EQ7 - 2004 - Misty Thicket

Bards, as a rule, travel quickly. A stout walking song from a good bard can keep people moving all day, and still happy and refreshed at the end of it. But now Rokon had slung his lute over his shoulder and moved on silent feet. He did not want to alert the people he was watching to his presence, and he quietly moved a
low branch from his field of vision to view the pastoral scene before him. Sunlight glinted into his eyes as he looked down, his leather booted foot stuck out to balance on a rock.

Two figures were moving about in a small field about twenty yards from him, in a woodland clearing. Beyond the field was a cottage made from stout logs. He allowed himself a small smile as he saw the woman scold the man before returning to the house. The man continued planting seeds into the ground, pausing once to remove his straw hat and mop the sweat from his brow before continuing.

Rokon continued to watch for a while and listened to the sound of the man moving around and the chirping of the birds in the trees. He was surprised he had gone unobserved for so long, it's not many people who could sneak up on a druid in his own garden, he reflected. But then, quick as a flash, a raven landed on the branch beside his head and ruffled its feathers.
Rokon new had been spotted and stepping over the rock, walked out from under the trees and across the field towards the other man.

Roztov watched as the bard approached and called to him,
'Step in the ruts! I just planted those beans!'
Rokon did a little dance which made them both smile until he found his footing on safe ground. He soon reached the dirt-covered druid and said,
'Hello friend, it has been a while, I see you are communing with nature.'
The druid nodded and removed his wide straw hat again,
'Aye, it makes a change, I was never very good with plants, more of an animal sort of druid I suppose. But Tunare is just as happy with broad beans as she is with dire wolves.'
There was a pregnant pause as the usually talkative bard was suddenly at a loss for words.
'Well', continued Roztov, 'It must be something important, we did not part on the best of terms last time we were together. Still, come inside, a drink on a hot day is just what we need. You will find my brewing skills have improved
as well as my farming.'

The two men sat on chairs outside the cottage and Soora, the dark skinned erudite woman who owned this house and land brought them both flagons of ale. As she passed she gave Rokon a reproachful look. The bard noticed her expression and thought to himself, she doesn't want me here, but she cannot help but be a good host. She would probably serve beer to Innoruuk himself if he happened to be a guest in her house, and offer him a sandwich as well!

As she left Roztov lent over to him and whispered, 'For the love of Tunare don't call her Frontbottom like you did last time. Her name is Soora, as well you know.'
Rokon suppressed a laugh and nodded. He remembered the time Azzamanya had told him of Soora’s unflattering nickname at the Arcane Academy in Erudin, which they had both been pupils at. It had always been a jest worth sharing, in the bards estimation and he had also considered making a lewd song about the names origin, but had so far held back for fear of Soora’s wrath
.
'So how is life treating you Roz?', he asked to change the subject.
'Fine', nodded the druid, 'Everything is growing, the soil around here is good. Soora will have plenty of provisions for the winter and enough to sell as well.'
'To sell?', snorted the bard into his ale, 'You can hardly lack for money? The amount we all brought back from Velious?'
'Ah yes, well, Soora considers that money plunder and wants nothing to do with it, so in the bank it stays, and we live ..'
'.. the simple life?', interrupted the bard.
'Yes'
Rokon leant back on his chair and stretched out his legs.
'I almost envy you.'
'Ha!', laughed the druid, 'You like the life of adventure too much! As for me? Well, I have seen too many friends die in battle. I had to stop.'
'Listen, about Jalamu.. I couldn't stop him, those giants...'
Roztov raised his hands in the air,
'It's not just Jalamu. If you must know, I have ceased to blame you for his death. Your songs lead us into battle and made all our hearts race, it's what bards do. It's not just the death of my best friend, there were so many more.. Naramira, Adoya, kind-hearted Dentist and the ones that are just.. missing .. Hfestos.. Farek.. it's just all too much, seeing your friends die, and for what? When it all boils down to it, we are just chasing platinum. And all you really need is...'
Again Roztov’s voice trailed off and Rokon finished his sentence.
'Cold beer on a warm day and a good woman in the kitchen?'
The druid laughed, 'Don't let her here you say that!', and jerked his thumb behind him to the house.

