AN- Thank you all so much for your reviews! This next chapter is my
longest so far, and to be honest, not really my best, because it's nearly
impossible to write a dwarf as a child. I did what I could, though.
I know that dwarves live much longer than people (something like 300 years), but can you really imagine a dwarf staying a child for very long? Me neither. That's why I'm aging Gimli at normal speed, so 8 = 8.
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The next day's hike went easier than anyone expected. It was nearly exclusively downhill and the hobbits felt almost as if they were back in the Shire, walking the well-trodden paths and roads. Everyone was in high spirits-until late afternoon when the cold wind that had blown down from the mountains the other day picked up again, worse than ever.
That night found the Fellowship huddled round the fire, their teeth chattering. Frodo and Sam had put on every extra article of clothing they could find and huddled under their blankets. Aragorn had already climbed into his bedroll in hope of fighting off the bitter cold, and Gandalf warmed some water to drink, muttering about the lack of tea. Gimli sat as close to the fire as he could stand, causing Legolas, who was unaffected by cold weather, to warn him not to sit too close, lest he catch his beard on fire. Boromir as well felt mostly untouched by the icy winds. He did, after all, hold claim to the best blanket in the fellowship.
Merry leaned over and whispered something in Pippin's ear. Nodding, the young hobbit approached the Gondorian soldier with his cousin, and simply stared at him.
Boromir cocked his head curiously at the pair. "What?" he asked them, and received no response. "What, what is it?" he asked again. He glanced down at his blanket. "Oh no, you've both got your own blankets, leave mine alone."
"Please, Boromir? Please?" Pippin begged him, which had been part of the plan all along. Merry knew that Boromir favored Pippin best of all the hobbits, and he had decided this method of attack. "We're terribly cold and our blankets are small. Please share."
The soldier sighed, his breath rising in a cloud toward the clear night sky. "Fine, come here." He lifted the blanket and let them each sit next to him. "Don't say I never did anything nice for you," he added. Pippin snuggled up next to him for warmth.
"I think all Big People must have blankets like this, Merry," he said. "They're always so * warm *." Boromir had to laugh at that.
A pine knot in the wood caught fire, causing a loud pop and an eruption of sparks shooting like fireflies in all direction. Gimli jumped back with a startled cry, shielding his beard. Legolas smirked at him. "What did I say, Master Dwarf? If you don't move back, you may not have a beard in the morning. Unless, of course, you wish to stay close to the light for fear the dark."
"Ha!" the dwarf exclaimed. "That's preposterous, elf. There's not a dwarf in all the caves of my homeland that fears the dark, nor has there ever been. We live in the dark, we work in the dark, and we thrive in the dark. No dwarf, for the sake of his pride, would ever admit--"
A rich laugh rang out through the camp. Startled, the elf and dwarf sharply turned their heads toward Gandalf, who seemed to find Gimli's statement amusing. "Sorry, Gimli," Gandalf snickered, "but you reminded me of a tale from your youth."
"Story time!" Pippin cried. He grabbed Boromir's arm and tried to drag him to the fire. "Boromir, let's move closer."
Exasperated, Boromir cried out to the fellowship, "Does no one yet tire of this storytelling?"
"NO!" everyone yelled back. Boromir sighed.
"Now this story," Gandalf continued, "took place when Gimli was an eight year old dwarf child."
Frodo shook his head. "I honestly can't picture a dwarf child," he said.
Gandalf smiled. "Well--- I suppose the best way to describe one would be to picture a very sturdy and feisty hobbit."
*************
The three teenaged dwarves hiked for over a mile through the twisting stone passages, past dark pits that seemed to have no bottom, and rivers that never saw the light of day, having no idea that a smaller creature was following them closely. Soft footed, it crept behind, keeping a safe distance from the others.
"Are we nearly there, Corin?" asked Thrain for the hundredth time. "I thought this place was close to home."
"Yes, we're almost there, so stop your complaining," Corin shot back. "Honestly, you'd think you've never been on a walk before."
They continued walking along for some time before Corin said, "We're almost there, it's just over this rock." He scaled up a large boulder that jutted out onto the path. "I found this place just last week. I don't think anyone else even knows about it." He reached down from the rocks and helped his friends up.
"I don't see what's so great about this," Garin said when he finally reached the top. "It's just a limestone pool. Not like I haven't seen a hundred of those."
