A Startling Discovery and a Rumor of War

Bishop Mon-Durgoth woke with a start, throwing his fist into the air in front of him.

“Whoa, settle down big boy,” a child like voice spoke. 
“Yer gonna wear your self out again, that sleeping powder sure took it ouda ya. Should’ve seen yourself, one moment fighting like a champ, then, BANG, flat on ya back like a tortoise dragon in trouble.” He giggled.

Bishop took a deep breath, stretched, and looked about to see where he had ended. He was safely in the room that he had hired the night before. The walls and floors were made of varnished wooden floorboards and the room smelled like dried rose petals. It smelled fresh as bishop suspected it hadn’t been used in a while. The warrior squinted as the sun shone bright through the window sending sharp stabbing pains through to the back of his eyes. Bishop guessed it was near noon.

“Alas!” Bish cursed in sudden realization. “Ill be behind schedule!”

He sat straight up in the half-made bed. Bishop immediately regretted doing so. His head ached and the room spun. He leaned over the side of the bed and emptied his stomach onto the wooden floorboards.

“Whoa! Do you want a doggie bag for that or what?” the annoying little voice suggested.

“Or maybe a leash, you could name it Chucky, and take it for walks” he giggled again.

Bishop searched the spinning room for the source of the voice; his eyes filled with anxiety as they fixed upon Malingrad the halfling.

‘I should have known,’ he thought to himself, groaning as the ill warrior rolled back into the middle of his bed. He said naught but three words, a question, and it was one that he wished he hadn’t asked.

“Mal, what happened?” he asked in an irritable tone whilst rubbing his dried eyes.

“Oh, Bish, I’m so, so, so glad that you asked… it’s a fantabulously wonderful story you see!”

Mal loved telling stories. Telling them was what he was second best at, behind lock picking of course. Malingrad Thimblethumb made himself comfortable in the chair beside the bed and began to recite the night’s happenings.

“Well lets start where you fell on the table of cups and bowls,” Mal began as Bish absent-mindedly rubbed his ribcage in remembrance.

“The crowd was up in a roar that night. The bards will tell of the old drunk who beat the evil warrior for ages to come.” Malingrad added some depth to his story. “The warrior fell, landed upon the table and nearly broke it in two... actually he did break it in two!” he over exaggerated.

“The crowd went wild with laughter, as the old drunk closed in for the kill. But before the man could finish the job at hand, a tall slender figure stood from the now broken table and stopped the drunk dead in his tracks. The crowd stopped too.” Mal stopped in a thoughtful pause. He then added, “I guess they noticed something that I didn’t.” The halfling scratched his head in thoughtfulness.

“He wore a brown hooded cloak, as did his three seated companions. All of their faces were hidden well within the blackness of their hoods,” at this Mal was standing upon his chair, desperately trying to make himself look taller, and had his own traveling cloak drawn over his head. This was his favorite part, when he would really get into his story and divulge his spectacular twist.

“The one standing said something over his shoulder to the other three, but I could not understand it. I ain’t never heard such tongue before, something about shikalokoos or shakalakahs or something like that. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, because what came next would knock ya to ya knees again Bish!” Mal took a breath in his over excited manner.

“The thunder and lightning roared outside, you see, and the wind blew wild. A gust of wind rushed straight through the inn’s doors and sent the place into a windstorm of it’s own. The crowd ducked and shielded their faces for cover at the sudden wind attack, but I didn’t. The action was way too enthralling. Then a flash of lightning lit the place up, as the tall man’s hood blew half off, showing me enough of his face to realize!” Malingrad was beginning to hyperventilate with all of the excitement that he was reliving. “He had long dead straight silver hair, his eyes almond shaped and his ears! They were tall and pointy Bish! Do you know what that describes?”

“Tall, slender, pointy ears…” Bishop recited to himself pondering as Mal waited eagerly for his answer. Then, “elf? No, they have not been seen upon Dealyn for an age. But what else?” he quizzed himself, “An elf! It must be” Bishop finally realizing the possibilities.

“Can’t guess? Elves Bish, Elves! Four of them! Though I was the only to see apparently.”

Bishop, suddenly feeling a lot better, sat up and grabbed Mal by the shoulders. He brought their faces so close together that Mal could smell the warrior’s rotten ale stained breath. 

“Are you certain, halfling?” the warrior asked intensely.

“Oh yes, quite certain! Id bet my whole pouch on it!” The halfling grinned, “want to shake on it?”

A grumble came from the far side of the room. “By the mighty god of the forge, cant a dwarf get any blasted sleep around here?” complained the rough voice, which came from under a pile of shaggy looking gray blankets.

