《Dunrealm : The Chronicles of the Wanderer》 Chapter One I am The Wanderer. Nobody else called me The Wanderer, just me. I¡¯m the only person I¡¯ve talked to recently, since everything went tits up and some of the conversations I¡¯ve had with myself have been . . . well, I suppose weird might be a good word for them. I never realised just how confused a person could get when they are alone. Especially when they shouldn¡¯t be alone. I couldn¡¯t explain what had happened and nobody else had been around to explain to me. All I know is when I woke up, just off the summit of High Street, my tent flapping in the stiff breeze when I unzipped the front, everything seemed to be the same as ever. I walked over to the nearby tumbledown dry-stone wall and emptied my bladder with a deep and fulsome sigh of contentment and a stretch, then it was back to the tent to set up the stove for the first brew up of the day. Up on the tops it was cold. The wind was blowing in from the north-east with a bitingly icy chill to it so I got back inside my sleeping bag and sat on a rock by the stove while I waited for the pan of water to boil. The gentle hiss of burning butane wasn¡¯t loud enough to drown out the sound of bleating sheep as they started their day of ceaseless wandering, looking for the freshest tips of slow growing grass or any stray sandwich crusts left behind by the previous day¡¯s visitors to their elevated, windblown, glorious patch of earth. I leaned back to reach into my tent and retrieved my woolly hat, an essential at these heights even then when the weather was starting to warm up down in the valleys. I opened it out and pulled it down tight over my head, immediately feeling the benefit of not having freezing cold ears. I sat back up in time to watch a small group¡ªI forget what the proper name for the group is now¡ªof shimmering jet-black ravens as they displayed their incredible aerial prowess, swooping, turning, flying with joyful abandon, riding the wind which was now starting to penetrate my duck down cocoon with its icy tendrils. Water finally battled its way to the boil. Two mugs. Two teabags. Dried milk in Geoff¡¯s. None in mine. It tastes like shit and I¡¯d sooner drink my tea black if there¡¯s no proper milk. Boiling water with rising plumes of scalding hot steam like a mini geyser before it explodes poured into the mugs, a stir, then sit back and wait. ¡°Geoff. Brew¡¯s up, mate,¡± I said. Nothing, just the gently undulating whistle of wind through clumps of hardy grasses and the arrhythmic flapping of brightly coloured nylon fabric. I blew on my tea while my glasses steamed up, then took a first reinvigorating sip of life¡¯s great reviver. Geoff and I had been wild camping in the Lake District since we were eighteen. At least three times a year we would go, sometimes just for a few days like this trip, the longest trip had been a month, broken up one night a week by a stay in a Bed and Breakfast, mainly for the use of a shower but also to stoke up on fish and chips and a full English breakfast. Carbs, fat, and protein, every wild camper¡¯s dream food. I mean, I was used to eating rehydrated shite but after a while a bloke needs a decent meal and bacon, sausage, double egg, fried bread, plum tomatoes, mushrooms, and plenty of toast and marmalade fills the gap perfectly. Not stinking like an old tramp helped. A decent night¡¯s sleep in a soft warm bed didn¡¯t hurt either. Back home we had been friends since we had been in the scouts as kids, it¡¯s where we both got the camping bug. Neither of us had married. Geoff had a girlfriend of sorts but although I had my fair share of relationships if you could call them that, I had always called time before anything got too serious. Sex is great. Dealing with emotions? Not so much. My friend with benefits, Alicia, took care of the sex part when I didn¡¯t have a girlfriend and never, ever intimated she wanted anything more. I think, in many ways we were very similar. She had always found it tough to talk about feelings, in fact we never had but it¡¯s the impression I got. She had boyfriends on and off, never for long, so I figured, outside of those times when we both had partners, us hooking up together was no more than both of us using each other for our own mutual benefit. ¡°Geoff. Come on mate, we need to be back in Penrith by four to catch the train.¡± Steam had stopped rising from his cup. I would have drunk it if it wasn¡¯t for the bloody dried milk shit. Despite the wind, it was a glorious morning to be up high on the fells. Far below, early pockets of mist shrouded the countryside. I¡¯d seen it before many times but it always filled me with awe to think I was looking down onto it. The sun, just rising above the hills behind me was starting to warm the air and endless reflected diamonds of light from the Haweswater reservoir below caught my eye. Far below, at the near end of the reservoir I could make out the sunken remains of the village of Mardale Green through the still, crystal water. Geoff was always a better sleeper than me. He¡¯d been tall at twelve and by eighteen was a good six inches taller than me. Mind you, I was only five feet eight so most people seemed tall to me. I was just happy to be taller than Tom Cruise. When we camped Geoff always had to curl up in his sleeping bag but it never stopped him getting in a solid eight hours and I envied him as I tossed and turned, my mind full of all sorts of crap I couldn¡¯t switch off. I even envied the gentle snores rippling through his tent. I threw a small rock at the jumbled assortment of pans he had left outside his rig after we had eaten the night before. Final night meant no washing up, we take the pans home and stick them in the dishwasher. We always figured there was no point working when we didn¡¯t have to. After dinner, we¡¯d settled down by the fire, sparked up a joint each and we smoked and talked. I can¡¯t remember what about now. It must have been the usual weed-fuelled bollocks although I do remember him telling me about his latest conquest¡­again. It wasn¡¯t his girlfriend. The last thing we¡¯d talked about was getting up early so we could be on our way in good time. Still nothing from Geoff¡¯s tent. I was sure the rattling pans would have roused him. He never tired of telling me how much they cost. I felt a five-minute warning movement in my gut so I walked back over to the wall, making sure nobody from the other tent which had pitched up the night before could see me, and squatted, a roll of toilet paper grasped firmly in one hand to stop the morning dew soaking into it. I covered up the pile with a couple of flat stones and wandered back to the tents Nothing. Still no movement, pardon the pun. I fumbled about with the zip on the front flap of Geoff¡¯s tent and finally got it moving.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Come on, mate, we need to get going. Your brew¡¯s gone cold. I¡¯ve been calling you the last quarter of an hour.¡± I could see his chestnut brown, scruffily curled hair sticking out of his sleeping bag but I could have sworn he¡¯d lost weight overnight. ¡°Geoff? You OK?