Fate of Thorik

Music and cheering of crowds could be heard by Thorik and Ambrosius as they slowly approached the normally open grass field along the river, downstream from the village. The Farbank Commons had been transformed into a carnival of celebration and contests. It had been a great year for the villagers with bumper crops and an abundance of fish and hunted meats.

  Small groups had formed near the tents as the adult men boasted to each other of their successes throughout the seasons and compared their fortune to past years when the Mountain King had blessed them with even greater bounties. Each year the older stories continued to grow and become more extravagant. Just ten years prior, the melons were told to be twice that of today, but now the stories tell of melons three times that size. The same was true for the tomatoes, deer, and fish.

  Wess was the youngest of the group of men as he stretched out his arms while describing the deer that he recently hunted. His large muscular arms rose on each side of him and he spread his fingers apart toward the sky as he conjured up visions of the size of the deer’s antlers. The men around him cheered and congratulated him before the next man stepped in to tell his story of triumph.

  At the tents near the river, groups of women had gathered to set up tables and fill them with pies, gourds, melons, and many fragrant dishes. The melons couldn’t compare to how the men had described them, but they were of good size none the less.

  As they worked together, the women chatted and gossiped about who would win this year’s contests and whose husband was going to get hurt in the games. They also compared how well behaved and mature their children were to how childish their husbands acted.

  Using the wooden staff Thorik had made for him, Ambrosius limped his way past the tents. Gatherings of Nums would quiet down and stare at the intense burns along the right side of his face and neck. Although seen as an oddity to the villagers and a topic of conversation, everyone was respectfully pleasant.

  Thorik helped Ambrosius past the tents and sat him on a bench facing the temporary stage and the open grass field where the children played.

  Ambrosius overheard parts of the women’s conversations but he couldn’t keep up with them. They all talked at once about unrelated topics and yet they somehow kept up with each other. He resigned his attempts to eavesdrop and relaxed in the cool air and warm sun as Thorik excused himself.

  Leaning forward, he rested his staff against his shoulder and watched the children play in the field as they jumped and tumbled in the grass. He smiled for the first time in many a week as he envied the freedom and easy life this village offered.

  A short distance away, a group of young and older children stood in a circle chanting a rhyme while tossing pine cones back and forth. One girl stood in the center and watched a dozen cones flying randomly over her head. She was older than most she played with and had a spark in her eye of cleverness and curiosity which stood out from the rest. Her long dark hair was interlaced with various bright shades of spring flowers and swung from side to side while bobbing her head back and forth to the other children’s voices.

  When all the jewels are in his crown,

  The mighty King will drop it down.

  All but one of the gems will break

  As it plummets into a nearby lake

  At this point in the poem, the young girl glanced over at Ambrosius and grinned before returning to her game. She began to jump for the pine cones in the rhythm of the musical poem, missing each and every time. The other children had caught on and began to toss their cones on the off beats to prevent her from being successful.

  This treasure will again appear

  Striking disbelievers with great fear.

  But if the one is cleansed, you see

  Rebirth to the kingdom is foreseen