THE MESSENGER
The messenger found Benarque lazily fishing in by the pool in Surefall Glade, and handed him a sealed scroll. The perplexed ranger set aside his pole and eyed the seal; it bore the rune-mark of his old friend Belrosian, the wizard. A hurried reading of the parchment brought a smile to Benarque's stubbly face and he exclaimed, "Belrosian Kenshed, a father!" He stood up and slapped the mystified messenger boy on the back. "What news! Who would have ever thought? Here is a gold piece for your trouble, lad," he said, handing a shining coin to the boy. "And you'll have another if you wait a spell for me compose a reply." Benarque rushed into his cabin and returned with parchment and quill and began to write. After a few minutes, he finished and looked it over with approval. It read:
Dearest Belrosian,
Most high and honored congratulations to you! This is indeed the most wonderful magic you have ever devised, and you will no doubt be remembered more for these two fruits of your labor than any arcane lightning bolt. My heart weeps that I cannot be near to celebrate the naming of the twain. They have a good man to guide them into this frightening world we live in. I trust you thoroughly to teach them as you taught me, and help them find their destinies, be they under wood or sky, marble or stone. Your wisdom and love will be all they need.
May you and your family know a long and joyful time of peace and prosperity. May the little ones be twice blessed to grow into strong and brave adventurers like their father. May they always seek knowledge and tranquility under your watchful eye. And always remember their Uncle Benarque will be glad to show them the ways of the wood, and tell them all the tales of a musty scholar with a heart of gold.
Praise the gods for your gift of life, two lives. Love them well, my friend. You are a worthy father. Peace and happiness be with you the rest of your days.
May your spells never fizzle, and your robes never want for cleaning,
~Benarque of Surefall, your loyal friend
The messenger raced off with the precious letter secure in a scrollcase, while Benarque smiled after him. The wizard would scarce have time to read a simple letter now, but somehow he knew all things would balance out. He felt lucky to have such a friend.
Scooping up his fishing pole and tackle, he made for his workshop to begin carving out the yew for two miniature longbows, like the ones the Gladesman wield but small enough for a child to use. He engraved each of their names on the handgrip of the bows and before long, held two beautifully crafted Jaggedpine bows which he packed away carefully in a chest. He suited up in his travelling gear, all but his sword. This he left sitting in its sheath on the wall of his cabin. He would not need it for this journey.
Benarque strode into the west, a smile on his face, the wind in his hair. Belrosian a father. Who would have imagined it?
The messenger found Benarque lazily fishing in by the pool in Surefall Glade, and handed him a sealed scroll. The perplexed ranger set aside his pole and eyed the seal; it bore the rune-mark of his old friend Belrosian, the wizard. A hurried reading of the parchment brought a smile to Benarque's stubbly face and he exclaimed, "Belrosian Kenshed, a father!" He stood up and slapped the mystified messenger boy on the back. "What news! Who would have ever thought? Here is a gold piece for your trouble, lad," he said, handing a shining coin to the boy. "And you'll have another if you wait a spell for me compose a reply." Benarque rushed into his cabin and returned with parchment and quill and began to write. After a few minutes, he finished and looked it over with approval. It read:
Dearest Belrosian,
Most high and honored congratulations to you! This is indeed the most wonderful magic you have ever devised, and you will no doubt be remembered more for these two fruits of your labor than any arcane lightning bolt. My heart weeps that I cannot be near to celebrate the naming of the twain. They have a good man to guide them into this frightening world we live in. I trust you thoroughly to teach them as you taught me, and help them find their destinies, be they under wood or sky, marble or stone. Your wisdom and love will be all they need.
May you and your family know a long and joyful time of peace and prosperity. May the little ones be twice blessed to grow into strong and brave adventurers like their father. May they always seek knowledge and tranquility under your watchful eye. And always remember their Uncle Benarque will be glad to show them the ways of the wood, and tell them all the tales of a musty scholar with a heart of gold.
Praise the gods for your gift of life, two lives. Love them well, my friend. You are a worthy father. Peace and happiness be with you the rest of your days.
May your spells never fizzle, and your robes never want for cleaning,
~Benarque of Surefall, your loyal friend
The messenger raced off with the precious letter secure in a scrollcase, while Benarque smiled after him. The wizard would scarce have time to read a simple letter now, but somehow he knew all things would balance out. He felt lucky to have such a friend.
Scooping up his fishing pole and tackle, he made for his workshop to begin carving out the yew for two miniature longbows, like the ones the Gladesman wield but small enough for a child to use. He engraved each of their names on the handgrip of the bows and before long, held two beautifully crafted Jaggedpine bows which he packed away carefully in a chest. He suited up in his travelling gear, all but his sword. This he left sitting in its sheath on the wall of his cabin. He would not need it for this journey.
Benarque strode into the west, a smile on his face, the wind in his hair. Belrosian a father. Who would have imagined it?