¡± I crawled into the tent and knelt by his side. I slowly started to unzip the side of his sleeping bag, not too far, he always slept in the buff and I could do without seeing that first thing in the morning. I pulled back a corner to check his face and if I hadn¡¯t already had a dump, would have crapped myself there and then. Every morning I wake up, even now, after all this time on the road alone, I see the top of Geoff¡¯s head slip off the pillow and land on the pile of bones which occupied a fraction of the space his body should have taken up. I scrambled out as quickly as I could, taking a step back, stumbling, kicking over the pans in a clattering, clanging, cacophony as they rattled and rolled over the grass. Hand over my mouth, I stared at the opening in his tent. I looked around. I don¡¯t know why, there was no chance of any help there and then. Help. Phone. I came out of the trance and dived into my tent, dragging out my pack, frantically trying with shaking fingers to unzip the pocket I kept my phone in. I wasn¡¯t feeling the cold anymore; the shakes were from shock I assumed. I unwrapped the plastic bag I kept it in and pressed the power button. The screen slowly came to life and after what seemed like an age I managed to punch in 999 and make the call. Nothing. How many bars? No signal. ¡°Shit, shit, shit.¡± Geoff¡¯s phone. In his pack. I knelt by the front of his tent and leaned in, stretching out to grab his pack, not wanting to go right inside again. I dragged out his pack and found his phone. Again, a screen, Again, no signal. ¡°Fuck, fuck, fuck.¡± I said, muttering the words to myself. You don¡¯t run when you are out on the fells. Unless you¡¯re one of those lunatic fell runners. It isn¡¯t safe, it¡¯s too easy to trip and fall and a thousand foot drop off a ridge and onto pointy rocks is something you don¡¯t just jump up and walk away from. I sprinted to the other tent. I¡¯d seen them roll up the night before. Young couple. I¡¯d waved a greeting and left them alone. ¡°Help. Fuck sake, help.¡± I shouted. Panic stations. Nothing. No rustling, no rapidly throwing on clothes. No voices. Just windblown, sheep bleating, raven cawing silence. ¡°Oh, fuck.¡± I grabbed the zip, not caring if I caught them at it or woke them up. I poked my head in through the inner flap. ¡°Oh¡ªfuck¡ªking¡ªhell.¡± I said as I backed out slowly. *** I can¡¯t remember making it but I must have because when my brain finally got back to work rather than spinning weird dreamlike pictures around, I¡¯d drunk half a cup of boiled water. Auto-pilot me forgot the tea bag. Walking toward the edge of the wide ridge which was the summit, I could see the road winding its way along the edge of the reservoir, only clearing the cover of overhanging trees for the last half-mile before it stopped at the small car park. Nothing moved on the road. One car was parked in the car park. I wondered if it belonged to the couple in the other tent. There was no way I was going back in there. No way. Even for car keys. Further away along the road I could just make out the chimneys of Haweswater Hotel through the tree cover. I had to get there. It was the only place for miles where there might be a phone I could get help with. The only place I might find other people. It took me an hour to finally drag myself away from the top of the mountain. It was Geoff. How was I supposed to just leave him up there? How was I supposed to just leave the couple up there? I¡¯d walked off to the start of the drop back down following Nan Bield Pass once, then walked back until I could see the tents again before finally starting the steep winding return to the valley bottom. I remember nothing of the descent other than thinking I needed to get help. Nobody passed me going the other way. When I could see the road again no cars trundled along. When I could see the car park, just the one car remained. When I reached it, the hotel was quiet. Locked up. I checked my phone and according to the screen it was eleven in the morning. The place should have been as buzzing as it ever gets during the morning but when I rattled the main doors there was nothing but darkness and silence. I finally got in through an open window in the kitchens. The place was deserted, my voice echoing around the cold building as I shouted. The phones in reception were dead and the only public phone I could find was the same. I spent a pointless half an hour in a dead place trying to raise a living soul. There were none to be found. Just bones. I didn¡¯t check the rooms. Which is how the last weeks maybe even months progressed. I moved on to the next village. Nobody anywhere. Just bones where people were meant to be. I headed for the nearest town. Nobody alive I could find. I headed to Penrith. It was a ghost town where the train I was meant to take had never arrived. I tried cars but even after finding the keys from some poor unfortunate¡¯s key rack, none of them would start. So, I walked. I became The Wanderer. Heading vaguely toward home but slowly, trying to take in whatever had taken away the old world and dumped me in this new reality all alone, with no-one to talk to. So, I talked to Geoff as I wandered country lanes and urban streets. He never answered me, never replied, until one day when I saw strangers. I don¡¯t know where I was when I saw them, some town I never bothered to look at the name of. As I walked toward a corner of a street I heard a woman scream. I jumped and stopped dead in my tracks, suddenly afraid. In all the time I¡¯d wandered, and I now have no idea how long that is, it was the first human voice I¡¯d heard. I¡¯d almost forgotten what it was like to speak to anyone other than Geoff. Then I heard a man¡¯s voice, indistinct, angry and the woman screamed again. I walked up to the corner slowly, my shoulder pressed up against the shop front I was passing. Catching sight of my reflection made me jump. I had a serious case of the jitters. Who was this ragged, scruffy-bearded waif standing where I should have been? It took me a while to realise it was me, so profound a change it was from the image of myself I carried in my mind. I shook my head, hoping the reflection would be gone and the real me would appear but it didn¡¯t happen. The woman screamed again. ¡°Help her.¡± a voice from behind me said. I swore, jumped again, and spun around to see who had sneaked up on me. ¡°Ohhhhhh. Fuck me.¡± I said, mainly for my own benefit and I must say the croak which emerged from my throat sounded foreign and more than a little weird. Standing opposite me, five feet away, was Geoff. What was left of Geoff at least, which amounted to a skeleton, it¡¯s head topped off with what looked like a curly wig. I¡¯d recognise that hair anywhere. ¡°Geoff? Is that you?¡± His jaw worked because he said, ¡°Yes, it is, go on, go help that poor woman. Can¡¯t you hear her screaming?¡± He lifted a bony arm and pointed a white finger in the direction of the screams. ¡°But ¡­ you ¡­ how ¡­ I.¡± I was jabbering, trying to formulate the words in my brain into a meaningful sentence which might emerge from my mouth, but I failed miserably, ending up gaping at him open-mouthed, like a gawky teenager being asked to talk openly about sex. I eventually came up with one. ¡°How are you here?¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m not, you berk. Not really. Think about it logically, mate. You and I both know the pile of bones you left behind can¡¯t stay in one piece without ligament and muscle to keep it all together. I¡¯m a figment of your tiny brain; you¡¯ve invented me to tell you what to do next, and the next thing you need to do,¡± he hesitated for a moment as another scream rang out, ¡°is to help the woman. If you don¡¯t believe I¡¯m not real just check out my reflection in the window. Wait. I¡¯ll strike a pose.