Pagewalker (31 page)

“Is that the way you're leaving me my love,
have you finally found a way to escape me?" laughed the
story-teller.

"Sure I was won," she said. "You would not
cheat the poor man, would you?" Winking to her husband she
mockingly rested her head on the beggar’s shoulder.

"Have you anything more to offer?" asked the
old man.

"You know very well I have nothing, you
already have my most valuable possession" replied the
storyteller.

"I'll stake the whole now, wife and all,
against your own self," said the old man.

“ME?”

“Yes, everything you have against everything
you are”

“Everything I am cannot be taken friend, I am
one in a million!” The story teller thrust out his chest in a
playful theatrical manner. His wife laughed and so did the old
beggar.

“We will see” said the beggar in a mocking
tone, He then lay the stones, pieces and dice on the ground in
front of them.

Again they played, and again the story-teller
lost.

"Well! Here I am, and what do you want with
me?"

"I'll soon let you know," said the old man,
and he took from his pocket a wand.

"Now," said he to the story-teller, "what
kind of animal would you rather be, a deer, a fox, or a hare? You
have your choice now, but you may not have it later."

The story-teller made his choice,

“A hare”

The old man, struck him with the wand, and
lo! A long-eared, frisking hare was skipping and jumping on the
green.

The storyteller’s wife laughed as she watched
her husband jumping around in front of her,

“That is a great trick, you are a great
wizard! You can stay with us any time you so wish! But now as I am
your new wife, can I ask you one favour?”

The beggar turned to his newly acquired wife,
“Already making demands, I see now why he gambled you for
money”

“My real husband is a story teller but today
he awoke with no stories, he has finally run out, could you please
tell him some so he may please the king?”

The beggar laughed and waved his wand once
more, “Better yet, I will show him”

Suddenly Belle the dog grew double in size,
her hair longer, teeth sharper, legs firmer and eyes clearer, ~She
Spotted the hair and chased her from sight of the beggar.

The Story-teller fled, the dog followed.
Round the field ran a high wall, so no matter how fast he ran, he
couldn't get out, the beggar and lady watched him twist and double.
Back and forth, over the hills and under the trees, through stalls
in the market, knocking over shoppers and stalls as they burst
through the town square.

In vain the story-teller took refuge with a
shop keep, but on the realisation of the shop keeps profession as
butcher the story teller scarpered! The Butcher kicked him back
again to the hound, until at length the beggar stopped the hound,
and with a stroke of the wand, panting and breathless, Belle shrank
down to her normal size and calmly walked over to sit by the
story-teller’s wife. Another twist of the wand and there stood the
story-teller again.

"And how did you like the sport?" said the
beggar.

"It might be sport to others," replied the
story-teller looking at his wife, "I however will never eat or hunt
rabbit again!”

"Would it be asking too much," he went on to
the beggar, "to know who you are at all, or where you come from, or
why you take a pleasure in plaguing a silly old man like me?"

"Oh !" replied the stranger, " I'm an odd
kind of good-for-little fellow, one day poor, another day rich, but
if you wish to know more about me or my habits, come with me and
perhaps I may show you more than you would make out if you went
alone."

"I'm not my own master to go or stay," said
the story-teller, with a sigh and a glance to his wife.

“Go, both of you, Belle will remain with me
and we will spend my new husband’s money!”

Both men laughed and agreed to adventure
farther. The Story teller-kissed his wife and joined the beggar on
the road. “I will have great stories to tell my dear when I
return!” He shouted back to his wife!

“I have no doubt of that, my love” She
replied and watched the two blend into the crowd and disappear.

A little while down the path, out of the town
of Aondor, past the City of Sáann on the Horizon. Past the town of
Dawn and heading East onto Lake Regal on their right, the Beggar
stopped. He sat on a large stone and began to wash his feet and
hands. The Storyteller noticed scars up the beggar’s legs and arms
and large scars and bruises around his wrists. On his left foot was
an iron bracelet with two links of chain attached to it. The beggar
noticed the storytellers gaze and covered his arms again with his
cloak.

