. They all stared at him in amused silence and then Auron leaned up against his tree and began to flip the knife into the air and back into his hand. Each juggle seemed to be as easy to him as breathing. “Whether you decide to go home tomorrow or continue to follow us, which is your choice alone, I wish to impart some old timer’s wisdom and see how it settles with you, kid.” The knife flew higher up into the night air, out of the sight of most  of the campers and back down safely into his right hand. He continued to do this as he spoke. “The thing with fear is that it is easy to recognize, most of us are aware when it makes its presence known. But recognizing fear and knowing fear are two very different things. And you have two choices when you begin to know fear for what it is: you can cower beneath it and become the victim, or you can take that fear, make it your own, and strike out against it. One day, boy, you will encounter true fear. You will recognize it and you will know it. And when that time comes you will either fall before its feet, vanquished, or you will use that very fear against itself and arise victorious…” All of a sudden, in less time than it takes to blink, the knife landed from the night sky back into his hand and was sent flying across the camp. Kimbal’s hunting knife cut through the air in a flash and landed blade first underneath the boy’s family jewels.

Wide-eyed, Kimbal The Bruise looked up at Auron as he made an amused grunt and reclined back down against the tree once more. He dug into a small traveling pack of his and pulled out some dried venison to snack on.

“Burnin’ blazes hot fire!” Dougeranth shouted out. He began to clap as if to encourage an encore.        

Rovin let out a small chuckle, more like a short breath.

Avah breathed in a quick breath of excitement and then let out a mirthful laugh. “The Bruise is going to have to overcome his fear of you before that ever happens!” She tossed a small stone towards the boy’s knee and it jerked him free of the trance held over him by the knife that now stuck half into the log, beneath the boy’s bait and tackle.

The crew ate their own respective meals from the care packages respectfully given to them from the Haveran citizens. Dougeranth reached with a little effort towards a bag that lay in the pile of luggage Avah reclined beside. As he slid back into the hole the stack of bags, sacks, and packages toppled and Avah quickly corrected herself with her arm to remain in a reclined position. She glared towards Doug’s hole in agitation as she watched an occasional fruit or vegetable leap out of the hole and onto the ground outside.

Avah let out a sigh, “Ya damned brute.” she muttered. She leaned back over to face Rovin. She moved to lay down on her stomach and perched her head atop two fists under her chin. Her freshly groomed and re-tightened braid wrapped several times loosely around her neck as if in the purpose of a scarf. “You don’t speak much do you, old one?”

He turned his head to look upon her, his face in the usual stoic position. There was no reply.

Go figure.

Avah did not let that deter her from conversation, “So, you sat on a rock for a real long time. I heard about you before, about Haveran, when I still lived in the eastern forests of Ninoa. The elf that sat upon a rock, staring off into nothingness, watching over and protecting the quaint town of Haveran. Ya know, I had heard enough stories from travelers and the like that I fancy that I had a dream or two about you sitting on that rock in the middle of town. Just staaaaaaaaaring oooofff…” She trailed off and then came back in from nowhere with a different energy all together. “Ya did something bad huh?” She said more rhetorically “Well, whether you decide to tell us eventually or not, the longer we stick around the more we are bound to find out anyway, old timer.”

Still, no reply... But wait. He took in a shallow breath and spoke, loud enough for all to hear, “Rhun… We are all like tiny breaks in a great river, you and I. An individual stream that flows from its great point of origin. Every stream runs a path of least resistance. Their path is never predetermined by gods or fates but by the layout of land carved by time itself. Each stream moves across this landscape and winds down this path in, often times, unpredictable ways.  Some of us have small, short streams. Others of us swell and flood the earth before us, removing any obstacle in its path…” He looked at each of them and shrugged. Then he dug back into his beard and removed the wooden box he kept so close to him. Ubis, his disciple. He seemed to now ignore the others and turned his attention to his box of bones. “What was the deal with that beet soup, eh? Aside from the fly there was something odd about it….” He faded off into thought. Doug blinked, bewildered, and returned to his hole. It soon became apparent he was quick to slumber as a deep snoring echoed out of the hole like a great beast growling.

The rest settled into bed. Auron lay half awake. The elf looked off towards the east and waited for the new day to eventually, and predictably, rise.