¡± A bony hand curled into a fist which he tucked beneath his chin, turning his head to the left, raising one bony knee. It was his thinking pose. I¡¯d seen it a thousand times before but never quite like that. ¡°Go on, check me out in the window.¡± He pointed his other arm at the shop window behind me. I couldn¡¯t drag my eyes away from him for a few moments but eventually the jelly legs which had started the second I saw him supplied the motion and I turned to look. Nothing. Just a dusty, rain-streaked piece of glass and my gaunt reflection looking at an empty street. ¡°Wait, I¡¯ll swap, stay there a second.¡± I waited while the clacking sound of him moving around played out behind me. ¡°OK, you can turn around now.¡± I turned back slowly, mouth drying out after having it open for so long. He was sitting on the cold solid surface of the road. ¡°Look, lotus position.¡± He was too. Lotus position, legs crossed, white fingers resting on white knees. ¡°Watch this though.¡± As I watched, the skeletal Geoff slowly levitated until he was a couple of feet in the air. ¡°How cool is that?¡± he said and if he could smile, I¡¯m sure he would have been. The next scream was louder still, long and lingering, hanging in the air, echoing between the buildings long after its source had stopped making the sound. Then I remembered. It¡¯s a conspiracy. Of Ravens. Chapter Two Geoff stood up straight again and pointed around the corner. ¡°Are you going to help the girl or not? She sounds like she is in serious trouble.¡± Still dumbstruck and without giving much thought to how I was going to help her I nodded and strode to the corner. I took a careful look the way I¡¯d seen the strangers go as I had been walking along the street. ¡°Go on then, don¡¯t just stand there, knock-kneed watching what¡¯s happening. She needs your help. I know it¡¯s me who would normally leap into the fray but seriously, look at me.¡± Geoff held out both arms and aimed his unseeing eye sockets down his body. ¡°I¡¯d love to go and beat the crap out of whoever¡¯s hurting her but somehow, I just don¡¯t see it. Do you?¡± I glanced over at him, considered what he¡¯d said, then shook my head. ¡°So. Come on, get moving before it¡¯s too late.¡± I looked again and in front of a church a hundred yards along the road was a small rectangular grassy area. I could see two shapes battling with each other, rolling around, kicking up dust. The bigger of the two had just managed to subdue the smaller and as I moved from the corner I could see he had his hands on her clothes and with a rapid movement pulled his arms back, ripping open the upper clothing of what was then evidently a young, slim woman. Now I am no prude, a roll in the hay is something I have plenty of time for and always enjoyed the experience but this just didn¡¯t look right. This was no mutual pact of love. I broke into a run as best I could with my backpack on. It was more of a slow jog and a noisy one too, the sound of the motley collection of pans I¡¯d put together rattling and clanging in time to my steps, but it took me nearer and neither of the two people seemed to notice. ¡°Hey. You.¡± I tried to shout but it came out as a rasping croak. I coughed at the effort, even while I kept jogging. I was closer now, fifty feet away when I realised the man, who now looked bloody enormous, leather clad and with bulging biceps, was pawing at the girl¡¯s clothing further down her body with one hand, while pinning her hands with his other great mitt. He was evidently looking for carnal satisfaction at her unwilling expense. Now call me brave, or call me an idiot but there was no way I was going to let it happen. It¡¯s not right no matter how desperate you are. I should know. ¡°Hey, you.¡± I shouted again. ¡°You can¡¯t do that.¡± Twenty feet away now, I slowed to a walk. This time, they both noticed. The woman who was trapped turned her head toward me, fixing me with an intense, violet- eyed gaze the like of which I had never seen before. Her silver hair was splayed out wildly across the grass beneath her and she looked defeated. The struggling had stopped and those eyes, those beautiful eyes held nothing but resignation when she first turned them on me but seeing me, something else began to shine. ¡°I do what I like, midget.¡± The man¡¯s coarse voice, full of desire and victory, spread like a foul stench through the early evening air. ¡°Fucking hit him.¡± I looked over my shoulder to see Geoff, clattering, bouncing around like a boxer, jabbing the air in front of him, dropping a shoulder in a feint then quarter-turning and jabbing again. In the moment, I couldn¡¯t think of a famous boxer to compare him unfavourably with so I just shook my head and called him a twat. ¡°Who are you talking to, midget? Your imaginary friend? Are you fucking gaga?¡± The man turned to look at me again with a wild grin but his roaming hand still tried to gain purchase on the woman¡¯s clothes. See, now I haven¡¯t got a short temper but certain things get my goat. A bully is one so he scored there. It took six months of constant taunting and pushing but Derek Munton finally tipped me over the edge when I was eleven. He ended up slinking away with a broken nose and a bloodstained shirt which earned me a three-day suspension from school much to the tearful chagrin of my mother and the outwardly angry, but as he told me later, secretly proud father. He knew. He understood what it was like. It was also pretty much the last time I saw him. I didn¡¯t know this until then but it turns out someone impugning the state of my mental health also did the trick. Who would have thought? I dropped my pack onto the ground behind me with a crash. ¡°What are you going to do, midget? You going to beat me up and save the little Elf bitch? You the hero, are you?¡± ¡°Yep,¡± I said. I put my hands on my hips in what I hoped looked like a confident stance. The man on the ground laughed at me. Geoff said. ¡°You look so camp.¡± Then he laughed too. I tried to ignore him but took my hands away anyway and folded my arms in front of me. ¡°You can laugh all you want but you are going to leave this . . .¡± I hesitated, wondering what the politically correct term for a female person was in these circumstances, ¡°. . . her alone.¡± ¡°And how do you propose to stop me, midget. You going to hit me with one of your saucepans?¡± His hand had stopped roaming. ¡°No. I¡¯m telling you to get off her or I will kill you.¡± Where the hell that came from I have no idea. The last person I¡¯d hurt physically was Derek Munton with a right hook to stop him taking the piss. None of the other bullies at school came near me afterwards. The man shifted himself onto his knees, straddling the woman, pushed his face right up to her cheek and quietly said. ¡°Stay right there, bitch. I¡¯ll be back for you in a minute.¡± Then trailed his long slimy tongue across the soft skin of her face. She flinched but kept her gaze fixed on me. The man then pushed himself slowly to his feet which was when I nearly crapped myself. I mean I knew he was big just by looking at him on the ground but as he drew himself up to full height I started to feel like I was shrinking. He was fucking huge and I wished, right then, I had a gun. I didn¡¯t. All I had was a me. Five-eight. Undernourished. Shit scared. Trembling. The man turned to face me. He looked even bigger when he faced me, not only did he have a height advantage of a foot or more but he was built like the proverbial brick outhouse. Twice as broad across the shoulders as me and heavily muscled. Muscles, I realised as I looked at him, he was going to use to pulverise me. ¡°Fucking hit him, give him the old one two, duck and weave, come on. Hit him.