‘Thirty years, it has been.’ thought the mouse as he was making his way around the castle’s keep. Through several holes, and cracks. ‘Thirty years since that cursed elf came into our kingdom and ruined it, ruined everything.’ Herbert, as the mouse was named, thought back to when the keep had been a hub of activity and grandeur, a kingdom to rival that of their northern neighbors, the kingdom of Than-In. During that time, they had been visited by an elf in dark robes who promised them riches and rewards. He promised to make the king a great man amongst all. For days, that elf had stayed with them, and on the third day was when the tragedy struck. The elf tricked the king, cursed him, and addled his mind, as he had long been an ally to the king of Than-In. He killed all the king's sons and daughters, and all his lords. He turned the king mad and fled the castle. For many years, the kingdom had not seen aid until about five years ago after finding out that Meradoth had been defeated, and the Kingdom of Than-In now ruled by one called Gregory, who sent supplies to the needy of the kingdom. But now the aid had stopped as a drought was occurring in all the lands, and the people were starving. This was going to be a long winter when it came, and many would die. Herbert breathed deeply in thought as he reached the grand hall, whereas always the king was sitting on his throne. His hair had long since grown out, only being trimmed by the mouse on rare occasions, and he was attempting to call council. Looking around the room, however, made it clear that no such council would be held. The seats of all the lords and ladies that once held them were in ruin, either by age, or destroyed. Bones from those who were on this once great council lay dusty and broken. Herbert had walked in right as the king was attempting something of a roll call.

“Lord Ashford, where is Lord Ashford?”

Gazing around the empty room the derelict king nodded.

“Late again, that's the fifth time this year, I’ll have to send a raven to his keep.”

Little did the crazed king notice, but the bones of the previous Lord Ashford had been only twenty feet away right at the spot he had died protecting the king that fateful day. This carried on for some time, Herbert adopted a perch high above in the rafters, and frowned. ‘Master, I wish there were something I could do for you, but I am just a humble pet mouse.’ He turned tail not long after and made his way out of the keep and into the city for which the keep was located. The City of Daron they had called it, but now a common short-handed name for it was the Barren City, as nothing had lived in the city since. Making his way across the drawbridge as it creaked and groaned under him. Looking down into the moat, he wondered if anything lived in the water. He shook his head and threw that from his mind. If anything did live down there it was able to eat him, and that was not something to think about.

Herbert made his way into the city, one could tell that it was once a glorious, and a very lively place. Now the streets echoed with the sounds of alley cats, and dogs, or the occasional rat. The only things that could survive such a place. The cracked windows and broken buildings made him shudder; they always did. He slowly made his way to the hill near town, there was a rock there he liked to perch on and watch the fields flow and look at the landscape. ‘This was a fine city, now it’s a dead husk.’

Making his way up the hill the sun was rising to its’ midday. The mouse would smile if you could tell a smile on a mouse. He enjoyed the view, and it made him appreciate the larger world. The golden wheat fields blew in the gentle breeze, soon it would be harvesting season, and winter would come as it had come every time before. For now, though he enjoyed the view. Behind him a glowing light had come not from the sun, but from somewhere below it. It was near blinding to the mouse; he ran behind the rock where he could afford some safety. The light glowed brighter until it suddenly stopped, and where the glow had come a person had stood, someone that had not been there before. He looked elderly, yet unlike many of those folk held himself high in regards. A long white beard, and a white cloak barred him from the world. In his hand was a large staff made of some wood, ash, or willow. The mouse breathed not knowing what to do he could make it away unseen; he was small enough. Yet just as the thought crossed his mind the voice of the figure called out.

“And where are you running off to my friend?”

Herbert froze, ‘he cannot have been talking to me,’ thought the mouse. He crept forward a few paces when the voice called again.

“I AM talking to you, my young mouse friend, why don’t you come back and come atop the rock so I may see you.”

