"The picnic is lost in an unexpected hail storm! The newborn wails for mother’s nipple in the wee hours of the morning! Our chance for a midday meal ended with Bobtart Towne’s forgetting our established alliance with him. The hour grows ever more late for said meal," Ty the Parson said in a flail of limbs that led into a wild spin, ending in a wide-legged stance, staff pointing to the sun, which dipped into the early afternoon sky.
"The overflowing pot of sparkly coins at rainbow’s end! Bosom buddies know intimate details of one another’s lives! We lucked into finding Roxx’s cart. With you and he being such close friends, you surely know how to arrange a meal," he said in a flurry of limbs that brought him around to face Tarftenrott.
"Hu-h-h-hu-hey, R-ru-ru-roxx a-and I-I w-wu-w-w-were f-fu-f-friends, s-s-su-su-sure, b-bu-b-b-but thu-thu-that du-d-du-du-doesn’t m-mu-mu-mean—" Tarftenrott’s denial was interrupted by a loud grumble from his own stomach. He frowned, looked from his stomach to his fellow travelers and turned to the cart, saying, "I-I’ll s-su-su-see whu-whu-what I-I c-c-cu-cu-c-can d-d-du-do."
What he did was grope through the cart’s drawers and cabinets, and what he found, rather quickly, was fine fare for lunch. From a cabinet he located a chilled hunk of roasted pork and jug of apple juice, from a drawer came a loaf of bread and from a neighboring drawer cutlery to make sandwiches, and lastly from another cabinet he brought forth glasses for the drink. Each item found he placed on the cart’s counter, and as everyone approached, he went to work.
In quick order, everyone held a ham sandwich and glass of apple juice. They moved off to find a comfortable spot to settle down and eat.
Orlon and Tarl Bimbo took a seat on the opposite side of the road from the forest. Nothing was said between them, as each was lost in his own thoughts. And the way their eyes wandered back and forth between the opening into the forest and the road going around it revealed both were thinking about which direction the Party would take from here…. One time their eyes met, and they quickly looked away.
Nearing the end of his meal, Tarl chanced a glance at his best friend and inwardly smiled. The last time they had the choice of following the road around or the path through this accursed forest Ty the Parson proclaimed it could only be decided by Orlon. Well, that had been at this journey’s beginning, and now they were closing in on its end. Orlon was not the big wig anymore. Therefore, the choice of which direction to go should be anybody’s to make.
Tarl had a definite opinion on that choice this time.
That opinion was to take the road around the forest. Oh, it was not that he was afraid of Dark Forest—he let a hand come to rest on the hilt of his trustworthy sword "Wasp"—as it was he wanted to lengthen the trip, just to see a little more of the world before reaching home. To see whatever was along the road around the forest would be…something to see, and he was determined to speak up when the time came.
With each bite of his sandwich, Orlon considered their options of continuing the journey home. He was relieved the decision was not solely up to him this time, and yet he was concerned about it. Not only had the quest been a long one for him, there was an unattended crop awaiting him when he got home. He needed to get home as soon as possible.
His eyes focused on the opening into the forest. He gulped, shivered. The problem with his desire to get home quickly was the quickest away was the dangerous way.
Then into his mind came a name: Jujay! With that name came a catch in his throat, a tear in his eye. His trusty old servant had died in Dark Forest. Died and been left behind all in the name of their need to hurry.
He popped the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth, chewed it contemplatively. Memory of the servant he had known his entire life, the man who served his family and later him so loyally, put him in a different state of mind in terms of getting home quickly. The idea of facing the horrors of the forest, pausing long enough to perform a burial did not thrill him much, but he could not imagine leaving Jujay to rot in there, forgotten.
When everyone had swallowed their last bite, washed it down with a final drink of apple juice, they gathered around the cart and placed their glasses on its counter. Tarftenrott was not sure what to do with them, or the utensils, then remembered something he had seen Roxx do with dirty dishes and the like. The stuttering warrior placed them in a lower cabinet, where they fit nicely, and closed its door.
There followed a moment of awkward silence, filled with fidgeting and glances amongst the Party. And it was clear to Tarl what their unease was about. A decision as to which way to go must be made, and they all were awaiting Ty the Parson to begin the conversation. He kept his eye on the Parson with plans of his own…. A twitch of the cloaked shoulders told him the verbose man was about to start his oration—and Tarl opened his mouth to cut him off…
"I think we should take the path through Dark Forest again," Orlon said.
"What?" Tarl gave his best friend a double-take.
"We left Jujay in there, Tarl," he answered the double-take, "and I think it only right we find his body and offer him a proper burial."
Mumblings amongst the Party told Tarl they were in agreement with Orlon’s reasoning, and to be honest, he found he could not dispute his reasoning either. Jujay may have been nothing more than a bothersome old servant to him, but there was no denying Orlon’s love and affection for the old coot. The feel of his sword at hip gave him both the confidence to face the forest’s dangers and the thoughtfulness to put aside his desire to lengthen the journey a little more. He looked up the road, sighed and turned back to his best friend.
"Jujay was a good servant—man, buddy," he said, and he turned to the others to say, "I say we do as Orlon requests."
Another moment of awkward silence descended on the scene. It ended with a twitch of Ty the Parson’s shoulders, followed by a wild spin into a wide-legged stance, his sappy staff pointing at the opening into the forest.
Without a word, he darted through it. One by one, starting with Shing, they followed him.
Roars, howls, growls and snarls assaulted their ears, yet beyond an initial cringe they did not react to the ear-splitting noise. They well remembered it from their first trip through Dark Forest. Still, they did stop. What stopped them was memory of when they entered this small clearing before. It was here they met the Oriental Ranger, an imposing figure indeed, and the disastrous splitting of the Grumpling by Marcol occurred, leaving two Richtichtiares to belabor the mercenary with insults.
They looked to the split in the thorny bushes across the clearing, the path just visible beyond, and their minds turned to the losses they suffered when they crossed the forest four days ago. Five members of the Party had lost their lives.
No one was more affected by this thought than Tarl, who remembered Jack, Frank and Carlo, three friends he made on this trip only to lose them along the path. When images of their gruesome—gross demises came to his mind he was far from the desire to offer them decent burial like Orlon wished to give Jujay. In fact, he did not even want to see their remains…
His thoughts shifted to the person responsible for his friendship with the three swordsmen. Mishto Sharpaine had been awaiting them before a tent on Dwarf Road, right where the Party ended up camping for the night. While her inviting smile was ignored by most, Jack, Carlo and Frank were drawn right to her. Once Orlon was settling in for the night with Sharna, Tarl, having nowhere else to go, was drawn to her, too, along with hopes of striking up a dice game in the mix.