¡± Geoff was making sharp breathing sounds like boxers make. I¡¯m not sure how with no internal organs or lips to purse but there you go. I tried to ignore him but couldn¡¯t help glancing to where he was shadow boxing in my peripheral vision.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. As I looked back a trace of confusion fleetingly crossed the man¡¯s face and for just a moment his gaze flickered to where I had glanced. It was the one opportunity I had to act, to get in the first blow and win the day and the undying gratitude of the woman I rescued. OK so sue me I¡¯m an old romantic. So, I did it. I ran. Now, it sounds bad but to be fair to me I did run toward him rather than away. I dodged to one side and hit him with a good old-fashioned shoulder charge. It was like running into the side of a bus but it was enough to just unbalance him enough so the doughboy of a punch he flung at me sailed straight over my head. Once I was past him I stopped, grabbed the woman¡¯s hand, pulled her to her feet¡ªshe was as light as a feather¡ªand as fast as I could, holding tight to her I ran away dragging her along beside me. It took three turns and five minutes hiding behind a dumpster down a back alley before I got enough breath back to speak and enough confidence that we had lost the man lumbering behind us. ¡°You err, you might want to cover ¡­ you know.¡± I nodded in the direction of her breasts, trying my level best not to look any more than was absolutely, strictly necessary. She looked down. ¡°Cover what?¡± She looked back at me, her silver eyebrows scrunched in innocent puzzlement. ¡°You know.¡± I nodded a couple more times, then lifted my hand, looked away, and pointed. ¡°Them.¡± ¡°Does the sight of them offend your eyes, half-elf?¡± ¡°God no,¡± I said, keeping my eyes locked on hers. They were awesome. So were her eyes. ¡°Then why should I cover up? It is simply nature¡¯s way.¡± ¡°Well. Because,¡± I could feel a tingling where I had no right to feel such a thing, ¡°it¡¯s cold and you don¡¯t want to make yourself ill.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t understand this word.¡± ¡°Which one? There were several.¡± ¡°This ¡®ill¡¯. It sounds foreign to my ear and yet you, a half-elf, deliver it like it is a common word in our language. What does it mean?¡± ¡°It means sick,¡± she still looked confused, ¡°poorly, unwell, errm,¡± I couldn¡¯t think of any more synonyms, ¡°surely you must have been sick?¡± ¡°Only when I have eaten a dwarf¡¯s dinner,¡± she smiled wistfully, ¡°and it went straight back in the pot.¡± ¡°But you have to have been unwell. You know, not feeling great, shivers and shakes, aching muscles, fever.¡± ¡°Oh, you think I will catch a fever, you should have said from the beginning. Then I could have said you sound like an interfering old woman; or my mother which is one and the same thing, half-elf. Elves don¡¯t become ill,¡± she pronounced the word ¡®ell¡¯. ¡°No, it¡¯s ill.¡± ¡°Eel.¡± ¡°No ill, like hill or mill.¡± ¡°I am sorry half-elf, I don¡¯t speak in the common tongue very much now so if my speech is not up to itch, then you have my most humble apologies.¡± She mumbled something else but the look on her face didn¡¯t seem to be apologetic. Apoplectic perhaps but not apologetic. ¡°That¡¯s OK. I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t realise you were foreign.¡± I spoke a little louder and slower. ¡°Your English is very good.¡± ¡°Why are you shouting, and speaking to me like I am a child?¡± ¡°Sorry. It¡¯s what we do when faced with a foreigner.¡± ¡°What, you talk to their chest instead of looking them in the eye?¡± I hadn¡¯t realised my gaze had dropped and as I quickly looked back up I could feel myself blushing and could also see a mischievous glint in those violet eyes. The corners of her mouth turned up into a half-smile. I could hear Geoff laughing behind me so I pretended to scratch my back but flipped him the bird instead. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s nice. Just because you got caught out ogling her. Why don¡¯t you ask her name?¡± Geoff said. ¡°Sorry,¡± I said. ¡°Maybe you could cover up? Please.¡± ¡°Very well, half-elf. I will cover up lest your face should turn more beetroot than it already is.¡± I looked away until she had finished rustling her clothes. ¡°What happened back there? Who was the man?¡± She hocked and spat on the floor. ¡°He was no man. There are no men now. It was Cedric, the troll who calls this area his home.¡± ¡°A troll? Like someone who disrupts stuff on the web?¡± ¡°What is this web of which you speak? I know of only webs spun by spiders and no web I know of could hold Cedric.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know what the web is? The internet?¡± She shook her head, the ¡®just about to explode¡¯ look back on her face. ¡°But you said this Cedric nutter was a troll?¡± ¡°Yes, a field troll.¡± ¡°You¡¯re losing me now, trolls are just mythology, aren¡¯t they? And,¡± something about what she had said suddenly became clearer, ¡°you keep saying you¡¯re an elf and I¡¯m a half-elf.¡± ¡°It is true. I am elven and you are half-elven.¡± ¡°What do you mean, you are Elven?¡± ¡°I am one of the Elven folk who have lived in this land since time made the first rising of the sun. I know not where you hail from but, I see you are half-elven.¡± I had no clue what she was talking about. She didn¡¯t look like anything elf-like I¡¯d ever seen in the movies or read in my favourite fantasy books. They are supposed to be all pale and ethereal. This girl had beautifully tanned skin, platinum hair and a ripper body as far as I could see. Or had seen. There was nothing elf-like about her and she didn¡¯t even have pointy ears. Every picture of an elf I¡¯d ever seen was nothing like her. ¡°Hang on a minute. You said you see I am a half-elf. What do you mean? I¡¯m just a man, a bloke, you know, human.¡± ¡°There are no purebred humans anymore.¡± ¡°I beg your pardon.¡± She spoke loudly and slowly, I suppose I deserved it. ¡°There are no purebred humans anymore.¡± The mischievous look was back on her face again. I noticed she had dimples in her cheeks when she smiled anything more than a gentle smile. ¡°Yeah, OK, I¡¯ll give you that one,¡± I couldn¡¯t help but smile myself, ¡°but what do you mean there are no more purebred humans. I¡¯m human, where are the rest? What happened.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t know for sure. It is what we are trying to find out but to succeed we need to find Vulexon.¡± ¡°Who is we, and who the hell is Vulexon?¡± ¡°We are the emissaries of the Elder Races of Dunrealm and Vulexon is the last remaining wizard of the Dunrealm.¡± ¡°Now you¡¯re talking gibberish. Wizards. Elves. Trolls. And you still haven¡¯t explained how I am here and I am all man.¡± ¡°Oh, yes.¡± Her eyes appraised me from top to toe. I blushed again. ¡°I can see that.¡± She bit her bottom lip, then licked her top lip slowly with the tip of her pink tongue. ¡°I mean I¡¯m a man, of mankind. Why am I here?