"Yea, but look at this." Corin walked over to a giant stick in the corner. He brought it over and stuck the end in. "This stick must be fifteen feet long, and I don't think it even begins to touch the bottom."
"So it's a very deep limestone pool. So what?"
"You know, Thrain, no one cares if you stick around, so if you don't like it--"
"All right, never mind," Thrain griped. " Anyways, at least it's got a place to sit." He walked over to one of the boulders that flanked the pool and sat, his friends following. "Hey, did you guys ever hear this one? A ranger walks into a pub looking for a good time, and he sees a naked elf behind the bar--"
"Hello? Someone help me up!"
"Who was that?" Thrain said, greatly annoyed that someone had interrupted his joke. He made his way back over to the big rock they had climbed and looked over the edge. "Garin, it's your little cousin." He turned back to the young dwarf. "Gimli, go home."
"No, I want to stay with you guys," Gimli called back up.
"You can't, you're not a big kid yet."
"I am so!"
"You are not!"
"I am!"
"You're--"
"Hang on a second, Thrain," Garin broke in. "I've got an idea. Gimli!" he called to the youngster. "Do you want to hang out with us?"
Gimli nodded.
"Ok, you can, but first you have to prove that you're old enough."
Gimli looked at him curiously. "How exactly do I do that?" he asked.
"Simple. Just follow me." Garin climbed down the rock.
Thrain sighed. "More walking--"
The dwarves' hike continued down the rocky paths. Gimli gazed about in wonder, rarely getting the opportunity to venture this far from his home. The stone walls towered above him, seeming to never reach an end, and the cliffs fell to depths he couldn't begin to imagine. They passed scores of dark caves and mine shafts, and the fire from their torches caused the shadows to flicker, as if bringing life to the rocks.
"How much farther, Garin?"
"Not that much more, so shut your mouth!" Garin snapped back at Thrain. Sulking, the dwarf complied and continued to march.
After at least another mile, Garin halted in front of one of the many caves they had passed. "Here it is," he announced triumphantly. "The caves of Nain's Folly"
"The what?" asked Gimli.
Garin stared at him with surprise. "You mean you've never heard the story of King Nain and the elves?" Gimli shook his head. "Well, many years ago," Garin began, "When Nain the first was king, an small group of Mirkwood elves were caught trespassing in one of the secret realms of our land. Naturally, after someone has been captured within the secret realms, they can never be set free again, lest they reveal its location. So Nain locked the elves away in a cell," he gestured toward the dark opening in the wall, "deep in the dark of this cave. The elves were dead within a month."
"Why did they die?" Gimli asked, wide eyed. "Did Nain starve them?"
"Don't be stupid," Garin scolded him. "Dwarves do not starve their prisoners. But wood elves are very strange and mysterious creatures. They draw their life from the trees around them, and in the caves they had no trees. So they simply died."
"I still don't understand why they call it Nain's folly," Gimli interrupted once again.
"Hang on, I'm getting to that," Garin continued. " Not long after the elves had died, Nain found an old writing by Durin. It turns out that Durin's folk had escaped Moria with quite a bit of treasure, enough Mithril to pay for all a dwarf city, if one wanted to. And he had hidden it--" once again, Garin gestured into the cave, "-In the depths of this very cave. Of course Nain sent in a small army of dwarves to recover the treasure, but few were ever seen again."
"W-W-What happened to them?" Gimli stuttered.
"Well you see, of the few who came back, most were insane. But one dwarf of sound mind told the story. They had been marching through the cave and they passed the cell where the elves had been held not so long ago. Suddenly, it was if they were being massacred by the darkness alone. They could hear tortured voices screaming in Elvish demanding their freedom. Those dwarves who were not already dead ran for the entrance, but in their terror some became confused and ran further into the cave. We can only assume they died at the hands of the vengeful spirit of the elves."
By this point, Gimli had edged away from the entrance of the cave. "W-What does this have to do with me?" he asked, dreading the answer.
"Well," said Garin, "If you're such an adult, you have to prove it by going into the caves to claim a piece of treasure."
Gimli's eyes became like twin moons. "In there?" he squeaked, a very unnatural noise for a dwarf.
"That's right. Prove your bravery and we'll let you stay with us. But of course, if you don't want to," Garin smirk, " you can always go home."
