Disclaimer: I do not own the Fable universe or Lionhead studios.

Part 8 ≈ The Pain of the Warrior †

Roland looked left and right, trying to get his eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness. He suddenly felt like the rocks were closing in around him and he began to feel faint-headed and found it almost difficult to breathe. But Roland took deep, slow breaths, calming himself down. He was just panicking a little. He knew what was coming ahead, but he felt…unprepared for it. Partially because he was forced into it. He was still a little sore about that.

"Are you sure your son is in here?" Roland asked his new companion, Herman.

"I'm sure," Herman said timidly, hunched and jumping at the slightest sound. "I took my eyes off him for a second and then off he went! Oh, I'm such a horrible father!"

"Don't worry," Roland placed his hand assuredly on his shoulder. "We'll find him and then we'll get out of this horrid place." Herman smiled sheepishly.

"You know the old tales about hobbes?" Herman asked. "The ones that say that they were really children? And that they were turned into Hobbes?" Roland kept his smile, though he had heard the tales.

"I'm sure they're just stories, mate," Roland reassured him. Though in all honesty, he didn't believe it himself. He was walking around with a man who was supposed pure myth who was said to have done deeds that no man could have done. It made him wonder how much of the old songs were true.

That's when he heard the coughing.

"Ack! Hack! Testing! Testing! Is this bloody thing working?" came a voice that sounded suspiciously like…

"Alexander?" Roland exclaimed. "Is that you? Where are you?"

"Look down at your hand, bard," the voice commanded. Roland did. And saw the oddest sight he had seen yet.

A mouth had grown on the old wooden stick.

"Hello!" the mouth exclaimed.

Roland screamed and dropped the stick on the ground.

"Ow! Watch it! Be a little more careful, bard! That hurt!" the wooden mouth continued to move along with the words.

"Alexander?!" Roland nearly screamed.

"What in blazes is that thing!?" Herman shouted.

"Keep your voices down, please," Alexander spoke again. "We do not want any unwelcome attention."

"Your stick is cursed!" Roland exclaimed.

"That is what many women have said," Alexander commented.

"How is this possible?" Roland asked roughly.

"Calm down, please," Alexander said. "The stick is just a conduit for me to talk to you. It will let me know where you are and such. And I will assist you when I need to. Now please, shall we continue? And also, please pick me up off of the ground. It is quite damp."

Roland paused and gulped. The wooden mouth was just…uncomfortable to look at. It protruded from the stick with its toothy grin. Was that a tongue waggling around behind the wooden teeth? Sighing, Roland reached down and picked up the stick.

"Good!" the mouth said excitedly. "Now, let us get through this cave shall we?"

"I…I just shouldn't ask any questions, should I?" Herman said nervously.

"Trust me, you'd just be more confused than I am," Roland reassured him.

Water droplets fell from the ceiling in rhythmic patterns, like heartbeats. Roland gulped and forced himself to walk forward into the dark abyss that lay before him. Herman followed, just as nervously. Alexander was humming a tune to himself gaily. Trying to ignore the wooden abomination, Roland squinted in the darkness, trying to find a path.

"So, Herman," Roland said cheerfully. "Where do you hail from?"

"Oh!" Herman jumped at the sound of Roland's voice. "Um, I come from Bowerstone, originally. But, after my wife died, bless her soul, I moved out to Oakfield with my son Joey. I just…needed to get away from it all, you know? The city was just so…crowded. Too many people."

"Yes, Bowerstone always was crowded," Roland agreed. "But that's what I liked about it. I was never bored. There was always something to do."

"I guess that's true, but I just needed to get away," Herman said. "Moved to Oakfield and became a farmer. The people were nice and all. Plus, it was especially close to the Temple of Light. Joey loves it there. The Monks and the Abbot are especially nice. Even that woman who goes by the name of Hammer."

"Hammer?" Roland asked.

"Sister Hannah," Herman explained. "A giantess of a woman, if I do say so myself. Though, not to her face. Has a temper, that one. Like my darling wife…"

"I'm sorry," Roland said sympathetically.