***

A light dew had fallen upon the members that night. Rovin had silently baby-sat the campfire throughout the night, and warmth with a sprinkle of chills woke most of the members from sleep. All except Dougeranth who, as Rovin and Auron could attest to him doing all through the night, continued to snore. Auron began to collect his things and moved over to the camp fire to bury it. The sudden creeping of frigid autumn morning air began to match the cold, damp, dew on the party and brought them all to a brisk full awakening. The others went about collecting their things and covering up any traces of camping.

Avah moved the luggage she reclined upon that night over to the edge of Dougeranth’s sleeping hole and tossed them down upon the roaring beast. He awoke with a surprised shout. “Oy, fellas! The sky be fallin on Doug! Bags of food n fings! Glory be!” A shovel emerged from the hole followed by Dougeranth now packed up like a great mule. “Doug can’t wait to be makin’ any good ‘oles today. We goin’ to uh town ta’day?”

Auron slung his lanyard boar spear back around him and gathered up his own small pack and the rolled blanket he used the night before. He pointed out further north west. “We journey a little further this way, towards a city called Vernom. A kingdom under direct rule to the Kinfolk of Ifrim, the flame.” He looked toward Avah, who was of kinfolk blood and she gave no acknowledgement toward his statement, “It is one of the oldest cities in this region and I wager if Rovin needs to do some snooping or figuring out that would be a good place to start.” He looked over towards the titan of a man that walked up next to him. “Doug, fill your hole back up for gods sakes!” Doug went off, abashed, to do Auron’s bidding then the mercenary continued, “If we remain off the roads to avoid any further delays by that of traveling lawmen or vindictive buddies from yesterday’s bandits then we have a chance of coming to a great canyon called Tildman’s Folly. I know there to be a few rope bridges across it to the other side. We will then continue west until we reach Vernom. With a steady pace we can reach the city by nightfall of this very day.”

Rovin spoke up towards Doug and then the rest of the party, “Doug, at some point I will need to request your services. I have one stop we need to make on our way towards the canyon. Auron, I will take the lead till we get there.”

Auron motioned with both his hands towards the front of the group and the rest gathered together to continue their trek across the great expanse of field know by the locals as Tildman Ways.

The hours moved by with the steady pace of the group. They covered much ground in that time and then Rovin began to slow in pace. The group slowed down with him as they watched the bearded child survey the land before him. Then he took a slight left and picked up pace. Within a few yards there sat a stone. Not much bigger than an apple, it sat in the sparsely weeded field strangely out of place. Rovin made his way over to the stone, picked it up, and glanced at Dougeranth. “Doug, if you’d please,” he motioned to the ground beneath him, “dig a hole right around here.”

Without another command or request to be had, Dougeranth hefted the great shovel in his hands and set to work on the ground Rovin had moved away from with haste. The very earth beneath the muscle-bound man shot up and out of his shovel with rapid tempo. Within seconds, only Doug’s bald head could be seen from the top. The dirt stopped flying and sounds of rummaging came from the hole. “Aye, guys! Doug found a bag, ‘snot foods tho. Be hard shiny metals and rocks! Pretty… Ouch!” It sounded like he had something in his mouth. “Doug can’t eat them though, they no good.” A bag was tossed out of the hole with distaste; gold and silver coins, diamonds and precious cut gems spilled out onto the ground at Rovin’s feet. He bent down to recollect them in the sack as Doug got back out of the hole and filled it back up, even placing the rock back in its place.

Avah came over and picked the bag of treasures up. “I’ll be… There has got to be enough here to feed an army!”

Dough grunted in disagreement, “Doug already say. Them no good for eatin.”

“No, ya muscle brain… hunk. You can buy food, anything, with it. You don’t eat it.”

“Oh, monies! Doug never seent monies I just maked it for my boss. He said my monies was meets n tatoes. He keeped the useless monies, I gots the eating monies…. Dong not need metals and stones.”

Auron came over to Avah and hefted the load over his shoulder. She did not mind in the least, it was heavy. “Well,” Auron spoke, “you leave these useless metals and rocks to me, then, you can keep your meets n tatoes.” He looked off west. In the distance it seemed like the earth just stopped. “Not far from here is Tildman’s Folly Canyon. When we reach it we will head south and hopefully come across one of the rope bridges that cross it. Shall we?”