Gimli thought this over. He definitely didn't want to set foot in that cave, but he also wasn't happy about being sent home by his older cousin. Especially if everyone was going to think that he was being a baby. Besides, he was sure that Garin was lying-----pretty sure, anyway. "Ok," he said bravely.
"What?" Garin hadn't been prepared for this.
"I'll go," Gimli said, puffing out his little chest. "But you have to give me a torch. I wont go in without some light."
"Uh----sure." Garin took Corin's torch from him and handed it to the small dwarf, who then marched proudly into the cave.
"You're not * really * gonna let him go in there, are you?" Corin exclaimed. "With all those elf spirits? He's only eight!"
"Don't be a moron, Corin. I made all that stuff up. It's just a regular old cave, he'll be fine." Gavin turned to go. "I'm sick of all this stuff, let's go home."
Thrain sighed. "More walking----"
Now that he found himself alone in the dark, Gimli's façade of bravery quickly crumbled. Garin's tale, which had seemed like such a lie in the company of others came back to him with full force, and each second it gained more and more credibility in his mind. Gimli's breath was soft and quick as he attempted to be a silent as possible, quite a challenge for a dwarf. The rock tunnel slowly grew smaller and tighter, and to Gimli it was a frightening change after having been in the enormous stone halls of the mines not five minutes earlier.
The tunnel began to slope downward and to the left, and Gimli followed it, listening to the soft dripping noise echo off the stone. Only, in his mind it was no longer dripping water, but the sound of elven footsteps creeping up behind him, an elf, a knife in the dark, drawn, ready to strike----
Gimli halted as he reached a sudden fork in the cave. One passage led to the left, the other led right. I need a map he wished in vain. Suppose one passage led to the treasure and the other led to the elves' cell, the sight of the massacre of all those dwarves? But which is which? He must have stared at the dark entrance to those passages for ten minutes, his muscles ridged with the thought of what might be waiting down each, before hearing a loud *THUD * just behind him. His brain only registering blind panic, Gimli flew into the left passage, dropping his torch in a puddle.
The young dwarf ran down the cave corridor until pure reason made him stop. He was now engulfed in complete darkness, and if a pit opened up in front of him he'd have no way to see it. Why did I ever follow Garin, he asked himself. Why did I agree to go into this cave? How am I going to get out of this? Slowly, he made his way back though the cave, gripping the walls. Oh gods, what if I meet up with the elf spirits? Gimli's panicked mind asked. "There's no such thing," he whispered. "There's no such---" "Gimli!"
Gimli froze in place, terror seizing him. Something was calling for him. Something that knew his name! He was done for, certain to be slaughtered by an evil elf ghost seeking revenge.
"Giiiimli!" The voice cried again, a bit louder this time.
Gimli's knees gave way. He slumped against the cold, wet wall and slid down it until he was sitting. Tears sprang to his eyes and he let them fall. He was going to die, and it would be terrible and no one would ever find his body and---
A fluttering sound came from overhead, and the dwarf's heart felt as if it had plummeted to the depths of his belly and beyond. Sick to his stomach, Gimli closed his eyes and awaited doom. The fluttering came closer, and a moment later, something flew past his ear. He cried out in the darkness before a new darkness took hold and the child collapsed onto the stone floor.
********************
"Gimli's father found him passed out on the floor of the cave," Gandalf explained. "He had mistaken the bats circling above him as vengeful elven spirits, as anyone would, of course."
Everyone laughed out loud at that, even Gimli, but no one laughed quite as loud as Legolas. "A dwarf afraid of a bat!" he chuckled. "That's like a wood elf fearing a squirrel." He stopped when he noticed that the whole fellowship was staring at him.
"I had forgotten of that!" Gimli said. "It was weeks before I would go near a mine cave again, and my cousin Garin got quite the punishment, if my memory serves me."
"It does," Gandalf replied. "I believe he was made to stay away from his friends for a month. Though, if I recall, as soon as the month was over he was right back to deciphering new tortures for you, Gimli. Had he gotten a taste of my caster oil punishment, he would have never gone near you again."
"Oh, I learned to avoid him when he was with his friends," the dwarf mused. "Alone, he could be almost friendly."
"Which reminds me," Gandalf broke in dryly. "Legolas. Since you found Gimli's fright to be so amusing, I think I'll tell your tale tomorrow night."
The elf laughed at what sounded like a shallow threat. "And what stories of foolishness do you have on me?" he asked.