"It's okay," Herman shuddered. "I shouldn't have brought it up. Anyways, it's very peaceful in Oakfield. I swear it is the most golden place you will ever see. The weather is always just right and sea breeze is magnificent!"

"It sounds lovely," Roland said, smiling at the thought. "Truth be told, I've never seen golden fields before."

"Well, you're in for a treat!" Herman exclaimed. "When we get there, you will never want to leave!"

"We'll get there with your son Joey," Roland reassured him. "Don't wo-"

"Heads up," Alexander warned.

Too late. Roland's foot stepped in something wet, causing it to slip forward quickly. Roland grunted as he fell flat on his back with a thud, knocking the wind out of his lungs. His back instantly became wet as whatever liquid covered the ground entered his tunic.

"Roland! Are you okay?" Herman shouted into the darkness, his voice echoing.

"Please, sir, keep your voice down," Alexander shushed. "Bard? Are you all right?"

"I just got the wind knocked out of me," Roland pushed himself up and rubbed the back of his head. "Must have stepped in some mud."

"Sure, we will go with that," Alexander said after a moment.

"By the way, how can you see in the dark?" Roland asked.

"I am the Hero of Oakvale," Alexander answered simply.

"Right, I forgot," Roland sighed. "Well, can you do something about the lights? I'm afraid that I'm going to run into some Hobbes while I'm blind as a bat."

"Probably should have done that before," Alexander muttered. "Please hold on for a moment." In the dark, Roland could not have seen, but a pair of eyeballs had grown from the top of the stick. The eyelids rolled open and light blazed out of them.

Roland blinked as the light came on suddenly, revealing the room covered in blood and gore. He screamed as he tried to quickly get up, out of the puddle of red he was in. Too quickly. He slipped again and fell head first in the puddle again, his mouth filling up with the stuff. His foot caught some solid ground and he pushed himself away towards the wall. He huddled in the corner, shivering as the liquid dripped down from his hair and ears. Blood. It was someone's blood.

He heard Herman vomit and heave as his stomach contents fell onto the ground.

"Oh! No!" Herman yelled between retches. "I'm…I'm sorry. I've just…never seen something…this horrible."

"Sorry about that," Alexander said sympathetically. "I forgot how much of a shock blood is to some people. I am sorry."

"Then why did you show it to me?" Roland muttered angrily.

"The life of an adventurer is not always fun and games, bard," Alexander said. "Not like your tales."

"Is that why you sent me in here?" Roland accused.

"That is one of the reasons," Alexander admitted. "If you wish to travel with me, you must be used to the sight of death, for you will always be around it."

"I…understand," Roland said after a breath. "It's just…that was…somebody."

"Actually, it may have been more than one person, but I see your point," Alexander corrected. "Regardless, the only way to go is forward."

"How?" Roland pleaded for an answer. The blood was in the way. Everywhere.

"One step at a time," Alexander said simply. Always simply.

Roland took a deep breath and slowly stood up, using the rock wall as a guide. Slowly, he turned himself around (nearly retching at the blood again). Then he took a step forward. Step by step, he walked out of the room. After a few seconds, he walked back into the room, grabbed Herman by his arm and pulled him along.

"Sorry," Herman apologized. "You must think I'm pathetic."

"No," Roland said simply. "You're human. That is all." He didn't know it, but the mouth on the stick was smiling softly.

There was light at the end of the tunnel, apart from the one shining from the end of the stick. It was a warm, yellow light, almost like it was from a fire. Incessant chattering and squeaking could be heard from beyond the exit. Roland gulped and held the stick tightly, Herman coming up behind him.

"Relax, bard," Alexander said. "You are too tense."

"Forgive me if I don't trust a talking mouth on a stick," Roland muttered.

"Just relax," Alexander told him again.

When they entered the cave, the light from the stick dimmed and turned off. But they could still see the fire. And the creatures that surrounded it.

And Roland saw the Hobbes for the first time in his life.

There were five of them and they were absolutely grotesque creatures. Small with flat ears that protruded like horns. A fat little head atop a little body with no sign of a neck. Roland couldn't help but think that there was no way these creatures were ever human. They were all chattering to themselves in whatever language they spoke in, oblivious to the world around them. Some were chewing on…meat, cooking them over the fire. Roland didn't even dare think about where the meat came from.

