At the End of My Rope

Day 1

"You're stumbling again."

"I know."

"Well, quit it."

"Give me a break. It's been a long day."

"Tomorrow will be longer."

"I know that too."

"You didn't have to come."

"I kinda did."

"You had a choice."

"Not another choice I was willing to make, and the choices make the man, yadda yadda."

"Horse."

"Man, horse whatever."

"So why did you have to come?"

"I just want to keep my stupid Hafling alive, is all."

"By what—fighting a dragon for her? You nearly dumped her on herhead when you saw that sheep."

"It was in a bush. And there were two of them. It might have been a wolf."

"My point. If it had been a wolf you'd be in the next county and she'd be wolf bait."

"Shut up. It was scary, okay? I'll be there for her when it counts."

"You're delusional, but I love you anyway."

"I said, shut up."

---

It had been hot already, that morning. The Duke had sent them off, resplendent in velvet and gold; his ministers arrayed behind him in robes appropriate to their office. Their party must have provided a sad contrast: a small, rag-tag band of mercenaries in stained travelling gear, weapons more worn with use and less decorative than any in the Duke's train.

They had an Elf, tall and haughty in dusty-red robes, but from there, it was all downhill. There were two Men, a man and a woman, the relationship between them complicated and changing by the day. There was a Dwarf, quiet and surly and careful of their animals. There was the Halfling. And last and most certainly least there was the gnome, who spoke little and clung to the saddle behind the Hafling like their life depended on it.

Lucky five. And once you added the horses, not-terribly-unlucky nine.

Not that the bipeds did add the horses, of course. Even the best of them seemed to consider two feet to be a prerequisite for self-determination.

It was all one, so far as the horses were concerned. Any horse worth its salt knew how to choose its life; how to be included or rejected for an expedition, how to scare off one rider off or attract another. Which made it all the more puzzling that Blue should have chosen this.

Rose considered his hindquarters, pacing down the track ahead of her, tail swishing from time to time to startle flies from his flanks and her face. At least he was paying more attention to the track in front of him. If he started falling asleep again maybe she'd give him a bite and see how he liked that.

---

"You're falling asleep again."

"Does it matter if I am? Duke knows what to do."

"Yes it matters! You need to be alert at all times. Danger lurks everywhere."

"Pretty sure there's not much lurking in the Duke's lands, unless it's a goose. Or a sheep." The man, Cedric, laughed. "You did not so badly, Master Halfling, to stay in your seat just then."

The halfling just looked at her belly button.

The elf sniffed. "Perhaps she was not falling asleep. As you should not."

"Very well." The woman, Katrice, removed her helmet and shook out her strawberry hair, having apparently decided that whatever lurked, it was not worth the discomfort. "Beguile the way, Master Elf, with a story. Tell us how you know the Lord of Forests."

The elf, Sassenac, frowned. "I don't know the Lord. I know somewhat of the Lord. I doubt any but those who hunt in his train can pretend to come close to knowing him. And truly, not even they."

"Tell us what you know, then," said the woman, determined peacemaker.

"It's little enough," Sassenac replied. "He is lord of forests; lord of wild places and wild things. On the waxing moon his concern is for life and growth and the preservation of that which is."

The dwarf, Grimshaw, spoke. "And on the waning moon?"

"Then he is lord of decay and dissolution, and death. Then he unmakes all that was made while the moon waxed."

"So he is evil, then?" Grimshaw sounded a bit smug. They had little respect for any goings-on above ground.

"Not evil, as men count it, no." Sassenac was naturally tall, and rode a black charger; Grimshaw was short and rode a pony fully as wide as it was tall. It took no effort at all for Sassenac to look down their nose at the dwarf. "Death clears the ground for new growth. Decay is itself growth within the corpse of that which has died. The lord of the forests is the lord, and is not bound by your morality."

The elf sighed, and gave their steed a pat on the shoulder. "Still, it would be best to reach him while the moon yet waxes, and it is at the half now. So we must hurry."

"I have a compost pile."

It was the halfling, Rosa. She was still looking at her belly button, but they all heard her.

"I'm sure you do, dear," Katrice said.

"I take care of it," Rosa said. "I turn it, and feed it, and when it's ready I spread it on the garden and it helps everything to grow." She looked at Sassenac. "I could talk to your lord at the waning moon."