"Oh, you'll see," said the wizard.
I know that dwarves live much longer than people (something like 300 years), but can you really imagine a dwarf staying a child for very long? Me neither. That's why I'm aging Gimli at normal speed, so 8 = 8.
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The next day's hike went easier than anyone expected. It was nearly exclusively downhill and the hobbits felt almost as if they were back in the Shire, walking the well-trodden paths and roads. Everyone was in high spirits-until late afternoon when the cold wind that had blown down from the mountains the other day picked up again, worse than ever.
That night found the Fellowship huddled round the fire, their teeth chattering. Frodo and Sam had put on every extra article of clothing they could find and huddled under their blankets. Aragorn had already climbed into his bedroll in hope of fighting off the bitter cold, and Gandalf warmed some water to drink, muttering about the lack of tea. Gimli sat as close to the fire as he could stand, causing Legolas, who was unaffected by cold weather, to warn him not to sit too close, lest he catch his beard on fire. Boromir as well felt mostly untouched by the icy winds. He did, after all, hold claim to the best blanket in the fellowship.
Merry leaned over and whispered something in Pippin's ear. Nodding, the young hobbit approached the Gondorian soldier with his cousin, and simply stared at him.
Boromir cocked his head curiously at the pair. "What?" he asked them, and received no response. "What, what is it?" he asked again. He glanced down at his blanket. "Oh no, you've both got your own blankets, leave mine alone."
"Please, Boromir? Please?" Pippin begged him, which had been part of the plan all along. Merry knew that Boromir favored Pippin best of all the hobbits, and he had decided this method of attack. "We're terribly cold and our blankets are small. Please share."
The soldier sighed, his breath rising in a cloud toward the clear night sky. "Fine, come here." He lifted the blanket and let them each sit next to him. "Don't say I never did anything nice for you," he added. Pippin snuggled up next to him for warmth.
"I think all Big People must have blankets like this, Merry," he said. "They're always so * warm *." Boromir had to laugh at that.
A pine knot in the wood caught fire, causing a loud pop and an eruption of sparks shooting like fireflies in all direction. Gimli jumped back with a startled cry, shielding his beard. Legolas smirked at him. "What did I say, Master Dwarf? If you don't move back, you may not have a beard in the morning. Unless, of course, you wish to stay close to the light for fear the dark."
"Ha!" the dwarf exclaimed. "That's preposterous, elf. There's not a dwarf in all the caves of my homeland that fears the dark, nor has there ever been. We live in the dark, we work in the dark, and we thrive in the dark. No dwarf, for the sake of his pride, would ever admit--"
A rich laugh rang out through the camp. Startled, the elf and dwarf sharply turned their heads toward Gandalf, who seemed to find Gimli's statement amusing. "Sorry, Gimli," Gandalf snickered, "but you reminded me of a tale from your youth."
"Story time!" Pippin cried. He grabbed Boromir's arm and tried to drag him to the fire. "Boromir, let's move closer."
Exasperated, Boromir cried out to the fellowship, "Does no one yet tire of this storytelling?"
"NO!" everyone yelled back. Boromir sighed.
"Now this story," Gandalf continued, "took place when Gimli was an eight year old dwarf child."
Frodo shook his head. "I honestly can't picture a dwarf child," he said.
Gandalf smiled. "Well--- I suppose the best way to describe one would be to picture a very sturdy and feisty hobbit."
*************
The three teenaged dwarves hiked for over a mile through the twisting stone passages, past dark pits that seemed to have no bottom, and rivers that never saw the light of day, having no idea that a smaller creature was following them closely. Soft footed, it crept behind, keeping a safe distance from the others.
"Are we nearly there, Corin?" asked Thrain for the hundredth time. "I thought this place was close to home."
"Yes, we're almost there, so stop your complaining," Corin shot back. "Honestly, you'd think you've never been on a walk before."
They continued walking along for some time before Corin said, "We're almost there, it's just over this rock." He scaled up a large boulder that jutted out onto the path. "I found this place just last week. I don't think anyone else even knows about it." He reached down from the rocks and helped his friends up.
"I don't see what's so great about this," Garin said when he finally reached the top. "It's just a limestone pool. Not like I haven't seen a hundred of those."
