1.26

Sharampf awoke before dawn and headed outside, she wondered if she was the first one awake. She wasn’t surprised to see Fenrick on his morning jog.

“Why don’t old people sleep?” Sharampf shook her head.

Thoughts of the troll rolled through her mind, and she wondered about the gift she had been given.

Sharampf took a stroll from the pathways into the swamp and approached a tree. She found a small, red frog with blue toes. Unsure of what to do, Sharampf stared intently at the small creature.

“Can I help you?” Sharampf jumped with a fright, then realised it was the frog. A high-pitched, nasal sound.

“Hi, yes. Wow, I’ve never spoken to an animal before, or used magic. My name is Sharampf, what’s yours?” Sharampf put her hands on her knees to lean in closer to the frog. Her face beamed with excitement.

“I’ve talked to lots of people before. My name is Gunder.” Sharampf jumped when the frog’s tongue snapped out and caught a fly. “Mmm, tasty.”

“What do you do all day?” Sharampf asked.

“Mainly eat and swim. And sometimes talk to people. Flies are my favourite meal. Do you like flies?”

“I can’t say I’ve ever eaten a fly.” Sharampf doubted if the novelty of talking to animals would ever wear off. She figured magic users must do it all the time.

“You’ve never eaten a fly?” The frog’s voice warbled slightly and Sharampf noticed she could hear a faint croak.

“Must be starting to wear off.” Sharampf continued to stare, but she only heard a croak.

Sharampf returned to the village to find more dwarves had started their day. She watched as Fenrick started another lap of the town. She walked into Fenrick’s path and waited for him to approach her.

“Morning,” said Fenrick. He slowed his jog on approach and came to a stop. He had pushed himself hard this morning and could feel the burn of his lungs feel tight in his chest.

“Guess what, I used magic.” Sharampf blurted.

“The troll’s gift?” Fenrick asked.

“Yeah. Yep. I talked to a frog just before. It was awesome.” Her excitement was obvious.

“You’ve never used magic before?”

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“No, never. Only magitech stuff. Which isn’t exactly using magic. Was always interested but had a real knack and excitement for magitech.” Sharampf’s voice calmed a little now.

“Maybe it’s something you can look into. There are many ways to be able to learn and perform magic.” Fenrick pushed an elbow down behind his head, stretching his shoulders. The steady pace of talking had brought relief to his lungs.

“Yeah, but what kind of magic? Pursuit in what way?” Sharampf’s voice carried an excited tone again.

“Well, I guess that’s something for you to decide on your own. Ask a few people, heck, Bodwyn can use magic.” Fenrick swapped his arms around and stretched his neck as well.

“Making a pact doesn’t really interest me personally.”

“Take your time” Fenrick took in a few more breaths through his nose and out his mouth. The two made their way back to the tavern.

“I’ve been thinking.” Bodwyn’s voice cut to them from across the room. He sat at a table and was eating a plate of pickled reeds, and salt-cured fish. He looked tired, as though he had struggled to sleep.

“Yeah?” asked Sharampf. The other two joined him at the table and Fenrick saw that Tad was sitting at Bodwyn’s feet.

“I also think we should go back to Cobbleson. I feel like the whole Hank thing isn’t quite finished.”

“We’ll get some supplies and make our way,” said Fenrick.

“Does this town have much in the way of shops?” asked Sharampf.

“I did notice one shop on my jog,” said Fenrick.

The group said their farewells to the tavern owner and paid the rest that they owed. It turned out to be cheaper than anything they would’ve paid at the Cracked Cauldron.

They headed over to the shop that Fenrick had mentioned earlier. Like most of the buildings in Misty Swamps, it was a small mud hut with an entrance with no door.

Even without a door, the air managed to be stale and musty. A single timber table at the far end of the shop covered in knick-knacks was the only furnishings the shop had.

On the table they could see a coil of rope, five pitons with a small hammer. What appeared to be nothing more than a small wooden pole, roughly a foot in length, and a few empty waterskins.

“Not really anything here that we need,” said Bodwyn. He walked away from the table.

“Hang on a sec, I don’t think any of us actually have rope. And the pitons could always come in handy.” Bodwyn wasn’t surprised that Fenrick had been the one to speak.

“What would be the point of the stick?” Sharampf asked.

“I can answer that, if you’re interested.” The high-pitched voice scared the group, and they watched as a halfling rose up from behind the table and sat on the surface. The halfling looked a little over three feet in height. He wore a baggy black shirt and orange pants, his tail flicked around behind him.

“Are you the owner?” Sharampf asked.

“Yep.” The halfling wore a massive smile and puffed his chest out with pride.

“Don’t have much here do ya?” said Bodwyn.

“That’s because I recently got cleared out by a bunch of adventurers just a few days ago.” The halfling stared back at Bodwyn, both refused to back down.

“That’s okay, I’m interested in the rope and pitons and hammer,” said Fenrick. He opened his coin pouch, ready to pay.

“Four silver pieces for the lot. And you wanted to know what the stick was?” The halfling turned his neck to face Sharampf.

“Yes please,” she nodded.

“It’s a stick that transforms into a wooden ladder that can extend up to three storeys high.”

“Wow, that sounds really handy, how much?” Sharampf asked.

“Fifteen gold. Made it myself I did.” The halfling managed to puff his chest even more.

“Done.” Sharampf handed over the gold. “I think that’s it. Thank you, have a good day.”

“Thank you, you too.” The halfling bowed low and tilted his head up to watch the group leave.

“Guess we’re on our way then?” said Sharampf.

“Let’s go,” said Bodwyn.