The forests and woodlands of middle earth especially the ones around the cities were quite normal. Silent, sentient and unnaturally eerie, exactly how forests are supposed to be.

Even so, these forests were places of respite for the commoners.

And all those who think that places as uncomfortable and dangerous as these could hardly have the relaxing atmosphere to warrant the use of the term ‘respite’, would be wrong. Because the sort of commoners that the forests attracted were not the kind that you would like to bump on a chilly winter night all alone at the back of a deserted alley. From outlaws to thieves and bandits to cutthroats, the woods were home to every possible kind of degenerate abhorrent bottom of the gutter scum that the society had the indecency to whip out.

This was the extent of their infamy; where proper adjectives had to be looked up in a dictionary just to do them justice.

With bandit infested regions randomly intermingled with monster territories and islands of strange eldritch sorceries thrown in the mix as well, it did not come as much of a surprise that a large part of these forests had remained unexplored for centuries. And although the secrets they held were numerous, the number of people willing to unravel them were not.

The Va Eldein was one such forest. It was neither the most magical nor the most mysterious but still had a way of getting on the nerves of those unfamiliar to it, not quite unlike the way Buren did. The same magic operated here as well, albeit in a diluted form. The light was sparse beneath the dense foliage, having been sieved through a condensed mesh of branches and leaves. The trees were greener and their roots ran deep. While the dense canopy stretched into the distance. And even though the air was a bit breezy all year round, the leaves did not rustle in the gentle wind like they did everywhere else, they whispered.

The small animals frolicked in the lush overgrowth while the larger ones lazed beside small waterholes, bathing in the meager sunlight all day long. Even the monsters’ intelligence was on the higher side and as such were quite peaceful, who killed only when hungry while making a point to always stay away from Buren. However, despite all this, the entire place had a feeling of morbidness around it. As if every tree, the rocks beside them and even the parasitic lichen clinging to those rocks, were holding their breath. Waiting in anticipation for something.

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For what, no one knew. But they knew one thing. They would not want to be there to see it happen.

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Just beyond the edge of the town and near the close knitted group of young trees that marked the beginning of the forest, one could see a clearing. The clearing wasn’t special. Well, to say that it was ordinary wouldn't be quite right either because its extraordinariness lay in the fact that it is the place where our story begins.

Hmmm……….. So I guess it could be said that the clearing was as ordinary as it could be, without being entirely irrelevant to the story. And it’d be better to say from the get-go that every ordinary thing that I talk about from now on also follows this general rule.

Now on any other day of the week, at any other time of the day, the clearing would have gone unnoticed and we would probably have skipped to the better parts of the story like the valiant battle of Val T’or or the courtship of the Ice Princess Mira but unfortunately it’s my story and this is the way I want it to be.

Life is just like that...full of bitter disappointments. Deal with it.

At around two hours before dusk, a boy could be seen trudging across the farmlands and a couple of low lying hills. The boy was a nobody. The kind of nobody who can inexplicably remain to be unremarkable no matter where he is standing. The feeling he gave off could only be of a veteran hardcore extra. Although he looked to be around 12 years of age, it was hard to be sure because of his impoverished and malnourished appearance. With jet black hair, plain face and a somewhat small stature, his only distinctive features were his eyes that almost seemed to glow with intelligence and indifference.

As he slowly made his way to the clearing, dragging one weary foot after the other, he tried to make sense of all the recent monster attacks near the outskirts of the forest. The first incident involved just a small skirmish of some of those adventures with a group of four-tusked boars but then such episodes became an almost weekly occurrence. This was strange because monsters near Buren had never been so openly hostile before. It had quickly become the hottest topic of discussion which wasn’t surprising given how rarely anything remotely as interesting happened in the town. Just recently the news of the birth of triplets by farmer john’s mare had made every household abuzz with insensible, often drawn-out discussions, which despite claims otherwise were fueled purely by jealousy.

In light of these attacks, Granny had already told him to postpone these weekly excursions, but he had not listened because this had long become a natural part of his life. His life was hard and as far back as he could remember it had always been like that. Those small hours before sunset was his only moment of respite and nothing short of a dragon could stop him, let alone some insignificant monsters.

Suddenly, his face broke out into a rare smile, interrupting his train of thought as he stepped into his clearing.