"Yea, but look at this." Corin walked over to a giant stick in the corner. He brought it over and stuck the end in. "This stick must be fifteen feet long, and I don't think it even begins to touch the bottom."
"So it's a very deep limestone pool. So what?"
"You know, Thrain, no one cares if you stick around, so if you don't like it--"
"All right, never mind," Thrain griped. " Anyways, at least it's got a place to sit." He walked over to one of the boulders that flanked the pool and sat, his friends following. "Hey, did you guys ever hear this one? A ranger walks into a pub looking for a good time, and he sees a naked elf behind the bar--"
"Hello? Someone help me up!"
"Who was that?" Thrain said, greatly annoyed that someone had interrupted his joke. He made his way back over to the big rock they had climbed and looked over the edge. "Garin, it's your little cousin." He turned back to the young dwarf. "Gimli, go home."
"No, I want to stay with you guys," Gimli called back up.
"You can't, you're not a big kid yet."
"I am so!"
"You are not!"
"I am!"
"You're--"
"Hang on a second, Thrain," Garin broke in. "I've got an idea. Gimli!" he called to the youngster. "Do you want to hang out with us?"
Gimli nodded.
"Ok, you can, but first you have to prove that you're old enough."
Gimli looked at him curiously. "How exactly do I do that?" he asked.
"Simple. Just follow me." Garin climbed down the rock.
Thrain sighed. "More walking--"
The dwarves' hike continued down the rocky paths. Gimli gazed about in wonder, rarely getting the opportunity to venture this far from his home. The stone walls towered above him, seeming to never reach an end, and the cliffs fell to depths he couldn't begin to imagine. They passed scores of dark caves and mine shafts, and the fire from their torches caused the shadows to flicker, as if bringing life to the rocks.
"How much farther, Garin?"
"Not that much more, so shut your mouth!" Garin snapped back at Thrain. Sulking, the dwarf complied and continued to march.
After at least another mile, Garin halted in front of one of the many caves they had passed. "Here it is," he announced triumphantly. "The caves of Nain's Folly"
"The what?" asked Gimli.
Garin stared at him with surprise. "You mean you've never heard the story of King Nain and the elves?" Gimli shook his head. "Well, many years ago," Garin began, "When Nain the first was king, an small group of Mirkwood elves were caught trespassing in one of the secret realms of our land. Naturally, after someone has been captured within the secret realms, they can never be set free again, lest they reveal its location. So Nain locked the elves away in a cell," he gestured toward the dark opening in the wall, "deep in the dark of this cave. The elves were dead within a month."
"Why did they die?" Gimli asked, wide eyed. "Did Nain starve them?"
"Don't be stupid," Garin scolded him. "Dwarves do not starve their prisoners. But wood elves are very strange and mysterious creatures. They draw their life from the trees around them, and in the caves they had no trees. So they simply died."
"I still don't understand why they call it Nain's folly," Gimli interrupted once again.
"Hang on, I'm getting to that," Garin continued. " Not long after the elves had died, Nain found an old writing by Durin. It turns out that Durin's folk had escaped Moria with quite a bit of treasure, enough Mithril to pay for all a dwarf city, if one wanted to. And he had hidden it--" once again, Garin gestured into the cave, "-In the depths of this very cave. Of course Nain sent in a small army of dwarves to recover the treasure, but few were ever seen again."
"W-W-What happened to them?" Gimli stuttered.
"Well you see, of the few who came back, most were insane. But one dwarf of sound mind told the story. They had been marching through the cave and they passed the cell where the elves had been held not so long ago. Suddenly, it was if they were being massacred by the darkness alone. They could hear tortured voices screaming in Elvish demanding their freedom. Those dwarves who were not already dead ran for the entrance, but in their terror some became confused and ran further into the cave. We can only assume they died at the hands of the vengeful spirit of the elves."
By this point, Gimli had edged away from the entrance of the cave. "W-What does this have to do with me?" he asked, dreading the answer.
"Well," said Garin, "If you're such an adult, you have to prove it by going into the caves to claim a piece of treasure."
Gimli's eyes became like twin moons. "In there?" he squeaked, a very unnatural noise for a dwarf.
"That's right. Prove your bravery and we'll let you stay with us. But of course, if you don't want to," Garin smirk, " you can always go home."
Gimli thought this over. He definitely didn't want to set foot in that cave, but he also wasn't happy about being sent home by his older cousin. Especially if everyone was going to think that he was being a baby. Besides, he was sure that Garin was lying-----pretty sure, anyway. "Ok," he said bravely.