The mouse, in fear, wondered if the distant voice could read a creature’s mind. Herbert, though hesitant, trusted the voice, and the figure who carried it. He slowly approached the rock, though willing to dash at the first sign of trouble. With minimal effort he reached the top of the rock and starred into the face of the man. The figure held a large nose, and long white hair. His face, though wrinkled, looked strangely young, and youthful for a figure that Herbert had to have put in his late eighties.

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“There you are my small friend, and I do say you've kept yourself well taken care of since your masters’ fall from sanity.”

Herbert looked at the stranger, he had no doubt that the stranger knew of his master, but how had he known that the king was his master. The stranger looked at the mouse and smiled.

“Oh, my young Herbert, you have seen better days. What if I told you I could give them back to you.”

Herberts’ heart almost skipped a beat, was this man who had come from the light going to give him back his master? Was he finally going to restore his masters’ twisted mind?’

The figure, as though reading the thoughts of Herbert frowned, “I am sorry, but I cannot restore what has happened to your master. There is one thing I can do though if you will allow it.”

Herbert's heart sank, the brief glimmer of hope had been dashed, but he would hear the stranger out.

“What has happened to your master was of his own design, he may have not asked for it, but allowing it to happen is just the same. I cannot restore his mind, but I can give you a new king, but this task is one you must endeavor on your own.”

Herbert was confused; you had to be of some grand house or have the blood of the king in you. No ordinary man would be king, no one would take it. He had never heard of such a thing happening. Herbert was confused also by having himself do it, he was a mouse, and mice cannot elect kings. The stranger knew all of this and answered kindly.

“I can help you; I can give you the gift of voice, and you will use this power to find the next king. Once this task is done, bring him to this hill, and I will crown him. Your kingdom will have a new king, and you a new master.”

Herbert stood what would be in shock at the request. The gift of voice why he deserved this gift, and who was this man to give it. He had heard rumors of men of magic powers able to give strange gifts, but this was something quite different. Also, what authority gave this being the ability to crown a new king at will, what will he do if he must give such power to others. The stranger, as though in response, sat down and came close to the mouse.

“Do you know who I am, my little friend?”

The mouse frowned and shook his head.

“Look deep within, and you will see.”

Herbert could not tell what he meant, but he focused on the stranger, and suddenly an overpower of some sort came over him, and the one thing that came to him was the creator, this stranger was THE creator. In response the being moved his magical stave in a circular motion. As though summoning clouds or waving the air he held a dim light at its tip and touched the throat of the mouse. Herbert smiled, he finally understood eons of memories and lives flowed through him at once as though he had lived a thousand lifetimes.

All the way back to the beginning, “Istan, your Istan my old friend.”

The mouse dipped his head as the being smiled once again.

“Hello Herbert, it is nice to see you again.”

Herbert was confused; he looked around not only at himself, but his new surroundings.

“Again, what do you mean?”

Istan grabbed the mouse and held him in the palm of his hand, “You are awakened, as you were when I met you back then you called me the Wanderer.”

The mouse who at first looked confused, suddenly gave the look of mesmerism.

“I remember,” Herbert looked around, though he was not the same mouse he was a moment ago.

“This place has changed much since we roamed it all those eons ago hasn’t it.”

Istan smiled, “Indeed my old friend, now to the task at hand, can you accomplish such a task?”

The mouse climbed onto the shoulder of the great being, “You would not have brought me back if I would not be able to Istan. I will find the next king.”

Istan got up and moved the mouse from his shoulder and back onto the rock.

“Good, it has been so wonderful to see you my friend, but I must be off. Please be quick, the days grow shorter and colder, and time is a whirlwind of possibility.”

With that the being vanished off into a cascade of light and was gone. Herbert was alone, and when he looked around the sun was already halfway to its afternoon cycle.

“I have spent too much time away; I must return with haste.”

Running on all fours, he made a dash for the keep. There was much to be done, before he could depart.