"Are those-?" Herman began to ask. His foot, however, stepped on something soft. It shattered.

One of the Hobbes looked up and sniffed the air. It looked over its shoulder and stared at the two intruders. Roland held his breath as Herman gulped. For a moment that seemed as long as an eternity, the two humans held the gaze of the hobbe.

The hobbe jumped up and spun around, opening his mouth wide, revealing rows of razor sharp teeth that were decaying and yellow from years of wear. It screeched at the top of its lungs, alerting its comrades to the threat. Soon, all five Hobbes had stood up and were wadding towards them. In their hands were all sorts of weapons from axes to rifles.

"It would seem that these Hobbes know how to use those guns now," Alexander noted. Roland didn't notice how calm Alexander seemed. He was too busy panicking

"OmygoshomygoshwhatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdoIdo!" Roland stood shaking in his boots. Herman was no better. He had decided that running around in circles was the best course of action.

Alexander sighed and the stick came alive, moving forward and thwacking Roland on the head. Roland blinked away the black specks that moved across his vision as he watched the wooden mouth moving in front of him.

"YOU BEAT THEM WITH THE STICK!" Alexander shouted. "NOW STEP FORWARD, BARD!"

That knocked Roland out of his stupor. Taking a deep breath, Roland gripped the stick and held it out in front of him. He wasn't sure what a stick would do against steel weapons but he had no other weapons. The Hobbes waddled up to him, wielding their weapons threateningly. Roland gulped.

"Watch them carefully," Alexander said, so softly that only Roland could hear. "Though they are small, they are very quick. But also very dumb. They will attack you but those arm muscles are too weak to wield those heavy weapons effectively, so the attack will come slow enough to dodge. That is when they leave themselves wide open. Now relax and wait." Roland nodded and did as he was told.

One of the Hobbes, a dark skinned one, jumped forward wielding his axe high above its head, screeching at the top of its lungs. Roland watched the axe come closer to him. It was at that moment that he was sure he was going to die. Die at the hands of a handful of Hobbes. Terror gripped him then.

"Move!" Alexander ordered him. With a jerk of his hand, the stick smacked Roland on the head again, causing him to bend down low. The Hobbes' axe imbedded itself harmlessly into the rock wall, causing the poor thing to dangle helplessly above the ground.

While Roland nursed his bruised forehead, another Hobbe, this one the largest of the five, hefted his hammer up and began to swing it around horizontally. Roland was too busy worrying about his forehead to worry about it. Alexander sighed again and then the stick smacked him across the chest multiple times, causing Roland to step back and welts to grow on his body. He yelped each and every time, while the hammer swung around, missing him by centimeters. The large Hobbes' eyes widened as the weight of the hammer threw him off balance.

"STOP HITTING ME!" Roland yelled at the stick.

"THEN BEAT THEM WITH THE BLOODY STICK!" the stick yelled back.

Roland, angry at being yelled at, struck forward at the largest of the Hobbes', now off balanced by the weight of his own weapon. Roland screamed as he brought the stick down on the unsuspecting Hobbes' head. As the stick connected with the Hobbe, a line of blood was drawn. Slowly, Roland felt the stick slide down the length of the grotesque head. Soon, the head was split open like a watermelon, exposing whatever brains a Hobbe had to the world.

The largest Hobbe, now dead, fell over, spilling its blood on the ground. Roland stared at the stick with wonder and amazement. As did the other Hobbes, now growing fearful of the stick wielding human with strange clothing.

"I should let you know that the stick was the first weapon I ever wielded as a child," Alexander spoke through the mouth, now creepily covered in blood. "I kept it out for sentimental reasons. As I grew older, I added some…augmentations to it."

"You really could have told me about that before I entered the cave," Roland muttered.

"What, and spoil the surprise?" Alexander chuckled. "Now, I suggest you finish off the rest of this rabble before our friend Herman has a heart attack."

Roland nodded and gripped the stick tightly. He gazed at the other Hobbes and smiled slightly. He felt…empowered now. These little wretches were nothing. He could defeat them. He would defeat them.

