Snarl took one look at the remnants of the dragon’s lair and set to work, cheerfully humming as he swept up the ashes and charcoal left behind, a job that would take him some time given the amount of it. It had taken an effort to drag him away, to eat a simple repast that Chance had put together from bits and pieces of food that they had found around the place.

Once they had finished, Snarl returned to his sweeping and tidying and humming. Chance shook his head at it. The gnoll was obsessed.

“I’d like to go visit the troll,” he announced. “I am hoping that he can give me some answers to some of my questions.”

“Have fun,” grinned Snarl. “We saw him about a time or two but avoided him. He was liable to have something of value that we could have scavenged, but, well, messing with trolls is not a smart move.”

Chance took his druid’s staff with him as they left, rather than the spear, as it would be of little use if things did go wrong; the staff was handy for walking, and at the least, he knew what it did. Yrip followed along loyally behind, but Shags had other ideas.

I will meet you back here when you return, he stated.

You don’t wish to meet the troll?

There isn’t anything I need for him, but I feel the need to hunt. Not that I haven't appreciated your efforts, but I need fresh meat. I am a wolf, after all, not a dwarf.

Try not to get into trouble.

Shags loped off with a wolfy grin, disappearing into the forest.

“Just you and me, then, Yrip,” Chance stated. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“I’ll come, master,” the little kobold stated, bouncing about eagerly. “I want to meet the troll.”

“You do?” That surprised Chance, as the kobold hadn’t made any mention of it before.

“Yes, yes. I have questions for him.”

A brow twitched at Yrip’s answer but Chance didn’t press it. It was for Yrip to share if he wished.

They followed the path beside the flowing stream, all the way to where the forest faded away and the swamp with the ruins appeared. The waters of it were still and brackish, with many reeds growing around its edges and swarms of small bugs hovering above the waters.

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The broken ruins stood out obvious upon the island at the heart of the swamp, a low laying rise of land protruding above the water. Apart from a few broken walls of some long fallen building, it was the tower that stood out most, tall and square. While old, it appeared solid and stable still.

The issue was how to get to it, as there was no obvious path across to the island.

It seemed that the only way to reach it would be to wade across, through the water, and the reeds and insects. Chance stroked his beard with one hand as he studied the situation. “I am not sure how deep it is,” he told Yrip. “Getting across may not be easy. I guess he isn’t too fond of random visitors.”

“Maybe we should reconsider?” Yrip asked.

Chance shook his head, firmly. “No. I need this. We need this.” He poked at the water’s edge with his staff. It wasn’t too deep, if a little muddy. “We’ll have to pick our way carefully.”

Slowly he entered the water, pushing out into it, through the reeds that clustered along the bank. Insects descended upon him, a swarm of them buzzing around his head, some biting at his skin. He slapped away at them with his free hand while the other used his staff to probe away before him, seeking out any hazards that might be hidden beneath the murky waters.

The water gradually deepened as they pushed forward, rising ever upwards, reaching to his knees and then his waist. He turned to look back at Yrip who was forging on resolutely behind, but the water was even higher up on him. He stopped and looked ahead again. They were not even halfway across and the water would no doubt be much deeper further on.

“Climb aboard,” he told Yrip.

“Master?”

“Climb up. I’ll carry you,” Chance told him. “This is going to be too deep for you otherwise.”

“Are you sure, master?”

Chance nodded and knelt down, the water rising halfway up his chest. Yrip clambered up onto his shoulders and perched there. Chance stood back up again; the kobold didn’t weigh a lot and the shoulders of his dwarven body were broad and stocky.

He pushed on again, wading solidly through the murky waters, probing ahead with his staff. The waters continued to rise ever more and rose to a point that it had reached his neck, with the kobold’s legs dangling in it.

He was half wondering if they would have to turn back, for there was little more room for them if it got too deep but he judged they were about halfway across and so he persevered. The sound of insects continued to ring about him and dance across the surface of the water.

The waters began to recede; they had reached the lowest point and were now climbing back up out of the water, headed to the far shore. Even with the tough and enduring body of a dwarf, he was beginning to tire a bit, struggling through the water, pushing through reeds, mud clinging to his boots and with the kobold on his shoulders.

Still further the waters receded, coming down his chest to his waist and it was with relief when Yrip hopped off again and started to make his own way.

Finally, they reached the far side, pulling themselves up out of the water. Chance sat down on the shore of the island, dripping with water, his boots heavy with mud. It had been a struggle, but they had made it. He just needed a moment to catch his breath, to recover. At least he knew why the troll lived there; it was an ordeal for anyone to visit and so he would have his privacy.

Finally Chance stood up again, pushing himself up with his staff. “Let's go and find Elder Maedryn.”