After a short silence, Rokon said, 'We hunted for him. You know, after you left. There are places to look, dark and mysterious places. Magical grave yards that you can get to. A place known only as Shadowrest..'
'Aye', nodded his companion, 'I have heard these tales as well. But it is over now. Jal is a long time dead.'
The bard let that sentence hang in the air for a while before he continued,
'In any event, that's not why I am here. I just thought someone should tell you that Xomano has gone back to Rivervale, and taken Assynt with her. The Heroes are fine, going from strength to strength, but well, there are not many of the old guard left and I thought you should know.'
'Right', said Roztov as he took this information in. His halfling druid friend had always sworn she would never go back to the halfling city. Here parents had been mortified to hear about her interracial marriage. He wondered what this could mean.
'I think', said the bard, 'maybe we should go see her. If your... beans ... can be trusted alone for a while that is.'

And so the next day they were ready to go. Roztov took his chainmail from the box under the bed and Soora helped him to strap it all on. It had been a while since he had worn it. Rokon was surprised that the woman was so happy to
see her field-hand leave, but he didn't ask why that might be, it just made taking him away easier.

A short walk out past the garden and down towards the lake and then after turning to wave goodbye to Soora, Roztov cast the spell that would take them to Misty Thicket.

Rokon gasped in a few breaths. The sun had been shining in Butcherblock, but the sky was overcast in the Thicket and it was as misty as you could have hoped for.
'I never get used to that.', Rokon whispered as he drew in gulps of air. It was something about the change of climate that made him queasy he thought. That and feeling you had just been picked up and moved by a giant hand.
The druid slapped him on the back cheerfully and started to walk down the hill from the ring of stones where they had just arrived.
'How fast can you walk, song-boy? I have made Rivervale in four days before you know!'
Rokon jogged to catch up with his friend
'Huh! Four days? I can do it in three!'
'You better pick up the pace then!'

As the day wore on, the weather cleared a little, but the mist was still thick and water droplets formed all over them. They kept up a gentle jogging pace all day, neither willing to slow down, despite the armour they wore and bags they carried. The air was hot and humid despite the mist and the jog was hot sweaty work.
'Look at you!', panted the bard, 'You love this!'
'Aye, I was a wanderer once. I have walked every continent, and Misty Thicket a hundred times.'
'Once adventure is in your blood you know, it never leaves.'
'I don't deny it. Although the hedgerows and ruins of the thicket are not much of an adventure when you have fought in the Ring Wars of Velious.'
After a while the conversation stopped but the pace did not, and they reached their first stop as the sun set.

The wayside inns of the thicket, while not designed for people of human stature, are very well provisioned and you can always be sure of good food and good company. Neither of the men were strangers to this region, but Roztov, who had spent years in the thicket in his younger days and even done a couple of tours on the wall, was the most well known. The landlord of the inn they had arrived at, 'The Friendly Firebeetle', knew his face well and was delighted to see them both. They spent a comfortable night here in one of the larger rooms set aside for human visitors.

The next day the rose before dawn and were dressed and ready to leave as the sun began to rise. Halflings by their nature are slug-a-beds and not many people were around to see them off. The weather was a little clearer and as the sun moved through the sky the mist evaporated and the day turned into a bright and sunny one.
The going along these smaller path ways was not suited to jogging so they kept a quick walking pace, single file on the trail through the hedgerows and tangled thorn forests.

Rokon sang a halfling walking song that they both knew well, and Roztov even joined in on the choruses;

As I travelled to the wall, I did meet,
A sweet wee maid with bells on her feet,
She greeted me fair and I cried halloo,
I was bound for the watch til I met you,

My hat and mask I soon forgot,
To Rivervale with the lass I cast my lot,
The runners would wonder where I could be,
But my new love was all that I could see,

And so...

To Rivervale, the smallest city I go,
With your homes above and smailes below,
With your maidens fair, big and small - o,
I will leave the watch to defend the wall - a wall o!

The songs and the company brought back day dreams of his youth to the druid, and they walked all day long, even eating on the go. But Rokon had also learned new songs, from his adventures in far of lands and after his third rendition of 'The Saga of Frostreaver' he had to stop when Roztov threatened to make him 'wear
that dam lute.'

They made such good time they past right by the inn that was Roztov’s usual stopover ‘The Crunchy Spiderling’ and it was very nearly totally dark by the time they reached the next inn five miles down the road called 'The Hungry Bixie'. Although the food was not as good here, it was closer to Rivervale and they would reach the city the next day at the pace they had set. They were both dog tired but neither would admit it to the other.