“The dwarf!” Bishop exclaimed, memories from the night before rushing back to him. “Alas, Ill deal with him later, right now you have to show me these elves, Mal. Are they still about the Inn?”

“Sure, well they should be, can we meet them? Oh Bish, I have never met an elf before. Oh how wonderful it would it be to have a friend who was an elf!”

“Lets go Mal, now!” The warrior said sternly to the halfling as he stepped straight out of bed, still fully dressed from the night before, and headed toward the door. The excited halfling grabbed his pouches and backpack. He quickly re-spiked his black mo-hawk with grease from a small pouch in his side pocket. Malingrad then took off, skipping along gleefully behind his taller companion. 

“Well, its about bloody time.” Dagran mumbled roughly, “Maybe, just maybe, I might be able to get a little shut-eye now, damn halfling.” And the grumpy old dwarf finally got his slumber. For the time being anyhow.

*****

For the whole trip down to the common room, Mal filled in the holes in his story; how bishop was dragged up stairs by the barmaid and the fat old cook, and how the dwarf came to rest in their room also. The common room was situated one level down stairs from where their rented room was located. 

Malingrad quickly pointed out the group of four who were still sitting at the table.

“You think they have moved at all since last night or just still sitting there, sipping their expensive wine?” Bish asked Mal.

“I would say that they ain’t moved a budge,” he replied. “Don’t look like they are talking much either, just sitting there, like they are like they are waiting for someone, or something.”

Bishop and his pint sized companion sat down at the bar. The barmaid, whom had flirted with Bish only last night, gave an evil glare in his direction. She stood there awaiting his order for drinks.

“Oh, um just two ales thanks,” he cottoned on. Aleesha nodded and poured the two mugs.

“That’ll be ten silvers,” She said after roughly slamming the mugs in front of the two.

“Ten?!” Bishop spat his mouthful of ale over Aleesha’s dress, “What kind of robbery is this?”

“It makes us even for the damage you did last night, pickle head!” she replied and pointed to a large pile of broken beer mugs, plates and bowls. Bishop, groaning in acceptance, handed over the ten silver coins and two more on top of that. 

“That’s for the dress.” He threw her a smile then turned his attention to the four elves seated in the far corner near the old piano.
“Quite a strange bunch huh?” Aleesha said noticing Bishop’s interest. “Hired a room, they did, not that they have used it. The four just sit there not talking just looking about every few minutes.” She paused in thought, “I think they are waiting for someone to arrive.” 

“I told ya so Bish! Pay up!” Mal spoke up. Bishop ignored him.

“Have you seen their faces at all, Aleesha?” The warrior asked, all the time wondering if she would notice that he knew her name.

She blushed as a lock of her blond hair fell in front of her face when she lowered her head. “You pay good attention Sir Warrior, you know my name yet I do not know yours.” She smiled at him with her luscious, inviting lips.

The warrior cocked one eyebrow and grinned, “I overheard your cook call for you last night, I am Bishop Mon-Durgoth of Boran.” He said in an almost noble manner. 

“Well it is a pleasure to know you, Bishop, I hope your stay is long.” She winked at him and turned about to finish her cleaning of the bar that Bishop had recently sputtered ale over. 

“Aleesha, what are they drinking?” Bish nodded toward the four hooded elves.

“Our finest wine, except for the one closest the fireplace, he drinks some sort of herbal tea concoction of his own mixed with hot water.” She eyed them, “very sweet smelling I might add.” 

“Right,” the warrior felt his ever subsiding coin pouch, he was sure it was plentiful last night. “Send them a drink each from myself, I want their attention.” He decreed. Aleesha got to work, pouring three very slim, tall ceramic cups with chilled green wine, and then went out to the kitchen, only to return with a mug of steaming hot water. She then placed the four drinks onto a large round tray and scooted off toward the elves’ table. The level of dexterity that the curvy barmaid wielded astonished Mal. She held the tray high above her head as she dodged the drunken customers from all directions, never to spill a drop. 

Aleesha placed the tray in the center of the table and Bishop saw her speak something to the group. One of the robed men turned his hooded head towards the warrior and halfling, then after a short pause he turned back to face the barmaid. Aleesha nodded and began to make her way back to the bar. 

Upon her return, Aleesha simply said, “they say their thanks and wish for you to join them,” she grinned and stroked Bishop on the arm.

“Oh boy!” Bishop heard Mal say and before he could look the halfling had made his way halfway across the common room toward the four robed ones.

“Ya had better catch up, before he steals them away from you,” Aleesha giggled

By the time that Bishop had walked the distance form the bar to the table, there were five people now seated at it. Malingrad was already halfway through one of his stories.