Auron now took up the lead with Rovin by his side. Avah, Dougeranth, and Kimbal took up the rear.

As they made their way towards the canyon, short moments of silence were broken only by the adolescent conversation between Doug and The Bruise.

“If’n I dug an ‘ole that deep Doug not sure what be on the other side. Methinks more dirt.”

“Yeah but what if you dug so far that you reached an end. Like the bottom of a table. And then there was just nothing. And you fell forever and ever and ever… and ever and ever… and…”

“Oh! Blazin burnin fires! Don’t dare say dem fings Bruise! Doug know deep down be more dirt. It goes forever. What be holdin da dirt anyways but more dirt!”

“.... Good point.” Kimbal agreed.

Soon the canyon was before them. In some parts the other side was close enough to sling a rock across to it. In others the chasm opened far and wide, visible only nearing the horizon. To either side of them the canyon unfolded far past the vision of any that looked. Glancing down from their vantage point on the rim, clouds reminiscent of fog obscured the true depth of the canyon. To look down would be overwhelming to most. Great, cold, gusts of wind whipped up from the giant crack in the earth, and the high pitched whistles of air running past steep rock sounded like voices moaning in eternal sadness and agony.

Kimbal wrapped his arms around himself tightly to keep in his warmth as the cold gusts blew up and over them. He moved a little further back from the edge and shuddered. Fear eh, I think I might be getting a case of that right now.

“Over there,” Avah pointed south, “a rope bridge you mentioned is just a ways off.”

The group resituated their burdens and approached the rope bridge that stretched off towards the other side of the divide.

Auron moved closer to its entrance and looked the rope bridge over for a minute. The others stood a few steps back in silence as they awaited his deliberation.

Auron grunted a sound of displeasure and agitation, “This won’t do. Some of these bridges are old, they are not as dependable as they used to be, and this is one of them. I suggest we move just a little further north till we cross one that is new, maybe even crossing less of a gap…” He walked back towards the group that now formed a half-circle facing away from the derelict bridge.

“Doug no mind deep places, this bein the biggest an longest ‘ole Doug ever seen. Need one big shovel to make an ‘ole like dis.”

“Well, I would rather us cross where we know it to be safe than risk injury… or worse.” Avah started, “but if we move any further north we will be going further from Vernom than planned. We might not reach the city till morning of the next day, if we were to keep walking….”

The elf spoke up then, “I feel this is easily settled then, punctuality aside, it is best if we move further up north to take a steadier, more dependable bridge. Auron, Avah, Doug, Kimbal….” He looked around the half circle for Kimbal but he was not there. He must have moved away in the middle of their deliberation. The group turned to catch sight of him and they all froze in place. Avah’s mouth became agape and she quickly closed her mouth and turned to stare towards the bridge with the others.

Kimbal had moved out onto the rickety rope bridge by a few paces. His back turned to the group as he stepped out a little more, resituated himself, and turned around to greet them all with a big grin on his face. “Guys, the bridge is just fine. Weren’t you the one that said we have to conquer our fears, Auron?” He jostled the ropes a little with his arms and the bridge swayed and creaked a little. Nothing drastic but the others were very concerned now.

Auron spoke, a cool and steady voice almost troubled with a hint of unrealized urgency or desperation. “Kimbal, you damned fool. Come back here before you fall victim to your own stupidity!”

Avah chimed in, “Look, kid. Get your a*s back here, we are going north to find a safer route. We are leaving now,” she bluffed, “we won’t mind leaving your moronic behavior behind, now come on!”

Rovin remained silent and Doug placed two hands over his surprised expression.

Kimbal was sure just by being out on the rope bridge that it was safe for them all to cross. He would have been more fearful had it not been for the fact that the excitement of real adventure had overtaken him. He felt like this was his moment to overcome. His moment to take the fear he had and vanquish it with great courage. “No,” the boy called Avah’s bluff, “we can cross here and still make it to Vernom in time! None of us want to walk all night and into morning do they? Auron, for someone as brave as you claim to be you sure you are not just afraid of heights?” He laughed and shook at the ropes again.

