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"Um. Excuse me."

All eyes turned up the road to the small group standing there and most eyes focused on he who spoke. The two sets of eyes that did not belonged to Orlon and Tarl, and their reactions to the group of farmers were quite different. Tarl sighed, positive whatever these farmers were up to would result in nothing more than an unneeded delay to this trip, his big chance to break free of this place, beginning. Orlon was simply surprised that his neighboring farmers would interrupt the proceedings.

Further, when his attention did turn to he who spoke Orlon could not believe his eyes. It was Sleen Manibeen! The string bean Midget stood before the farmers, eyes on Ty the Parson, a long fingered hand nervously stroking his thinning gray-brown hair. This made no sense at all to Orlon. What in the whole wide world would make Sleen, who had gone through his own visitor-calling-for-a-quest event, speak up, especially at this point?

A nudge from the farmers sent Sleen stumbling forward a step. "Are—are you," he cleared his throat, tugging at his collar, "going on a trip?"

Tarl looked to the heavens, jaw slack, at a question even his dim intellect deemed stupid.

Orlon caught his jaw before it dropped. It was the other farmers?

Ty the Parson did something that drew all eyes to him. "We journey," he stated flatly.

"Can we…um…come along?"

Tarl’s eyes bugged out as they came down to look at Sleen… Then he took in the group of farmers as a whole, a sly smile creasing his face. A hand gently patted the dice in his pocket. With them along he just might be able to recoup some recent losses.

Orlon’s jaw wagged, but no words came. The question from Sleen—these farmers made no sense to him. In all the talks they had had, especially after Sleen’s odd visitor, the farmers never sounded like they wanted to travel anywhere, ever. Why now?

After a quick head count, five farmers, Ty the Parson added it to the nine members of the Party who had accompanied him here, and a smile played at his lips.

"Wolf packs gather to hunt food! Bees swarm in dense clouds to protect the hive! The more to join, I, Ty, the Parson, and the Party to protect Orlon, the Pure, purest of the pure, on his twofold quest, first to obtain the Holy Pike and second, to use it to save us all from the ever growing evil that threatens to envelop the world, the better."

The farmers looked from him to Orlon and back again, and back again.

"Yes, I think," Orlon answered their questioning eyes.

"The wind blows ever onward! Moss gathers about the embedded stone! Time continues unabated, never to be recaptured. Our journey grows stagnant when it should be rolling onward," Ty the Parson’s limbs flailed dramatically. "Let us begin." In a wild spin, he turned down the road, staff pointing—and he started down the road at a fair clip.

To a man, and woman, the Party hitched their sword belts and followed him.

"Here we go," Tarl said, rubbing his hands together, as he and his best friend started after them. Orlon’s response to the quest’s beginning was relatively silent. He gulped.

Jujay fell in right behind them, for the first couple of steps, struggling as he was under the weight of his burden.

There was a moment’s hesitation with the farmers, murmurs of uncertainty between them as to whether they should go, if they were, in fact, invited to go. Sleen quieted them with a harsh word, followed by a murmured statement that made them frown, look at each other, then give him a shrug and a nod. Sleen looked quite pleased with himself, and they all turned to wave farewell to their wives before taking off after the verbose man in robes, the Party and their two young neighbor farmers.

Watching their husbands walk away, the group of wives moved into the road. Concern and anger played across their faces. They could not believe their husbands would even consider such a foolhardy thing as taking a trip at this time of the planting season.

"I just hope they’re back before dark," one said.

III. Dwarf Road

Within a short distance the early morning travelers adjusted their grouping a bit. Ty the Parson remained in the lead, the Party, to a man, close behind him, followed by Orlon and Tarl, and the woman, who had wordlessly dropped back to join the two, behind which came Jujay, leading the farmers.

The servant was grateful for the sunny day, a soft breeze blowing through now and again to take the edge off the growing heat. It was the warmth of the day that kept his aged limbs limber. But there was nothing to alleviate the pain that coursed through his already pain-racked body. Pain caused by the stack of supplies he carried, pain that grew excruciating every time he lifted his walking staff to advance it.

His worry over what he was in for if this so-called trip was a quest had proven to be far worse than he imagined—all thanks to Tarl Bimbo’s bravado. He shot the plump Midget a derisive glare and sighed. He had to accept his fate nonetheless. What else could a servant do? When he looked at Orlon, concern filled his tired gray eyes. Considering how his own fate turned out, he wondered how much worse his master’s might be, if his master was even aware of it.

Orlon walked next to the woman, oblivious to her presence. Nor was he aware of Tarl who walked on the other side of her, letting his eyes take in her beauty top to bottom again and again and again… Now that they were actually on this quest his mind was preoccupied by what it meant for him. He simply could not believe how his life had been turned upside-down.

Despite his earlier doubts, he had no choice but to admit it was true. It was all true. His Grandfather’s story about seeing soldiers in his own youth, the book he was reading, all true. And therefore, what Ty the Parson said last night as well as this morning must be true. A simple farmer—he—had become the hoped for savior of the world! The question was: Was he up to such a perilous task? A trickle of sweat ran down his cheek, and that put an end to his desire to find the answer to that question.

What he needed was some kind of diversion to take his mind off…everything.

That was when he not only took in the beautiful day, but the quickly passing surroundings. He had not been down this way since he was a child running around and playing games with Tarl and other children. A smile touched his lips. What better diversion was there than reminiscing?

He saw the Fromm farm and remembered childhood fears of old Chaad Fromm who disliked children in general. How the evil eyed little man used to bellow at them to "stay off’n my prop’ty." And he remembered the game of hide-and-go-seek when Tarl convinced him to hide in the Fromm wheat bin, assuring him no one would ever find him there, before scurrying off to hide elsewhere. How he had been found…by Chaad Fromm and got into real trouble for it.

His eyes darted across the road, focused on the Boncrib farm, and he smiled. The Boncribs were such a sweet young couple whose love for children radiated with their every word and action toward them. He thought of Marji Boncrib’s beautiful smile, her motherly tone, that delightful flowery scent that floated about her… How Tarl had played that nasty trick of leaving a burning bag of manure on their porch and knocking on the door, leaving him to somehow take the blame for it.

With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes, tried to shake off the unwanted feeling bubbling up within him. To swap his worries for outright anger was not a good thing to do.