“We say thanks to your generosity, Warrior, yet we do not bid you to sit with us,” one of the elves closest the bar end of the table stated from below his dark brown hood.

“Then why ask me over, Sir Elf?” Bishop queried.

“Ah, very observant of you, one could only wonder who might have given that secret away,” the elf said sarcastically. The hooded head slightly turned towards the halfling, who was now telling the dramatic conclusion his story to the other three robed men. “I ask you over here to spread word. You are of Boranian blood she tells me, is that so?” he asked.

“That is so, why does one ask? What is this word you spread?” Bishop quizzed.

“The word we spread is of war,” the elf said ‘war’ in a chill and haunting voice. “I ask of you to simply carry news of this to Lord Markon of Boran by way of letter. And if he feels up to the challenge, the elves would... make do with the help of his armies.” The elf stated smugly.

“I have sorry news for you also,” Bishop thought through his wording carefully. “The late Lord Markon fell unwell two winters past, her Ladyship Lilian now rules the great city of Boran.”

At this news the elf turned toward one of his colleagues that sipped away at his herbal tea, and muttered something in his own tongue that Bishop couldn’t understand. The smaller looking hooded elf replied, and they both nodded in agreement.

“The news may travel to her also, she may do well to ally with those such as the elves,” the taller elf who, Bishop noticed, seemed to be the only who could speak the common tongue.

“This word of war, it is the first that I have heard in my travels. Where, who and when should I notify Lady Lilian that she should expect this conflict?” Bishop inquired.

“We cannot say much of it, the letter will give more detail to her Ladyship, Warrior," This last word fell in a sickly way "but that the enemy’s armies move swift through the forgotten realms, those which separate our world from the world beyond life. Already their forces are strong, and they recruit more in their transit. Where they will attack, we do not know. Who they are and from where they come, we know not. But we do know they transit and close by the day. Be swift with your news and tell none as you travel, ears and eyes lurk in all dark corners of this world. Here is a letter and some incentive if you like.” The taller hooded elf held out his hand and presented a pouch of gold and the scroll.
"200 gold peices, double that amount awaits you upon a swift reply from the Lady. Also deliver this gem," The elf held a large gem in the palm of his rather small hand, "to the wizard known as Gable the Great, also residing in Boran." The elf paused for a moment in what Bishop guessed was a thoughtful pause.
"Be sure to keep the gem safe" the hooded head turned slightly toward the halfling, "from all prying hands"

The gem sparkled with a brilliancy of all colours; it had captured Malingrad’s attention almost immediately. It was as large as the elf’s small, green-tinged palms and reflected the world’s belongings upon its uncountable number of smooth facets.

Mal’s jaw dropped as he awed uncontrollably. Bishop, who was not often one for charity even if it was pay for hard work, wanted nothing more than to caress the gem in his own palms. 

The warrior who graciously accepted the offer (and the gem) had begun to turn when the elf spoke once more. “Also, Warrior of Boran, we are in search of an artifact that has become very valuable to our kind. It looks nothing more than an ordinary, old chiseling spike, but for the red ruby encrusted within it,” the elf described.
“If you happen to come across this item in your travels we would pay very handsomely for its safe return,” he then added.

Bishop merely paused a second then began to make his way back to the bar. “Mal, its time to leave!” he yelled over his shoulder.

"Oh, really, do we have to leave right this instant Bish?" seeing the warrior's dark gaze, Malingrad added, "Well, okay, I'll go get the dwarf, I told him he could travel with us since he is heading that way"

Bishop mumbled something to himself before bidding Aleesha farewell with the promise to return. He then gathered his traveling pack and sat for one final ale.

*****

Before the sun had set, the three companions had begun their walk south along the Great Southern Road. The first snowflakes of the winter began to fall as Bishop and Malingrad wrapped themselves up inside their traveling cloaks. Dagran pulled an old blanket over his shoulders for his sued coat did not keep much warmth. Mountains to the left and desert to the right as none escaped the white blanket forming upon the ground. 

Malingrad told of stories and adventures from all over Dealyn as he jumped around and over-exaggerated like usual. Meanwhile Dagran grumbled about his numb nose and how the weather was so much better with in the safe confines of the Guardian Mountains. Bishop kept at a short distance from the others. He was relatively quiet as he just trudged ahead toward their next stop. The warrior would have normally avoided this next visit, if not for the weather and their low supplies. He cuddled his freezing body while his left hand never left his side pocket. The warrior could all but stop playing with the smooth treasure that lay safely within. The elven gem.