Auron took a step closer to the rope bridge. As it jostled around from the boy’s movements and the wind whipping up through the fissure he could hear, by experienced ear, the sound of tension building on the ropes. He reached underneath his feather and hide cloak, “Kimbal, you stupid twit. Get back here before the bridge gives ou….”

Before he could finish his last word his worries came true. Sounds like whips cracking into the air shot off one at a time. The bridge gave out and Kimbal began to fall with it. Before the bridge and boy made it below the canyon rim Auron shot out an arm and casted a grappling rope out towards Kimbal. They waited with bated breath as the rope continued to drop along with the bridge and The Bruise. The slack on Aurons rope became instantly taught. Auron sighed in relief and he started to hold tightly as he crept forward and start to pull up line. Doug came behind him and it almost became like a bull playing tug of war with a baby. But only for a short moment did everything seem okay. The line became slack again. They heard the boy scream.

*******

Kimbal had felt as his heart leapt into his stomach and the steadiness of rope below his feet become an illusion. All feelings of greatness left him as if lifted by the winds that now rushed up below his feet. He saw the grappling hook line shoot out from Auron’s extended arm as he fell and he reach out in desperation to meet it. Auron’s throw was accurate but Kimbal only caught hold of the line after the hook struck his chest, knocking the wind out of him for a moment. He grabbed ahold of the rope for dear life and felt the rope tighten. His grip was not tight enough to counter the jerking of his body downwards and flesh from his hands now lined the rope as if it were red and white wax. The pain was too great from the rope burn and he let go with both hands. Then he let out a great scream of pain.

The wind rushed up past him and though its force seemed to slow his fall ever so slightly he fell at a rapid speed. Soon he watched as the heads of his companions came up from the edge of the canyon, unwilling spectators to his very own undoing. They looked as if pinheads in the distance now as air rushed past him at great speed. Then the whiteness took over.

Kimbal had never been more afraid in his life. Because now, he knew his death was coming. Soon, in fact this very day. He did not want to die. His foolhardy attitude had finally come to collect his dues. But a bump here or a bruise there was not what was in store for Kimbal. Somewhere, somewhen, the ground below waited for him and he would be cracked egg all over the kitchen floor. Fear so great built up inside of him and pure panic struggled to take over. In those last moments, Kimbal looked back upon the things he would miss, the new friends he had made, the great things he would have done, and then upon what Auron had told him just last night. This was his moment. The moment of great fear he said would come to him one day, he just never imagined it to be so soon, or in this fashion. He realized the fear of his death and he began to truly understand. Whether in fear or in courage death claims every soul. He had a choice to go out in worry, fear, and self-pity. Or he could calm his mind, think on the kinder things before his demise, and face the end with courage and clarity. As he continued towards the death of his own doing, the only thing he regretted was truly becoming a man only moments before his death. He closed his eyes in silence and faced his final moments with peace in his mind.

*******

  The crew above rushed over towards the edge. They all got on their bellies and peered over as they watched Kimbal The Bruise fall to the size of a small figurine and soon become enveloped by the white clouds below.

Avah noticed that she had an arm outstretched towards the boy, and that she could no longer hear his screams but noticed the sound of her own. She held back tears of sadness and frustration, “What… the…”

“F**k.” Auron finished. He got up on his knees and began to dust himself off.

“Gods damn it all, that stupid shithead.”

Rovin, still looking over the edge for a moment felt a great release of Rhun come up with the winds and he took in a deep breath. “Celery seed.” He said as he got up with Avah to walk towards Auron, who was packing his pipe once again.

“What’s that?” Auron asked.

“It was missing celery seed I am sure of it…” With that he started off north to  search for a sturdier bridge for them to cross.

Doug was the last to come up from the edge of the canyon and he ran after them, shovel in hand, “Oy, yas thinkin we might get down der and ‘elp The Bruise back up, Doug sures ‘e must be hurting something bad after that fall.”

Avah held more sadness out of pity for the boy than of fond memories of him, but the pain of seeing such a young and vivacious life gone so quickly was something to mourn to oneself for a short duration, she was sure. “We are not going to get him Dougy, Kimbal is gone. We have to move on.”

Dougheranth caught up with the others and they headed further up the canyon towards the north where they found a proper short and sturdy rope bridge to cross with ease and they headed on the long trek back south towards morning of the next day in silence. Towards Vernom, great city of the Ifrim Kinfolk.