It is festival day in the town. The leaves are turning their many
hued colors and the harvest is done. The harvest has been a very fine one
this year. The town is celebrating with jugglers, street actors and minstrels.
He slips along down the stone paved path that is the main street in town. He passes shops with revelers in front. They pay him no mind, being lost in their festivities. Past children playing in the street, he moves on towards the center of town.
Upon reaching the center of town, he finds who he was looking for. A minstrel is preparing to tell a tale. The crowd is too thick for him to get close. He slips around and under a wagon where two boys and a girl lay. They are watching the minstrel tune his lap harp and do not see the furry one slip up and stretch out near them.
He lowers his muzzle to the stone flaggings and awaits the story teller's tale. Ears cocked forward so he doesn't miss a word that is about to be spoken.
The minstrel finishes tuning his harp and starts to pick a merry tune. While in a sing song voice the bard tells the crowd he will tell them a story called Dems fighting Words !!
Having traveled many day, the elf has been ordered to find a beautiful
glade for his kind to inhabit. Traveling many days journey from Eldor to
here. He stares down into the valley from the pass through which he just
came. The forest seems rich enough for his kind, yet he must be sure. His
walking staff is balanced on his slender shoulder out of the way for now.
Taking one last look at the mountain pass behind, he sets off down the
mountainside. Flitting from tree to tree, he is soon lost to sight in the
The emerald skinned troll has wandered north from his home is
search of prey to squelch the gnawing sensation in his belly. Traveling
north out of the swamp that is his home and into these woods. He is searching
for meat to sustain him. He longs for a gnome, knowing they are the most
tender meat he could get. Yet would settle for a hart or even a wild boar.
Passing down the game trail, the woods grow quiet around him. The creatures
that call this place their home can sense when a hunter has entered their
domain. He slips along with club in hand, listening to the woods around
The elf stares at the troll across the glade deep within a forest.
The elf knows that trolls are not to be taken lightly, yet he must subdue
the troll and finish his mission. The troll gazes at him while licking
its lips and thinking of spitted elf for dinner.
They cover the distance between them, each intent on winning the battle. The troll swings a low blow meant for the elf's side. Having no choice, the elf swings to block the blow. A loud
appears where the staff and club meet. Parrying the blow, the slender elf retaliates with an overhand blow. The troll whips up his club to parry. A noisy
materializes from where the two wooden weapons have met. The elf's staff has snapped in two from the force of the blow. Dropping the useless stump, the elf flits back from the troll's swings. Dodging under a swipe
that was meant for his head. The troll pursues his prey as the elf back peddles out of the way. Green hands raise the club and drive in for another blow. The elf deftly launches himself backwards to avoid yet another swing.
Backed up to a tree, the troll swings for the elf's head. Dropping to a crouch, the elf feels the hair on his head ruffle at the passing of the blow. The club strikes the tree with tremendous force.
Instinctively, the elf launches himself for the bright crimson pick within reach. Grasping the red pick from the air before the troll regains his balance from the missed blow. The sound of the club striking the tree falls away. Spinning, the elf delivers a two handed blow as the troll spins to face him. The pick in the hands of the lithe one finds its' home in the trolls skull.
The troll falls backwards upon the soft loam, dead upon reaching the ground. The elf hitches up his belt and strolls off back into the woods, crunching large
As, Cs, Ds, Hs, Is, Ks, Ms, Ns, Os, Ps, Ss, Ts, Us and Ws
under his feet. Whistling a happy little tune to himself as he disappears into the forest once again.
The storyteller stands up from his seat on the edge of the fountain
and speaks to the crowd gathered before him.
The furry canine lifts himself up and slips out from under the wagon from which he has been laying. Turning, he passes through the crowd and on down the street towards the edge of town. Once again he has fulfilled his objective, to hear and remember all the knowledge he can. Reaching the forest outside the small farming community, he pauses. Speaking to himself "Aye indeed. Mayhaps those two legged ones shalt someday realize the moral to that story". A chuckle can be heard coming from his furry throat as he continues speaking. "Sticks and stones will break my bones AND words can assuredly hurt!". Into the forest he passes, a howl of laughter can be heard fading into the emerald sea as he disappears from sight.
(Author's note - You need a good imagination to grasp this story. Think of it like a comic book where the words appear for you to read. The elf reached up and grabbed the T from Thunk to use as a weapon.)