He first turned his attention to the poor hobbe still dangling above the ground, gripping its imbedded axe tightly. Roland struck it at the back of the head, feeling its skull crack underneath the pressure. He turned quickly and met the onslaught of one of the smaller Hobbes wielding a cleaver. It swung it around quickly and Roland reacted. He twisted his hand, causing the stick to intercept the swing halfway through its curve. The shock of the impact reverberated up his arm but the stick held.

"Nice block!" Alexander cheered. "Now counter!"

Roland screamed as he brought the stick around and swung. It collided with the Hobbes' cheek and instantly, his body burst into flames, much to both of their surprise. The poor Hobbe ran around, burning the fire.

"How?" Roland exclaimed.

"Remember, bard," Alexander said. "Every possibility that I could have made in my life put into one body, like my sister said."

"Are you saying that this stick has each and every possible augmentation placed on it?!" Roland shouted incredulously, jumping away from another Hobbes' cleaver. "How is that possible?"

"I have no idea, but so far, I do not care in the slightest!" Alexander exclaimed happily, laughing all the while. "This is probably the mot fun I ever had slaying Hobbes! I do not know what may happen to them! They could be sliced in half, receive burns, or be squished! Or they may get silver poisoning! This is just…so much fun!"

"Well I'm glad to see one of us is having fun!" Roland exclaimed as he slammed the stick forward, piercing into the Hobbes' eye and killing it.

The final Hobbe was aiming at the crazy man who enjoyed hitting himself with his own stick down a rifle. It screeched as it pulled the trigger. It missed pitifully. And then it went flying across the room as Roland thwacked him across the temple. Dead before it hit the ground.

Roland panted heavily as he recovered. His hands were beginning to shake uncontrollably. He tried to slow his breathing but it was difficult. The fight was…

"Exhilarating, is it not?" Alexander said. Roland only nodded. "Did you have fun? Please be honest." Roland thought for a moment.

"Yes," Roland admitted to himself.

"I thought my first battle was also exciting," Alexander said. "Then I remembered. The people I killed all had futures and they all had pasts. And now they have none. Death is the great ender of all things. These Hobbes, though inhuman, could have had families of their own. They could have been a family. And now, they are dead."

"So," Roland wiped the sweat from his brow. "What you are saying is that all life is special and should be respected. Even if you must take that life away."

"Did I say that? My, I must be smarter than I look!" Alexander exclaimed, laughter in his voice.

"Were…were those Hobbes!" Herman wailed, surprising Roland. He had forgotten about his companion. "Those…horrid things? They, they couldn't really have been children! Could they? Oh, Joey!"

Roland walked up to him and placed his hands on Herman's shoulders.

"We'll find Joey," Roland reassured him. "Don't worry. We'll find him. I promise."

Herman sniffed and nodded. Roland patted his shoulder and began walking. There were a series of raised platforms that circled upwards towards an opening. Seeing no other way out of the room, Roland began to walk upwards with Herman following. Roland looked behind him, making sure that Herman was out of earshot. Then he whispered to Alexander through…the stick.

"Is it true?" Roland asked. "About Hobbes?"

For a moment, Alexander was silent. Roland gulped.

"Yes," Alexander admitted. "Hobbes are created when a Nymph eats a child's soul. I can sense a Nymph nearby but I am having difficulty tracking it down. They always were annoying little insects. Don't let it trouble you, bard. Just focus on getting out of there alive."

Roland gulped again and tightened his grip on the stick, now covered in blood. They reached the top and were treated to a sight of bowls and pottery stacked upon each other, lining the walls of the cave. From beyond, there came a blood-chilling wail.

"That's Joey!" Herman yelled, sprinting forward. "I'm coming, son!"

"Herman, wait!" Roland tried to stop him but his companion was a father. He would not listen to reason when his son was in danger. Roland cursed and ran forward.

The potter along the sides exploded and Hobbes burst out, attacking Roland.

"Outta my way!" Roland shouted, swinging the stick too and fro. Some heads burst open, some were lopped off. Others burst into flames. Yet another simply fell over, dead. None survived when Roland, with his wild swings, was upon them. A child was in danger. A child was in danger! He could hear his screams!