They entered the common room and threw down their packs. Suddenly they were greeted from calls and cheers from across the room. Rokon gasped in pleasant surprise to see the three figures by the bar. A dwarf, an elf and a barbarian.
The dwarf was tall for the bar but not overly so. The female elf beside him as sitting but if she had stood her head would have hit the ceiling. The barbarian, however, was huge, even by the standards of his race, and even sitting on
the floor his head was close to the ceiling. He must have got inside like a dog going down a rabbit hole, thought the bard.
'Edihag! Tal and Saven!' he cried as he shook hands with his friends, 'What are you doing here?'
'Same as you I think,' said Saven, 'Let me buy you a drink, I will even get one for Scruffy!'
Roztov smiled and joined them.
'Is something wrong?' asked Taldaanja as he sat beside her on the low bench.
Rokon laughed slapped the druid on the shoulder, 'He has just calculated in his head how quickly such a mixed bag as us will travel and has realised we will never reach the vale in three days! We won't get their in five let alone four old chap! My record is secure!'
'I was thinking nothing of the kind, ' grumbled the other man, 'I am glad to see you all, it's just when I saw Edi, he reminded me of Jal..'
A lump formed in Roztov’s throat as he remembered his dead friend. Edihag was bigger, but Jalamu would always be the best.

The next day, the pace was much slower, now that there were five of them. Edihag had the hardest time and slowed then down the most, as he would have to either stoop or press his way through the tangle thorn trees of the thicket, along paths made for people no more than four feet tall. Still, there was no rush now and the company was good.

It was indeed the fifth day since they had set off from the druids ring, in the early evening, when they arrived at the ‘Fool's Gold’ Inn, in the heart of Rivervale. They established themselves on some benches outside the inn and sat down to some food and drinks. A pot boy was sent over to Xomano’s families house, Taldaanja had forbidden them to all turn up at once, unannounced, and half an hour later Xomano herself and Assynt came down the lane, waving to their friends as they arrived.

Now that there were seven people at the table outside the inn, the landlord saw fit to bring them out a real feast. Roast fouls, pork lions, jumjum pies, minted vegetables and all manner of pastry dishes arrived at the table and soon filled the people around it as much as the table itself.

The conversation flowed and everyone was soon talking with everyone else in a loud hubbub of past adventures and future plans. Food was consumed, and more drink was sent for.

As the evening wore on, Roztov and Xomano separated off from the others for a little while and stood with their drinks in their hands, at the gate in conversation.

'Aye, I know how you feel anyway Xomano, the life of adventure is all well and good, but sometimes you have to go home and rest.'
The little halfling woman nodded, 'Being married has changed things for me. Assynt and I didn't think it would at first, but it has. It's hard to be husband and wife when you are trekking across the frozen tundra or delving deep into some forgotten dungeon.'
'Everyone needs a break.', agreed the human draining his glass, 'How is he settling into halfling society?'
'Oh mum and dad were utterly against him at first, but he is so unassuming they have taken to him. They treat him like some poor hunted creature that needs looking after and feeding up.'
'A hunted creature.' snorted Roztov, 'That is a good description of a raid enchanter!'

They walked over to the others to get more drinks from the table. All the jugs were empty though and Roztov picked one up from the table and said,
'I will go get more ale.'
'No no!', cried Assynt holding down his friends arm, 'Rokon is buying the drinks all night, don't worry!'
'Really?', asked the druid in confusion, 'Usually you need a greased crowbar to make that man part with his money.'
Assynt wiggled his fingers in a mock mystical gesture.
'I have helped make him a bit more... generous.'
Roztov laughed but said, 'That's unlike you Assynt, to use magic on your friends.'
The enchanter shrugged and said, 'He tried the same thing on me the last time we met. A bard try to mesmerise a 'chanter? Pff, in his dreams maybe.'
Just as he said this, Rokon himself arrived carrying a tray of jugs.
'On the table is fine.' said Assynt and the bard mumbled, 'Yes master.' in reply.

Xomano and Roztov laughed and helped themselves to more of the sweet halfling ale.
'The future isn't written though. It is so nice to see you all again. But I will be here in Rivervale for a while longer I think.'
'Hmmm', replied the druid, 'I think I might have had enough of rest myself. The walk through Misty Thicket got me thinking about things again. Dragons that need slaying...'
'Oh yes!', laughed the halfling, 'There are always dragons that need slaying!'
Edihag, who was drinking from the only decent sized container he could find, one of the small Rivervale half-gallon barrels, thought that Xomano had just made a toast.
With a laugh he raised the barrel and cried,
'To the slaying of dragons!'
Everyone else raised their glasses and repeated the toast, so no one heard Roztov say under his breath,
'And Tunare save us from the dragons slaying us...'