¡± I tried to ignore the blatant flirting. ¡°Because you are half-elf. I can see it in you and in your aura. Besides only half-bloods survived and, so far, you are only the second we have found on our journey.¡± I stopped to ponder everything she had said. It all sounded utterly crazy and yet she was totally convincing. I decided in the end she must either be a complete loon or she was telling the truth. ¡°Where are the rest of these emissaries? If they are real and not some kind of smartarse illusion I might even start to believe you.¡± I thought it was a good plan. Calling her bluff. ¡°I¡¯ll take you to them. Come, let us go before Cedric picks up our scent and follows.¡± OK, so no bluff. We both stood and for a moment as she stood near me I lost myself in those violet eyes ¡°What is your name?¡± My voice was breathless and hushed. ¡°I am Zinrel in the common tongue. My friends and lovers call me Zin. And you? What is your name?¡± I thought about it for a few moments. I hadn¡¯t even thought about using my name in weeks and right then I couldn¡¯t remember exactly what it was so I stuck with the familiar. ¡°I am The Wanderer.¡± ¡°And what do your friends and lovers call you.¡± ¡°Dickhead.¡± Geoff¡¯s dulcet tones echoed in the narrow space. ¡°We call him Dickhead, love. Oh, bugger, she can¡¯t hear me I forgot.¡± I did my best to ignore his idiocy. ¡°I have no friends by the sound of what you say, as for lovers? Well let¡¯s just say it¡¯s been a while.¡± I tried to smile but got the feeling it didn¡¯t come over as humourous, rather more pathetic given the look of sadness in her eyes. I¡¯m sure I heard her say something else but the gruff voice of Cedric from along the street drowned it out. ¡°We should go.¡± I said. ¡°Follow me. I will take you to my group. They may be able to explain better than I.¡± ¡°I can smell you Elf bitch, I know you¡¯re here somewhere.¡± Cedric bellowed from behind us again as we set off at a jog. Zinrel was ahead leading the way and in truth I didn¡¯t mind, the view from the back was almost as good as it was from the front. She smiled coyly when she glanced over her shoulder and caught me staring. ¡°Like what you see half-elf?¡± Geoff laughed. ¡°Busted again.¡± Mentally I told him to shove it but on the outside, I kept quiet and kept jogging. Chapter Three It took another ten minutes of jogging, including a detour to rescue my abandoned backpack before the bellows and roars of frustration from Cedric faded away into the distance. We slowed down to a walk, both breathing heavily. Apart from the sound of breathing, and the rattle of my pans, we walked in silence. The last, rapidly fading gleams of the sun cast long shadows on the road in front of us as we left the town behind. Geoff cast no shadow although I could hear him walking and humming behind us. He always had hummed when he walked but, in all the time I¡¯d known him, I¡¯d never been able to make out a single tune. ¡°Where are we going now?¡± I had been scanning the fields over the top of the drystone walls lining the road but had seen no sign of any group of mythological misfits as we had progressed. Zinrel headed to a stile breaching the wall, climbed up and pointed toward a group of trees a mile distant from the road. ¡°Our camp is in the copse yonder, in a small clearing hidden from prying eyes, half-elf. You should ready yourself for what you are about to see.¡± ¡°Why, what am I going to see?¡± ¡°The kings and queens of the Elder races of Dunrealm. A gathering none of us has witnessed in our lifetimes and are unlikely to get the chance to look upon again.¡± I made a kind of half-laugh, half-snort noise as she jumped over the stile and I climbed up, ready to follow. She was standing in the field, hands on hips, waiting for me. ¡°I¡¯m glad you find such talk amusing.¡± ¡°Well. Seriously? Ghouls and Goblins in the secret forest? It¡¯s like something out of a fantasy novel .¡± ¡°What is this novel you speak of?¡± ¡°It¡¯s like a story but written down so anyone can read it.¡± ¡°You mean like the tales I listened to at my father¡¯s knee when I was nothing but a child.¡± ¡°Yeah, but written down so everyone gets the same version.¡± ¡°Where is the joy in that? The taleteller¡¯s skill lies in moulding the words he speaks to suit the melancholy of his audience but at the same time revealing the true meaning of the tale.¡± ¡°Jesus, everyone¡¯s a critic.¡± Geoff said as he landed next to me. I tried to ignore him although it did force a smile onto my face. ¡°But seriously, Zin. All this stuff you are telling me about. Is it real? Or are you just taking me somewhere to commit unspeakable acts of sexual depravity against my weakened body.¡± She looked at me for a moment with one eyebrow arched, a look that both made my tingling start again, and scared me half to death. Maybe it was a bit early for the sex talk. I glanced across at Geoff who had one bony hand clapped across his forehead shaking his head. The curls on top bounced around in time. ¡°Follow me to the trees and you will find out.¡± She set off across the field at pace, seeming to glide over the rough ground at times, and it took all my strength to try to keep up. Even then she managed to pull away from me. I realised just how tired I was even though that day I had probably only walked a couple of miles to the town and spent another hour running around and walking to the field. A few weeks ago, I would have walked that distance in under an hour but, truth be told, recently I had been neglecting myself. I hadn¡¯t eaten right, well as right as you can when the fresh food is all spoiled, rotting on the shelves. There was still plenty of other food available, all I needed to do was walk into a house or a shop and take it. I hadn¡¯t though, not from some misguided notion that I shouldn¡¯t but because I think I had started to give up. Give up faith. Give up on myself. When I thought back to how my reflection looked in that shop window, it was shocking and more so because my starvation was entirely self-inflicted. I slowed down knowing I would never catch Zin. As I watched her skip across the field I realised that I was feeling what I¡¯d seen in her eyes when I first stopped Cedric. Hope. ¡°Come on.¡± Zin flitted away along a path that seemed to run around the grove of trees and I followed behind, although she seemed incredibly nimble along the rutted track. After a while she veered off into the trees, bidding me to follow. A trodden down path headed in from the track and I hurried to keep up so I didn¡¯t lose her in the gloom of dusk. The canopy of leaves that even now had started to change colour in line with the seasons made the dusk, duskier. Zin had stopped in front of a large tree trunk. It might have been an oak, it¡¯s not as if I¡¯d know, or much care. ¡°The clearing is just past this tree. Be careful as we enter the camp, they know who I am but they might think you¡¯re a spy.¡± ¡°Why would they think I¡¯m a spy? Who would I be spying for and why?¡± ¡°Because they don¡¯t know you and I would imagine they would think you are spying for Malvine.¡± ¡°Who¡¯s¡ª?¡± "I¡¯ll explain later, come on and step slowly and carefully.¡± She stepped around the tree and headed for a gap between two large bushes and disappeared. I followed quickly not wanting to lose her in the trees now the sun had all but disappeared. I pushed my way through, my backpack and its assorted add-ons catching on the thorns of the bushes. I pulled the pack, swearing, trying to release the grip the bush had gained and when it suddenly came loose it propelled me into the clearing, stumbling forward until I lost my balance and tumbled without any air of style or grace, flat on my face against the grass. I could hear Zin¡¯s voice. ¡°Father. Father. Look.