Roland ran down tunnel and found Herman trying to open a door. Roland joined him and grabbed a piece of the wood, pulling with all his might. But it wouldn't budge. And the wailing sound was growing louder.

"I think there's a tunnel back there that goes around!" Herman told him. "You take it and I'll stay and see if I can get it open from here!"

Roland nodded and ran back. He saw the tunnel that Herman was talking about and rushed forward. It was a tight fit, but Roland managed to squeeze through it with ease. He had no muscles after all, as well as no body fat. Roland found himself in a large, moist cave. Seeing another tunnel, he rushed towards it. The wailing was so loud. So loud!

"I've got it!" Herman's shouts echoed throughout the tunnel. "Joey!"

The scream was almost inhuman. Roland pushed himself forward, running almost blindly down the tunnel.

Roland rounded a corner and saw…

"Joey!" Herman exclaimed, seeing his son's recognizable clothing. It was the same clothing his mother knit him when he was just a wee babe. Roland swore, his face couldn't have been happier. "It's Daddy! Joey, we're getting out of here!"

Little Joey would have answered. Little Joey would have turned around and hugged his darling father. Little Joey would have shown so much love that he would have burst at the seams.

But Little Joey was no more.

The Hobbe that was once Little Joey spun around and screeched, axe in hand. It stared evilly at his once-father with malicious contempt. The axe swung through, cutting a wicked line through the air. Herman screamed as the axe cut deep into his side, spilling blood over his once-child's hand. Herman continued to scream as he fell to the ground and as the Hobbe that was once Little Joey jumped on top of him, preparing to swing the axe into its once-father's body. Multiple times.

Roland could only stare at the sight in horror, tears beginning to swell in his eyes. Alexander said nothing. Roland walked up to the little Hobbe with its blue suspenders, red blood over its features. And Roland didn't know what to do.

The Hobbe to the newcomer and bared its razor-sharp teeth.

Roland ended its life.

Herman gurgled and sputtered as his lungs began to fill up. His hand was shaking uncontrollably, so Roland took it within his own trembling hand.

"I…" Herman hacked. "I always told him that those stories were just made up."

Roland didn't know what to say.

"They were true," Herman forced out before he died.

Roland's mouth was agape as he surveyed the scene before him. He shuddered as tears began to fall from his eyes and down his cheeks.

"Roland," Alexander finally spoke. "We must move on. There is nothing more you can do."

"I…I promised him…" Roland voice was hoarse and cracked. "I…said I would find his son."

"Now is not the time to dwell on it, Roland," Alexander told him firmly. "More Hobbes are on their way and they will overwhelm you if you stay there."

"I PROMISED HIM!" Roland screamed and sobbed at the same time.

"And you will die if you don't get out of there," Alexander told him.

Roland knew that he was right. He was always right. Roland gulped and stood up. He could hear the cries and screams of the Hobbes filling the cave. Roland gripped the stick tightly and ran forward. All he could do was run.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

Along the cliffs of Rookridge, the nymph flew gaily through the air, laughing and giggling all the while. What a splendid day! Her children were all thriving brilliantly. They even had a new brother to play with! But life in those awful caves was not suitable for her children. On no. She dreamed of expanding her operation to these beaches and cliffs. Maybe into one of the abandoned houses to start with. Sooner or later, though, maybe they could have their own village! Maybe-

A hand shot into the air and grabbed the glowing nymph, gripping it tightly.

"There you are!" Alexander exclaimed. "I have been searching all over for you!"

"Let me go, human! Before I bite your bloody hands off!" the nymph screeched in a high-pitched voice.

"You will find that quite impossible, my little glowing bugger," Alexander said simply. There was a small flash of light and a platinum gauntlet covered his hand. Old as she was, the nymph recognized the metal as having come from the Platinum Trolls. That made it the strongest metal in the world, by her reckoning. That meant that this human was…

"Alexander the Jack-Slayer," the nymph said. "I heard you were dead."

"Not anymore," Alexander answered. "I'm surprised you heard of me."