“She is still your wife my friend, there are
some things a man cannot take from another. Your trust being
another. I cast a spell on you to turn you into an animal and even
after that you still trust and wish to travel as my companion for a
while. That truly is a gift from you in itself, I thank you” Said
the Beggar.

“Never before have I met a man such as
yourself, please tell me, what is your name? Where do you hail
from?”

The beggar remained seated. Starting at his
hands he recollected his long history. I have been many places my
friend, made many mistakes, hurt many folk and only now as an old
man do I feel remorse and guilt. Only now do I wish to make it
right.” The beggar stood once more and lifted a long branch from
the ground. A strong, sturdy branch that would act well as a
walking stick for him. “You may have noticed that I have a leg
missing and the other is bound by chains. I was once in Prison. In
the City of Renir. I had stolen many things. Made a living as a
rogue, pickpocket and sell sword. For many years I travelled
Northland preying off the week and wealthy until one day I met my
match. After our altercation my freedom was taken and I have called
the prison in Renir my home for many years. That is also where my
leg remains. The rest of me was not willing to stay much longer.
That is a story for another time though my friend. We have much
travelling yet to do today.” The Beggar began to walk on leaving
the story teller full of excitement. This was what he needed for a
good story to tell His king. He wanted to learn more about the
beggar and this ‘altercation.’

“Please, I don’t know your name, I do not
wish to call you beggar on our travels, what should I call
you?”

The Beggar Laughed, “Just call me,
friend.”

After a long time on the road. They
approached the Great Dwarf City. Its True name cannot be said by
the tongues of men. It is written in such deep dwarfish that most
dwarves call it simply “The City”

“Your wife asked me to show you stories. Here
we will find a great few tales for your books! But you cannot be
seen, you must stay hidden.” Said the Beggar

“But how can a see these great halls, hear
these songs and live these tales if I hide out here.” Remarked the
storyteller

“No, you will be with me but you must trust
me, do you trust me?”

“I Suppose I have no choice but you have been
fair thus far when you could have taken everything and left
me.”

“Good!” The Beggar again took out his wand
and tapped it on The Story-Tellers head.

“Wait!”

“Yes?”

“Please, not a rodent again, they smell
awful!”

The Beggar laughed and agreed, the wand
tapped the story-tellers head shrinking him down to the size of a
mouse. The Story Teller Lifted him onto his shoulder and told him
to hide amongst his hair and he will be able to see everything if
he is quiet.

Grand Master Penla was in his hall, after
returning from the Great Battle of Northland where he alone
re-united the dwarf clans into a single army to fight for the fate
of Northland and won the freedom they so deserved. He returned and
re-established the City and was elected king shortly after. The
road was long however and the clans of dwarves do not agree on
things easily, Penla has worked hard on unity and bringing the
cultures together to help the dwarf city thrive once more.
Heaviness of flesh and weariness of spirit were upon him. He was
tired and weary of ruling, He missed travelling in his cart and
selling the scraps he salvaged and stole. The Life of a king was
never meant for him as it was his friend Dertrid

"Go out," he said to his doorkeeper, “see
who, or what may be coming."

The doorkeeper went, and what he saw was a
lank, grey beggar man; half his sword showing from behind his
haunch, his two shoes were damp from swamp water, trousers torn
from climbing and sleeping rough on the roads, the tips of his two
ears poking out through his old hat and his two scared shoulders
out through his scant tattered cloak, and in his hand a green wand
of holly.

"Hail, King Penla," said the lank grey beggar
man.

"Yes, yes, and you likewise," said Penla.
"Where are you from traveller, what brought you here, and what is
your craft?"

“I travelled from the stream of earth.
Through bogs and steams and pits of terf, A night from once the
moon was born, from on the cold hillside with waves to my back.

"Ah HA! A traveller that speaks with the
tongue of a Bard, a poet telling tales of adventure from afar? What
a great traveller you must be," said Penla. "Maybe you've learnt
something on the road, but I ask again, WHY are you here?"