¡± All hell broke loose. I felt two people leap onto my back and something cold and sharp touch the back of my neck. Whoever it was, one of them was shouting. ¡°He¡¯s a spy, I¡¯m going to run my sword through his scrawny neck.¡± ¡°Is this true, my Zinrel? Is he a spy? Did he capture you, torture you, and force you to lead him to our camp? What did he do to you my sweet daughter?¡± I worked out, despite the increasing pressure on my neck, Zin¡¯s father had just spoken. He sounded a touch melodramatic for my liking. With my face pressed hard against the ground I could only mumble. ¡°I¡¯m not a spy.¡± A voice, with bad breath, muttered in my ear. ¡°You would deny it wouldn¡¯t you. No spy is going to admit to it, at least without some,¡± the point of whatever was sticking into the back of my neck was pressed even harder, ¡°persuasion.¡± ¡°Well I¡¯m hardly going to say I am a spy when I¡¯m not am I?¡± ¡°You are a spy then?¡±The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°What? No, that¡¯s what I¡¯m saying. I am not a spy.¡± ¡°You would deny it though. No spy is going to admit it.¡± At this point I had an overwhelming sense of deja-vu and I could relate to how a witch on a ducking stool might have felt. I was feeling sick from fear and I was bloody starving too but Mr. Halitosis and his friend had me pinned down. ¡°Zin,¡± I tried to look over to where she was standing but all I could see were her boots,¡± can you tell your father and whoever is on my back, that I am not a spy. Tell them what happened. Please.¡± ¡°What happened, Daughter? If this man is not a spy he deserves to be allowed his freedom.¡± ¡°He is not a spy, Father.¡± The pressure on the back of my neck eased slightly. ¡°Then what happened, why did you bring this person to our camp?¡± ¡°Cedric happened, Father.¡± ¡°Cedric? That dirty, stinking troll who threatened to ¡­ threatened to ¡­¡± ¡°Yes, Father. That Cedric.¡± There was silence for a moment. ¡°Did he ¡­?¡± The unspoken question hung in the air for a few seconds, which felt like an eternity, until Zin spoke again. ¡°No, he didn¡¯t. He ripped at my clothes but The Wanderer stopped him and helped me escape.¡± ¡°Where is this man, The Wanderer?¡± ¡°That would be me,¡± I mumbled through the grass. ¡°You?¡± Zin¡¯s father¡¯s boots turned to face me. ¡°Yes, me. Look, is there any chance you could call off the hounds, please. I can stand then and we can talk man to man, well half-elf to elf at least.¡± There must have been a signal of some sort because suddenly the weight of two people was lifted and I found myself being hoist to my feet by my rucksack. When my head stopped spinning I could see Zin heading toward me, dimples, flashing smile, great rack, and all. She held out her hand, which I obligingly took, and she tugged at me to follow her, which, given the events so far, was about the only thing I felt safe doing. A man was standing, watching us as we approached. He was about as far removed from my mental image of what an elf would look like as it was possible to be. He was a bit taller than me, I had to look up to him, he was bald with salt and pepper hair around the sides and back of his head, and he was . . . how best to describe it ¡­ chunky. He looked a lot like an English teacher, careworn, but he didn¡¯t wear a jacket with mock leather elbow patches. He did have a top of the range, bright red, Berghaus waterproof jacket on, walking trousers and the hiking boots I¡¯d seen earlier. If the Rambler¡¯s Association needed a stereotypical rambler for an advert they should have called him. ¡°The Wanderer.¡± He inclined his head in my direction and fjust to be polite, I found myself doing the same in return. ¡°I, Zinfell, King of the Elves, am indebted to you for the virtue of my daughter, for defeating the scourge that is Cedric and returning my sweet Zinrel back into the bosom of her family.¡± I looked to my right to see Zin trying to stifle a knowing giggle when her father said ¡®bosom¡¯. At the same time, I heard Geoff over my left shoulder sniggering at the same word. He always did have a childlike sense of humour. ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡± I said. I couldn¡¯t, for a moment, think of anything else to say, transfixed as I was by his mundane appearance. ¡°You¡¯re the King of the Elves?¡± I eventually managed. ¡°Indeed I am.¡± He bowed again, stiff, and formal. ¡°But I thought Elves were all tall and ethereal, you know, pointy ears and all that.¡± ¡°Some indeed are but you are seeing me and no doubt all of my fellow travellers in our human forms.¡± I risked a quick glance around the clearing and saw nobody that didn¡¯t look like a person. I nodded as I turned back to face the boss man. ¡°When you say your human form ¡­¡± I couldn¡¯t at that moment think of the right way to phrase the question so my words faded away. ¡°We all have human forms to enable us to live among humans.¡± ¡°Why? I mean I thought all of the stories had you living in massive mansions out in the wilds somewhere.¡± ¡°Many years ago we did but once humans became so populous, that became impossible. I blame Tolkien for forcing our hands with having to look and act like humans to fit in though.¡± A murmur of agreement, not entirely friendly, arose from the assembled group at the mention of the name. ¡°Why, what did Tolkien do? He just published a few stories, didn¡¯t he?¡± The murmur rose again and I distinctly heard several expletives at something louder than a mutter. ¡°He blew the whole thing wide open and worse still, he popularised the races of Dunrealm so much that we could no longer live in peace. Every time we were spotted or a human stumbled upon us it was just one question after another and always a stupid impression of Gollum to go with it. For the last seventy-five years, all the races of Dunrealm have abided by a decree issued by the Council,¡± he swept his arms around the gathering, ¡°to only use our human forms in human company. Since then those damn books and lately technology has meant that it has been increasingly difficult for us to be who we truly are. Everybody has a camera, Google means there is nowhere hidden any more. It¡¯s a living bloody nightmare to be truthful.¡± I noticed him slipping into less eloquent, more earthy speech. ¡°And all because of one man. Tolkien.¡± The murmur was loud and prolonged this time. There were threats of all kinds made against his name. I¡¯m sure someone called him a wanker. ¡°Hang on a minute. Are you saying that everything in his stories is true? Elves, Dwarves, Ents, all that Tom Bombadil stuff?¡± ¡°Not entirely. Some of the stories were based on truth but most of the races he mentioned were real. A lot of the stuff he wrote was his own imaginings but he wrote the races almost off pat. I know Tom and he was pissed off at being portrayed as a prancing idiot and his wife? Suffice to say she is no Goldberry.¡± I heard a couple of sniggers from around the camp. ¡°How did he know about them though. I thought he made it all up to entertain his son.¡± Zinfell¡¯s face broke into a smile. ¡°You believed that load of old rubbish? Propaganda is all that was. Spin, as they call it now, or called it. How do you think he knew?