Episode 2: Already So Far From Home

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The bodies of the hanged men were buried in the hill quickly, and they travelled on, wanting to put as much distance as they could from the awful battle as possible.

MacGregor had seen a town not far from here when he had captured Rikkard's horse, and they made for it, riding fast. Overhead, the storm continued to build, and droplets of rain foretold of a downpour.

Soon, the town could be seen, small and glowing in the distance. A dark tower rose high on a hill in the centre of the town, its upper levels buried in the swirling clouds. They passed a sign on the edge of the town which welcomed them to the village of Tumulus Arbor.

The village was small but showed signs of once having been much larger. Broken walls surrounded it, and straight, worn cobblestone streets lined it. Most of the old stone houses were dark at this time of night, but sound and light both streamed out of a small pub at one end of the main street. A leaf-shaped wooden sign hung outside, and laughter poured out in regular intervals.

MacGregor tied up their horses as the rest went inside. A fire burned warm at one end of the crowded room, and men and women sat eating and drinking around a round table.

Standing on the table, the centre of everyone's attention, danced a very short man -- or rather, a gnome -- his voice rising and falling in the telling of a great story.

Uther stepped up to the bar and looked up wearily. It had been a long day, and he was rather parched, so he orderd the small barrel of ale to drink. The barman eyed him skeptically, but dragged over the arm-length tall barrel.

The gnome stopped in mid-story when he noticed the strangers enter the room, and skipped off of the table gracefully. "And who do we have here?" he asked cordially. "Some travellers seeking shelter from the storms? Come in!" He beckoned them to sit down, and called for Shelley to "fetch their guests some food!"

The gnome disappeared in the back of the inn, but returned with a woman bearing mugs of ale. After the drink was set down, the gnome, having filled up what Uther considered to be a tiny cup of ale, began to ask them questions.

"Well, what brings you through our humble town of Tumulus Arbor, then?" he asked.

"We came seeking shelter," answered Rikkard.

"Shelter! Why, you've come a great distance for shelter, haven't you?" He winked at Abigail. "But where is it you've come from, then, to find our little village?"

"From the House of Green," Abigail answered.

The gnome scratched his head and pondered that answer. "The House of Green? Why, that rings some bells, it does! If you're from the House of Green, then..."

"Excuse me," asked Isobel shyly. "But we are seeking a place to stay. Are you the owner of this inn?"

The gnome whirled around at the sound of her voice, and his eyes widened as if he had just noticed her. "Hallo there, gorgeous! So, who might you be, beautiful lady?" he said, looking at Isobel. His slight bow was combined with a mischevious smile which made Abigail giggle slightly.

Isobel laughed. "I am Sister Isobel, a Gaurdian from Wyndhamere," she answered, smiling.

"A sister? But not my sister, thankfully, so we have no problems, then do we?" he winked at her, and she blushed slightly.

"But to answer your question, I can definitely say that I am not likely to be the owner of this inn. Am I gents?" he asked the men sitting at his former table. They smiled and raises their drinks to him, shaking their heads and smiling.

"Then, gentle gnome, who are you?" asked Abigail.

He twirled around to look at her. "What? You don't remember me?" he mocked shock and horror, and draped his head with his arm. He stumbled around, as if ready to faint. "Oh, the horror of it all, to not be remembered! Oh, my life is faint and I am passing into the fading past..."

With a thud he fell over onto his back on the table. In between his moans of agony he looked out to see if his audience was still watching, and winked at Isobel as he did so.

"I'm sorry! I wish that I could remember you, sir!" she said sincerely.

"Sir!?" The gnome looked up from the table. "Don't you `Sir' me, young lady!" He crawled forward, looking up at her crossly. "You really don't remember me, 'Phina?" he asked sadly.

'Phina? she thought. I haven't heard that name since...

"But what is your name, little fool!" Rikkard asked, annoyed with the little one's antics.

The gnome rolled to his feet in front of Rikkard and extended his hand. "The name is Sam, pleased to meetcha! Who are you?"

"Rikkard Von Vellumson. I am from the Northern lands."

"Good for you!" exclaimed Sam, raising his drink. "Let's drink to that!"

"Are there rooms here where we can stay?" asked Isobel.

"Damned if I know," Sam answered. "But you won't be staying here, anyway!"

"Why not?" Rikkard asked.

"Because I have a place for you to stay!" he said. "You'll come and be my guests, because anyone from the House of Green is a friend to me!" He hopped down off the table and strode to the door. "Well," he insisted, "are you coming?"

They filed out of the inn just as MacGregor was coming in from brushing down the horses. "We're leaving, MacGregor," said Abigail.

"To where?" he asked.

Abigail called to the gnome. "Which way, Sam?" she asked him.

Sam climbed up the side of the carriage horse and stood on its neck, like a captain riding the prow of his ship. "That way!" He pointed up the street. "Tally-ho! Vamoose! Move! Hee-yaa!" he called to the horse, who merely twisted it head to see this odd little flea. "I think it's broken," Sam said sadly. "It doesn't want to go!"

Uther slapped the reins and the horse began to walk. Sam tumbled backward nearly off the horse's back, but clung on with one hand, his other still grabbing his tiny mug.

"Take this next right," he directly them. The side street rose gradually and curved to the left, and they could see that it began to climb the hill toward the tower.

"Who are you again? Exactly?" Abigail asked Sam as they climbed farther up the hill. Samhad by now crawled up to sit astride the carraige-horse's head, his hands gripping the horse's main for support. He let out a little sheepish belch and turned to her, drawing his breath.

"Ahem. My formal name is Baron Samkin Theodocius Brandybush Pendakkar-Thrace," he answered, smiling, "but you must please just call me Sam."

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