"I am a performer, I am travelling to learn
skills from the major races in Northland. I am sure there is lots I
could learn from a dwarven king such as yourself. Although I notice
you are tired great king, would you permit me to entertain you?"
said the lank grey beggarman, "and for five pieces of silver you
shall see a trick great of mine."

"You shall have 10 if you can bring light to
these halls again. I feel blind with exhaustion. Years of work and
worry have drained the colour from my eyes." said Penla; the lank
grey beggarman took three large axes from the weapon rack at the
side of the hall. They were Dwarven forged axes, crusted diamond
and hardened, varnished bog wood with stone grip and jewelled
heads. It took three trips to carry them one at a time as they were
too heavy for him to carry together. The Beggar man placed them on
the floor.

"The middle one," he pointed, "I'll blow
away; the other two I'll leave."

A crowd had begun to gather as the commotion
and laughter grew as people gathered to watch the old skinny beggar
try to drag a heavy axe to the throne room floor.

"There is no way in 3 hells you can do that
human," said one and all.

But the lank grey beggarman put a finger on
either outside Axe and, whiff, away he blew the middle one.

The crowd gasped and cheered and an
astonished Penla took to his feet!

"'Tis a good trick," said the king; and he
paid him his ten pieces of silver.

At that moment Penla realised he was
laughing. It was the first time he had laughed in many years.

“Thank you traveller, this hall has not heard
sounds of joy in many a long year, we are in your debt. Please tell
me what we can do to repay you for a gift as good as this.”

Suddenly the spell cast on the story-teller
began to wear off, he burst to full size once more and fell to the
floor on the court room! The Dwarves fall back in excitement and
dismay, amazed at yet another trick played by the beggar. As the
storyteller made his way to his feet he knew of nothing that would
be said to explain so he simply bowed and so did the beggar,
playing along that this was another planned trick.

“Come forward new one” Penla gestured towards
the story teller. “You wear the robes of a well-to-do man but on
you cloak I see the Seal of Sáann. My friend, King Dertrid does not
award those lightly. Do you sit in his court?”

“Yes great king, I am his Story Teller and
Bard. However I regret that I am a story teller that has run out of
stories, please tell me a great dwarven tale so I can bring that to
my king and stay in his court for another short while.

Penla sent for his librarian and told him to
bring a book of dwarven tales to the travellers.

“This book contains the very history of our
people. The stories and tales contained in this book should keep
you in good stead with King Dertrid for many years to come!”

“There is one more thing I would ask of you
King,” The beggerman whispered.

“Yes, my friend what will it be?” Penla
replied. The begger man simply passed a small note of parchment to
Penla. He read it and passed it to a court assistant, who in tern
scuttled behind the throne to collect whatever he had requested.
Penla looked to the beggerman and simply nodded, then turned back
to fix his gaze on the story teller.

In total awe the story teller accepted and
stayed in the hall for a great feast where he told them many of the
tales he had written for King Dertrid, much to the amusement and
enjoyment of the dwarves. After a full day and night of feast,
festivities and drunken foolery the two travellers left the dwarven
city and headed south along the coast of the Black Panint toward
The Dark Elves home of Xill.

Xill was a large city built into the very
ground of a large peninsula, wrapping itself around the Elf Gulf.
The Lough here was said to have magical waters and the Story teller
wished very much to bathe in it, but on their arrival they were
escorted through the massive gates, built into the stone with woven
tree trunks and ivy, and ordered to bow in front of the Prince. The
halls of Xill were vast but dark. All stone was made of dark,
emerald glass. The little light there was illuminated a dark bottle
green. Everything seemed as though looking through emerald tinted
spectacles. The skin of the dark elves was a charcoal grey but the
tint of green turn the reflection of their faces a reptilian shiny
shade. The story teller was made to stay while the beggar walked
with the prince. He could not hear what they spoke about but the
two spoke as old friends. No hostility could be sensed but the
storyteller got the feeling the Beggar was frustrated with the
interaction.