Disclaimer: Just like in the last two chapters, I don't own this stuff. I'm not sure who does, but kudos to them. Lucky jerks.

Additional Notes: Dalamar's not really a main character, you insane Locke-lover (you know who you are). But I'll probably throw him in randomly. I like to do stuff like that. Hence, why my life is the way it is. Because I do random stuff, have random thoughts. Yeah. Oh, and for the reviewer who asked where the Spork is. That will come about in the…next chapter? Yes, I'm pretty sure the next chapter. For you see, I don't ever plan these humor stories out. It's whatever comes to mind, you know. Winging it, by the seat of my pants…all those nifty phrases.

The Kender Spork of Turning

Chapter Three

"Good thing we were only on the third floor and there were some branches to break my fall," Tas said to himself. He got up off the soft, muddy ground and attempted to brush himself off. A bit bruised, but no worse for wear. After knocking most of the mud clumps and pine needles off, Tas took off into the Grove.

That weird, creeping feeling Tas always got near the Grove took hold of his stomach. But he fought it down and continued on. After all, he had the Kender Spoon AND Fork of Turning. What had he to fear?

"BOO!"

A fiend's hand burst the soil and grabbed Tas' ankle. The kender started before he realized just how cool being grabbed around the ankle by a subterranean fiend was. Though he didn't appreciate how the fiend was wrinkling (and not mention re-dirtying) his new stockings.

"I have you," the eerie voice echoed from under the ground. "You can not escape from us…no one leaves the Grove…"

Gripping his new-found, all-powerful fork tightly, Tas drove the eating utensil into the fiend's hand. Prong pierced flesh and blood flowed as the fiend wailed, "You jerk! Owwww…..www….ww….w…"

The echo faded as the fiend drew his hand back into the soil. Tas stood triumphant, his fearsome fork held out in front of him. The kender fancied that he must look quite the hero with Dalamar-and-fiend-blood-covered weapon. No creature could withstand the Kender Fork of Turning!

In fact, no other fiends bothered Tasslehoff as he marched straight through the Grove.

It was dark in Palanthas. Only a few, shady characters were up and about at this hour. Or so Tas liked to imagine. In actuality, it was just beginning to lighten up. It was, after all, four in the morning. Strolling through the deserted square, Tas glanced over at the closed-up market carts. What might be inside? Freshly baked bread buns? Or perhaps bottles of magic dust? But alas, Tas was a warrior hero now. He had to stay focused on his mission.

Reaching the other side of the square, Tas halted underneath a glowing lamppost. He was not alone—his confederate in heroism and other-activities-that-may-be-frowned-upon-by-authority-figures was also under the lamppost. They stood in silence, both leaning against the post, when Tas' partner spoke.

"Have you seen my hat?"

"…It's on your head."

"Correct! You are indeed who I think you are!"

"Shouldn't we do the secret handshake?"

"…I don't remember how that goes. Fireball?"

"Um, no."

Tas and Fizban stood in silent once more. Both tried to adopt the look of hard-core mercenaries, those who were often out at the godforsaken hours of night and morning, causing all sorts of mischief. Unforunately, a senile wizard-god and a kender were ill-suited for the look. But they tried.

Fizban glanced down at Tas and then away, pretending to ignore his little friend. But then he spoke quietly out of the corner of his mouth. "Have you got the…stuff?"

"Um…yeah!" Tas fished through his pouches and then pulled out a small, light-weight jug. "I stopped by the store and got your prune juice on the way to Dalamar's."

Fizban jumped up and clicked his heels in happiness. "Prune juice! Yay! Oh, um…did you get that other thing?"

"What other thing?"

"The thing from Dalamar? The…knife?"

"I have a knife. Caramon calls it 'Rabbitslayer' because he said that's all I'll ever be able to kill with it. But one time—"

"That's nothing. I had a fireball once. Spoon?"

"I have a spoon! Not just any spoon, but the Kender Spoon of Turning!"

"How that come in handy? Turn your cornflakes over?"

"It's not for cornflakes, it's for ghouls."

"Why are we talking about your breakfast? I want to know if you got that Fork from Dalamar."

"I did get the fork from Dalamar. He helped me find it—"

"Why did you do that? You already have a fork. That Kender Whatsit."

"No, but now I do. I had the Kender Spoon of Turning and now I have the Kender Fork Turning because I just got it from Dalamar!"

"…Where's my hat?"

The two halted in their conversation and stood blinking. Fizban was trying to remember where his hat was located. Tas was trying to remember where the conversation had gone.

But farther away, Dalamar was about to have bigger problems. The true Master of the Tower had just arrived on his doorstep.

End of Chapter Three