¡± I stood looking at him, mouth open, I may even have dribbled slightly but that just added to my generally pungent facial hair. My brain wasn¡¯t working at its quickest and it wasn¡¯t helped by Geoff making the noise of a ticking clock and humming the theme music to Countdown over my shoulder. ¡°Sorry,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m not at my best right now. How did he know?¡± ¡°Because he was one of us.¡± ¡°Tolkien? An Elf? Are you being serious?¡± ¡°Not an Elf but he was of a Dunrealm race. How else would he know all that stuff?¡± ¡°He invented it, didn¡¯t he?¡± ¡°You think? All that history, all those songs, how many different languages? No man could have done that. Anyway, he wasn¡¯t an Elf.¡± ¡°Dwarf?¡± ¡°God, no.¡± ¡°Hobbit?¡± ¡°No, they were completely made up.¡± ¡°No hobbits? I thought you said all the races were real.¡± ¡°All except the hobbits.¡± He looked at me suspiciously for a moment. ¡°I mean come on. Hobbits? How could you even think they could be real? A long-lived half-size human with hairy feet that lives in a hole in the ground. Really? How likely is that?¡± Hoots of derision and laughter arose around the clearing. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you thought they were real.¡± Zinfell was laughing too now and the sound of Geoff howling with laughter behind me didn¡¯t help. I felt the colour start to rise in my cheeks, embarrassment at my mistake but then hobbits had always been my favourites. I said so out loud and, as though it had been cut off by a guillotine, the laughter stopped dead. All apart from one voice behind me that kept laughing until a stern look from Zinfell shut him up. Even Zinrel¡¯s grin had disappeared to be replaced by something that looked a lot like disappointment. Seeing her face like that made my insides lurch. Zinfell looked at me hard, taking one step toward me, pointing a finger into my face. ¡°Those little bastards¡­¡± ¡°Father, try to stay calm, think about your blood pressure.¡± Zinrel said, stepping over and putting a hand against his chest. ¡°Breathe. Be calm.¡± Zinfell looked at his daughter with fury in his eyes, fists clenching and unclenching until finally he let out a sigh and relaxed. ¡°Those . . . creatures ruined our lives, even though they weren¡¯t real. That wily old fox Tolkien knew what he was doing. He might as well have had cute little puppies as the heroes. They were the reason the books became so popular, why we had to drop out of sight. Bastards.¡± The sentiment was echoed several times by others around the fire. Zinfell took a couple of deep breaths with his eyes focused on the ground, then he seemed to calm before lifting his head again and looking at me. His eyes were violet just like Zinrel¡¯s but those eyes were lined by wisdom and the pain of a lifetime of having to pretend you are one thing when you are another. ¡°I see from my friend over there that dinner is ready. The Wanderer, would you join us so we may talk further. It will give me a chance to introduce the others and to find out a little about you and your half-elf history. It is the least I can offer for the way you helped Zinrel today.¡± I looked around me at the rest of the group and to be fair, there was not one single friendly face until I got back to Zinrel. She was nodding, her eyes wide with excitement. My insides lurched again, this time I was sure it was because I was famished. Although . . . ¡°I would be honoured to join you, Zinfell.¡± I said, giving him my sincerest smile. Thoughts of Elvish delicacies I¡¯d read about flashed through my mind. ¡°What do we have to eat?¡± Zinfell looked over my shoulder and lifted his chin. ¡°Spaghetti Bolognese,¡± a voice said from behind me. ¡°Mmmm. My favourite,¡± I said. Just another of life¡¯s little disappointments. Chapter Four After my second bowl of spaghetti, finished off by wiping the dish clean with a slice of bread somebody else had left, I realised just how hungry I had been. It had been a long time since I had eaten properly. I looked along at the bowls of the people closest to me but apart from one stray spaghetti strand that someone had dropped onto the grass, everybody else had cleaned up too. I looked around at the group of people assembled there. It was difficult to take in that this bunch of ordinary looking people were the Council of the Elder Races of Dunrealm. It looked more like a group of middle-aged old farts out for a camping trip in truth. Various tents had been set up around the clearing and I needed to pitch mine too but for now I was simply fascinated. I had a quick count while I tried to work a stray lump of meat out of my teeth. I only stopped when I realised that Zinrel was watching intently from her place next to me on a downed tree trunk. I can¡¯t honestly say that she looked impressed. I counted thirteen adults, including me and Zinrel. There were a couple of bored looking early teens and one of the women of the group who looked to be in her thirties nursed a babe-in-arms. Zin and I were the only people there who looked to be in their early twenties. Forties and fifties abounded at a guess. I didn¡¯t count Geoff as he seemed to have disappeared somewhere for the time being, plus he was only a skeleton and he was not real. I must keep remembering that. There was a murmur of gentle conversation among the different people that ebbed and flowed naturally as the evening had progressed until Zinfell rose from where he had been sitting and strode into the centre of the clearing. The murmuring lifted to a crescendo then died away to silence, broken only by the sound of the breeze rustling and whispering in the trees surrounding the clearing. Before her father started to speak I felt Zinrel edge along the trunk so our bodies were side by side, then she fed her arm through mine and rested her hand on my thigh and her head on my shoulder. Normally I would have wondered what she thought she was doing but in the present company I didn¡¯t feel as if I could push her away. In fact, I didn¡¯t want to. I liked the closeness and I also liked the fact that she hadn¡¯t changed out of her ripped top and it was just starting to fall open again. Tingles like you wouldn¡¯t believe. I put my own hands protectively over my crotch, just in case anything showed. Zinfell raised a hand and everything fell silent, even the rustling in the trees. Impressive. ¡°Council members, friends, kings and queens, welcome. It gladdens my heart to see all of you again and brings hope to me that we can find a way to overcome our current problems. Now that we have all met here we can begin the final part of our journey to find Vulexon and discover from him what has happened to destroy the humans. While the humans have been the cause of great concerns to the elder races over the last two centuries or more, they have also made remarkable advances that we have benefitted from even in small ways. The fact that they have been so easily destroyed brings fear to my heart that whatever or whoever was the cause of such huge destruction, may have similar plans for the rest of us. I only hope Vulexon knows the cause and will help us in our desire to stop it before it is too late. We start our journey tomorrow so we need now to retire and rest before the exertions we face. Some of us are not getting any younger.