"I'm much older than I look, my dear," the nymph replied, squirming in the vice-like grip. "I remember when continued to kill my sisters while escorting those pathetic traders to that farm."

"Your sisters could have let me by without a fuss," Alexander stated.

"They were young and naïve," the nymph sighed. "And now, I am the only one left alive."

"Are you now?" Alexander said. That was news to him.

"Quite," the nymph said, genuinely saddened by it. "The only one of my kind left on this world. Not that my children need me anymore. They are plentiful enough to breed some more of their own kind without my help."

"Still hungry I see," Alexander noted.

"Always," the nymph smiled wickedly. "I know what you think of my kind and I understand. But I have never eaten to excess! Only to survive! Surely you can understand that! You have no reason to kill me!"

Alexander stared at the puny little glowing nymph.

"On that note, you are wrong," Alexander said. "Regardless of whether or not you are only doing this to survive, I cannot allow you to harm anyone else. I am sorry that you are the last of your kind. Truly, I am. But I cannot let you go knowing you will continue to kill innocent children."

The nymph only smiled. She was old enough to know when she was going to die. She sighed.

"I guess this is the fabled Law of Neutrality the Archons are famous for, huh?" the nymph said. "For every good deed they do, the world balances out an evil deed. For every evil deed they commit, the world balances out a good one. So tell me, which one do you think this is? A good one? Surely I will no longer kill anymore-innocent children. But is this not also an evil deed? I am the last of my kind in this world. And isn't all life special?"

Alexander squeezed and the nymph popped.

After the deed was done, Alexander blinked away the rain that had begun to pour down. He stared at his hand, now covered in the blood of the nymph. The rain was slowly washing it away, but…the memory of it stayed with him. A question dawned on him.

What was the point now?

Hearing another presence behind him, Alexander turned and saw Roland behind him. He was disheveled and dirty. The stick was held limp in his hand. Alexander walked up to him and gently took the wooden stick from him. He held it up and it faded away. Back into the pocket.

"Thank you for returning it," Alexander said.

"I promised him," Roland whispered. "I promised."

"I know you did," Alexander said sympathetically.

"Why did you send me in there?" Roland asked. He wasn't angry. He was too tired for anger.

"I wanted to see what your limit was," Alexander explained. "Every hero needs to know where their limit is. That way, they know when they've gone beyond it."

"And Herman?" Roland asked.

"I am not my sister," Alexander said. "I could not have foreseen his end. And I am sorry."

Yet another incident where a good deed was balanced by an evil deed.

"I'm so weak," Roland said sadly.

"So was I," Alexander said. "The question you should be asking yourself is this. Do you want to get stronger?"

"Why?" Roland asked.

"Because if you do," Alexander said simply. "Then you already understand one of the things that made us heroes."

"Your desire to be stronger?" Roland asked.

"Yes," Alexander said. "We were always selfish people. We were so like mercenaries. We only took the jobs that interested us. Whether they were helping people or killing people, it didn't matter. But we were still heroes because we wanted to do these things that no one else wanted to. No one else wanted to rescue a child from a cave full of Hobbes. No one else wanted to escort traders through Darkwood. We did. We wanted to prove to the world how strong we were. And we wanted to be stronger than everyone else. So tell me, bard, do you want to be stronger?"

Roland's knees shook and gave way. His exhaustion took over and he fell forward. As he did, he muttered one word.

"Yes."

Roland fell asleep on Alexander's shoulder, whom merely smiled. He picked up the bard and hefted him over his shoulder. Whistling a merry tune to himself, he began walking up the path.

By the time the sun set on the third day from the cobbles of Bowerstone, they had reached the golden fields of Oakfield.


Wow. It's been a while huh? The last time I updated this fic was…August? Something like that. Sorry about that, I was working on a rather large section in my Mass Effect story. Now that that story arc is over, I'll be working on this some.

One thing I noticed is that it's hard to go from an extremely serious story to a light-hearted one. Took me a few attempts to get this chapter back to the way it was. Hope it worked.

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it. Happy Hanukah to the others who celebrate it. And for everyone else…well, Happy Holidays regardless of whether you celebrate it or not.