A young man wandered not too far from the wizard’s isolated home. He was an adventurer and rarely stayed in one place for long. The man always seemed to travel alone rather than with others. His reason for so? Well, he always blatantly told others: ‘Ye ne’r know when they’ll come n’ stab ye in ye’r back.’

The man was rough, his skin darkened by the sun and streaked with dirt. His hair was as dark as the wet dirt path that stretched across the forest and he had a beard as wiry as a tree’s branches bare. His cobblestone eyes held firm in a glare, such an expression held for so long that his muscles had frozen, keeping him only to that stern look.

He had wandered far from Levarth’dol, the Boundless City of Aurtriel. He wished to make an appearance in Grauknok’s Hall, a dwarven city he heard to have the best mead. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure of the way to the great dwarven hall. He was reluctant to use a map, for he believed a true man could find his way without the aid of ‘useless elven tools’.

The male followed the path, sure it would lead to where he needed to go. He liked to wander off path, but the forest was luscious and full of dangerous creatures, so he stayed on the path with hopes he wouldn’t have to draw his blade.

Through the abundance of trees, the adventurer saw a wooden shack on the side of the mountain, about a mile down the path. There was no sign of Grauknok’s city in the distance, so he figured he wasn’t near it at all. The man then decided he would visit the shack and gain information on the city’s whereabouts and perhaps a warm meal too.

***

In the shack on the mountain side lived Torheng. He had woken with a crick in his neck from having slept in his chair. As his eyes fluttered open, his blurred vision found a colorful figure resting on his chest. Blinking a few times to clear his vision, the figure took the shape of a small gnome. Torheng’s face twisted into an expression of surprise and horror. Typically, most smaller gnomes were rather devious. He quickly stood and launched the creature off of his chest. With a startled and terrified cry, the gnome crashed into a wall, only to soon fall into a familiar pile of discarded bowls. A rat, he would have expected at most, but a gnome had found its way into his home!

Staring at the pile of bowls, Torheng waited to see if there was anything there. He thought, perhaps, he had dreamt up the creature suddenly. Perhaps that he was seeing things. However, the small, now dizzy gnome emerged from the pile, pushing the bowls aside to escape the spherical prison. The gnome soon looked at Torheng and began to speak, muttering what seemed like nonsense.

“Je’ilaz weyar belwera lamgnoej,” he said, placing a hand to the side of his head as he stumbled towards the mage. The gnome spoke the common tongue of his kind, not at all similar to that of man.

Torheng opened his mouth to speak, but realized that the gnome was still an intruder. He shouldn’t act at all welcoming. The thought to question the gnome crossed his mind, but he then realized that he wouldn’t be able to understand the small thing. He thought to cast a spell, as any potion he made would simply be worthless. Nodding to himself in approval of the idea, he rummaged through the novels and unorganized papers upon his desk in attempts to find his spell book. As he removed the book from under a pile of potion recipes and snack crumbs, he heard a knock on the door.

A groan escaped the apothecary’s lips and he tossed the spell book onto his desk. He scooped up the gnome and squeezed him tight. “You, stay put. Leave move at all and I’ll… I’ll throw you to the wilds!” He exclaimed, setting him atop his desk before weaving his figure about columns of books lying about his home.

Upon opening the door, Torheng was greeted by a large, gruff looking man. He wore a black cloak that sunk down to the heels of his worn leather boots; the ends of it tattered and browned by dirt. His pants matched his cloak in dirt and color. A leathery belt with a golden buckle snaked around his waist, holding his pants and tucked, what should be a white shirt, into place. While his clothes spoke of his adventures, he wore an unusually large, black hat with silkended silver trim and a large peacock feather sticking out of the dark gray band weaving around the base of the hat. He caught the gaze of many through his dressings. Whether they be curious, admiring, or repulsed, is unknown.

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“Me name is Arcius! Come from Levarth’dol yes I have. Ye’ must be the proprietor!” He exclaimed in a cheery manner, a wide toothy smile stretched across his lips as he spoke. Arcius welcomed himself into Torheng’s shack, not having let the poor mage get a word out. Several tall towers of books toppled to the ground as he bumped into them, carelessly walking about.

“Ye’r an apothecary? Thought I smelt the stench of potion works an’ witchcraft.” Arcius snarled. He was superstitious as he was stubborn.

Arcius turned to scan the room, only to see Torheng’s most recent discovery upon the desk not far from the front door. “Ye got yourself a miniature dwarf with a pointy hat? Not much of use is ye, tiny dwarf.” He spoke, leaning down to examine the small gnome.

Before Torheng could speak a word to the adventurer, Arcius began to speak again. “Me’s come from Levarth’dol, as said before, to find way to Guaknok’s Hall! Saw this shack from up on the mountain side n’ figured I could come down and get some help from ye!” Arcius explained, his voice booming. The adventurer seemed so accustomed to this volume, that it might take great effort to make him lower his voice.

“I am Torheng Svanulfur. I am an apothecary,” He began, though pausing for a moment to question if he could even be considered an apothecary considering his accomplishments in the trade. “That there is a gnome, not a dwarf! And just what might you need my help with so urgently that you’ve burst into my home and made a mess of things!” He said through the grit of his teeth, his brow furrowing as he could finally express his annoyance. “If anyone is willing to take in someone so rude as yourself, they’ll be willing to give you directions to Grauknok’s Hall!”

Arcius wasn’t to tolerate the unwelcoming alchemist, much less being denied bedrest, a warm meal and directions. He was determined to gain what he needed, or wanted, regardless of what the man in front of him was to say.

“Ye’r like a wasp that had its nest dropped n’ a bucket o’ water! Ye must be thinking meself is rude, but dare say ye should look at ye’rself! Damn wizard just as bad as ye magic, hot tempered n’ all. Can’t ye support a weary traveler! I only be asking of three simple things!” The adventurer growled.

Torheng opened his mouth to speak, only to close it as he couldn’t find words to say. Torheng wasn’t at all as angry as a wasp might be, or at least he didn’t act like it. But again, he wasn’t the type to reject someone in need. Torheng reasoned that the man hadn’t stayed in any homestead, but instead wandered across Aurtriel, and hence he treated anywhere he could rest as his home. Yes, this would explain his attitude, Torheng thought to himself.

With a sigh, He nodded and finally closed the shack door. “Very well… My apologies. What is it that you need?” He asked hesitantly, his reasoning overcoming his feelings for the adventurer.

Pleased that he had gotten Torheng to agree in offering help, a wide grin replaced his scorned expression. “I be wishin’ for a place to stay the night. These here forests can be rather dangerous. Ye’ ne’er know what lurks in ‘em!” Arcius exclaimed cherrily. “Me will also be needin’ a nice warm meal, mead too if ye’ got any. Most importantly, I be needin’ directions to that Grauknok’s hall.”

Torheng’s home wasn’t the largest. His room was about the size of a small garden shed, the bathroom was too. The majority of his home was the living space, but it looked ever so small on the inside for books lined the walls so thickly that it appeared at least twice as small as it originally was. A large island in the center, in which he did all his experiment upon, was cluttered with material and papers, the outside of it also lined with books as well. Pushed against the island’s side closest to the door was the desk in which the small gnome sat upon. A kitchen was the one thing he hardly had and thought he hardly needed. All edible supply was kept in the small cellar under his home, for it wasn’t something to use in an experiment.

“Well food I can supply, as well as directions. However, I’m unsure of how to supply you with a warm bed. I don’t have much room, as you can see.” Torheng said, gesting to the filled home.

“I hear ye’ wizards are night owls, aren’t ye.” Arcius said with a grin, knowing he had won the other’s hospitality.