OLD LEATHER BOOTS
(from the "Legends of Palanthas" cycle)
[A story told by Killian, one of the few elven adventurers, in some crowded Inn in Palanthas.]
Killian stretched his legs towards the crackling fire and let out a sigh of relief. It was good here. The night outside was rainy and cold and no good elf would be traveling the streets in this weather without much need.
The ale was strong and aromatic, and by some strange coincidence it was pretty quiet. Enough quiet to sit diligently in the chairs, gulping the ale and listening to the fire crackling joyfully. To bask in the waves of heat, to hear the wind rustling outside...
And it was a pretty good time for a story.
Probably that's why, when Killian began murmuring in a low, musical voice, nobody was surprised.
With a graceful wave of his hand that was always so characteristic of him, Killian pointed at his skinny legs and feet, where he worn a pair of old leather boots. They looked as though the owner had been treating them quite well.
"This pair of boots is ancient and cracked with age, I know. An old cobbler made them for me ten years ago. I had to pay him an awesome amount of steel and I really thought I was robbed. He said:
'Milord, grass will be growing from my body, and you still will be wearing these boots and will thank me a great deal.'
A year passed by, and one of the boots had deteriorated – the bootheel was broken. I and my group were travelling in the unexplored isles of the Blood Sea where mysterious creatures are rumored to dwell, and I had to return back to the camp alone. I was limping down the sandy footpath and cussing mentally all the way to the campfire. I even swore I would throw the boots into the open fire.
My groupmates never returned home since then. They were attacked by a group of monsters who apparently considered their flesh the most delicious thing in the world. The whole group but me served as the dinner; I found only a few bones later.
I did not throw the boots into the open fire. Instead, I replaced the heel and put silver taps onto both of them.
A few years later, me and an untrustworthy human companion were searching the treasures in the plains where the que-shu live. And yes, we did find some rare artifacts and treasures. The companion most likely wasn't satisfied with having to split and on the following night he caught a small scorpion whose bite makes a horse dead in a minute, and put the insect into my left boot. But the left boot was torn apart so much the scorpion freed from it and I stayed alive.
Half a year afterwards, the ship I was sailing on, was struck by a rock, because of a great storm in the Sirrion Sea. The ship foundered a while later. It was nearly five miles to the island of Ergoth left still. The boots were heavy, soaked with salty water, dragging me to the bottom, but I didn't remove them. I knew it would be as if I surrendered to the raging sea, and I wouldn't escape then. The boots helped me survive. None escaped but me; everyone else drowned.
Soon I'll leave Palanthas, friends. The Ice Wall had always attracted my attention and I want to examine it carefully. It is rumored to be a place where the good dies young and the evil lives forever... Probably, I'll stare Takhisis in the eyes not once, and not twice. But I'm not worried – not at all. The pair of old leather boots which I always wear will help me to cheat the death by most anything.
I also never let my horse chew on the grass near graves and graveyards."
It was silence and only the fire crackled in the hearth. Finally, someone's voice broke in:
"Why?"
Killian replied calmly with a graceful wave of his hand:
"Who knows, maybe it grows from the old cobbler's body..."