¡± A murmur of amused agreement rose from several people who were listening intently to Zinfell¡¯s speech. He held up his hand again and the murmur subsided. ¡°As you all know, whenever the council meets there is a large celebration but this time, to keep our movements as low-key as possible, there will be no celebration tonight.¡± He stopped talking for a moment and looked around the crowd. ¡°Tonight, a great boon was given to us in the arrival of another of our number, the half-elf known as The Wanderer. I think we all can see the strength The Wanderer has inside him, even though he clearly knows little of it himself.¡± Everybody in the crowd turned to look at me. I blushed and looked at the floor, unable to meet the many gazes turned on me. I looked up again when Zinfell spoke again. ¡°Further, we the council need to make a decision.¡± Silence fell complete again. ¡°It is a decision we have delayed for a while as we tried to discover what had happened to the humans and whether there were any left at all. The reports from all of you have finally persuaded me that the humans have been destroyed completely. On our respective journeys here, the only other find was a female half-elf wandering in a state of ignorance and in poor health. She was not well enough to join us tonight.¡± I perked up a little at the knowledge that I wasn¡¯t the only person in the same position. Maybe she would know a bit more about what was going on. ¡°As you know, the orders have gone out for all of our respective peoples to gather in our traditional homes and that process has begun. Soon, all will be as it was before the humans became too numerous for us to maintain our separation from them. The decision we need to take tonight is whether it is time to rescind the decree that keeps us all in our human forms. The last seventy-five years have taken a toll on our peoples. Being forced to act and live within human communities has come at a great cost. None of us here know what it is like to live in our original forms and many of our people have lost many of the magical abilities they may have had though a lack of use. I only hope that situation is one that can be reversed.¡± The crowd murmured in agreement.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Now is our chance to change all that but we must be as one in this. We should each have a chance to speak on the matter. For the benefit of our new addition though I would ask that you introduce yourselves before you make known your views. I will begin by saying that I, Zinfell, King of the Elves vote that we should rescind and return to our natural forms. I think I speak for my wife, Zindell, Queen of the Elves on this matter.¡± He held out a hand toward a woman sitting on the floor just to my right who nodded her approval. He nodded back his thanks. ¡°Very well, the process begins. Each of you should take your place here and declare aye or nay for rescinding but introduce yourself first for the benefit of The Wanderer there.¡± He pointed at me as if I hadn¡¯t been sitting there all evening and walked back to take his seat again. A man and woman rose from the other side of the rough circle we were all sitting in and moved slowly to the centre. Both looked entirely ordinary, indistinguishable from a normal human. The woman spoke. ¡°I thank Zinfell for the opportunity to speak. On behalf of my people I, Beechheart, and my husband, Oakheart, Rulers of the Ents of Dunrealm vote aye to rescind. I ache for the day my people may yet again sink their roots into the earth.¡± A round of applause broke out as they headed back to where they had been sitting before. Two other people stopped to hug them as they made their way toward the centre. Nothing remarkable about the new people. The woman carried her baby with her. This all went on for a while and I was so knackered that I started to zone out. Much as it was incredible that all this was going on in front of me, my eyes were constantly drawn away by Zinrel¡¯s ever more gaping blouse. From what I can remember of the parade of people¡ªor whatever they were¡ª there were several surprises. First that so many races were represented. I counted five. Elves, Ents, Fae, Dwarves, and Giants. The other big surprise was that the dwarves had two representative families on the council. A couple whose names I can¡¯t remember representing the southern dwarves and Gwilliom who represented the ¡®real¡¯¡ªhis word not mine¡ªdwarves of Dunrealm, from the north. I recognised his voice as being one of those who pinned me down when I first got to the camp. For a dwarf, he was very heavy. Zin tried to explain the differences between northern and southern dwarves but by that time I was almost asleep. I decided I could ask again in the morning. After the last council member voted to rescind their human forms, Zinfell took centre stage again. ¡°My friends,¡± he said as he held out his hands and turned in a semicircle to everyone present, ¡°our decision today is a momentous one and while I am sure there are those among us who would wish to perform the transition here and now, the hour is late. I propose that we all rest for the night and clear our minds ready for what will be a historic day tomorrow. Does anyone here say nay?¡± There were a couple of muted grumbles but no one said nay. I did briefly wonder what would have happened if I had said nay but I didn¡¯t want to embarrass myself in front of all these people. ¡°In that case my friends and fellow Council Members, I would bid you all get some rest for tomorrow we start our quest to find Vulexon and reforge the age-old partnership between the council and the wizards.¡± He started to walk away but then stopped, held up one finger, and returned to the centre. ¡°Could I just ask please that Gwilliom and Tore? If you wouldn¡¯t mind keeping the argument about who is the strongest of the dwarves to something below shouting level, I and the rest of the council would be most grateful and of course Nog and Sussin? If you really must copulate every night I¡¯d appreciate it if you could keep the screaming to a minimum? And yes Nogmalog, King of the Giants, I do mean you.¡± A small murmur of laughing approval followed the speech from everyone apart from a middle-aged man wearing a pair of walking shorts, his spindly, lily-white legs poking out the bottom and sporting what must have been no bigger than size seven boots. He looked a bit shamefaced although I did notice the satisfied grin on what I assume was his wife¡¯s face. The two teenagers that seemed to be with them just looked mortified. Once that was over with, the night wound down. The fire that had crackled and hissed all night started to burn down until, after a half-hour it was little more than a pile of blackened and glowing embers that increased in brightness every time a gentle breeze blew through the camp, scattering sparks downwind. I noticed nobody had set up a tent directly downwind and realised why now. Eventually I managed to disentangle myself from Zin, although I really didn¡¯t want to, grabbed my pack, and went looking for a space to pitch my tent. Within fifteen minutes I was set up. I went into the bushes to relieve the strain on my bladder, climbed into my sleeping bag and shuffled inside. I know you would normally do that the other way around but I wanted one last look at Zinrel before I slept. I watched as she strolled across the grass to where her family was camping out. My God she is stunning. I thought to myself. Then with a wistful sigh, went inside my patched and almost waterproof tent to get some much-needed sleep.