"What?" Garin hadn't been prepared for this.
"I'll go," Gimli said, puffing out his little chest. "But you have to give me a torch. I wont go in without some light."
"Uh----sure." Garin took Corin's torch from him and handed it to the small dwarf, who then marched proudly into the cave.
"You're not * really * gonna let him go in there, are you?" Corin exclaimed. "With all those elf spirits? He's only eight!"
"Don't be a moron, Corin. I made all that stuff up. It's just a regular old cave, he'll be fine." Gavin turned to go. "I'm sick of all this stuff, let's go home."
Thrain sighed. "More walking----"
Now that he found himself alone in the dark, Gimli's façade of bravery quickly crumbled. Garin's tale, which had seemed like such a lie in the company of others came back to him with full force, and each second it gained more and more credibility in his mind. Gimli's breath was soft and quick as he attempted to be a silent as possible, quite a challenge for a dwarf. The rock tunnel slowly grew smaller and tighter, and to Gimli it was a frightening change after having been in the enormous stone halls of the mines not five minutes earlier.
The tunnel began to slope downward and to the left, and Gimli followed it, listening to the soft dripping noise echo off the stone. Only, in his mind it was no longer dripping water, but the sound of elven footsteps creeping up behind him, an elf, a knife in the dark, drawn, ready to strike----
Gimli halted as he reached a sudden fork in the cave. One passage led to the left, the other led right. I need a map he wished in vain. Suppose one passage led to the treasure and the other led to the elves' cell, the sight of the massacre of all those dwarves? But which is which? He must have stared at the dark entrance to those passages for ten minutes, his muscles ridged with the thought of what might be waiting down each, before hearing a loud *THUD * just behind him. His brain only registering blind panic, Gimli flew into the left passage, dropping his torch in a puddle.
The young dwarf ran down the cave corridor until pure reason made him stop. He was now engulfed in complete darkness, and if a pit opened up in front of him he'd have no way to see it. Why did I ever follow Garin, he asked himself. Why did I agree to go into this cave? How am I going to get out of this? Slowly, he made his way back though the cave, gripping the walls. Oh gods, what if I meet up with the elf spirits? Gimli's panicked mind asked. "There's no such thing," he whispered. "There's no such---" "Gimli!"
Gimli froze in place, terror seizing him. Something was calling for him. Something that knew his name! He was done for, certain to be slaughtered by an evil elf ghost seeking revenge.
"Giiiimli!" The voice cried again, a bit louder this time.
Gimli's knees gave way. He slumped against the cold, wet wall and slid down it until he was sitting. Tears sprang to his eyes and he let them fall. He was going to die, and it would be terrible and no one would ever find his body and---
A fluttering sound came from overhead, and the dwarf's heart felt as if it had plummeted to the depths of his belly and beyond. Sick to his stomach, Gimli closed his eyes and awaited doom. The fluttering came closer, and a moment later, something flew past his ear. He cried out in the darkness before a new darkness took hold and the child collapsed onto the stone floor.
********************
"Gimli's father found him passed out on the floor of the cave," Gandalf explained. "He had mistaken the bats circling above him as vengeful elven spirits, as anyone would, of course."
Everyone laughed out loud at that, even Gimli, but no one laughed quite as loud as Legolas. "A dwarf afraid of a bat!" he chuckled. "That's like a wood elf fearing a squirrel." He stopped when he noticed that the whole fellowship was staring at him.
"I had forgotten of that!" Gimli said. "It was weeks before I would go near a mine cave again, and my cousin Garin got quite the punishment, if my memory serves me."
"It does," Gandalf replied. "I believe he was made to stay away from his friends for a month. Though, if I recall, as soon as the month was over he was right back to deciphering new tortures for you, Gimli. Had he gotten a taste of my caster oil punishment, he would have never gone near you again."
"Oh, I learned to avoid him when he was with his friends," the dwarf mused. "Alone, he could be almost friendly."
"Which reminds me," Gandalf broke in dryly. "Legolas. Since you found Gimli's fright to be so amusing, I think I'll tell your tale tomorrow night."
The elf laughed at what sounded like a shallow threat. "And what stories of foolishness do you have on me?" he asked.
"Oh, you'll see," said the wizard.