“I’m pretty sure I can hear him,” Rog said.
Vaskel pulled the horses to a stop, and they all paused. Sure enough, loud snoring echoed over the stillness of the village.
“Glen!” Erindil clapped his hands and then extended a finger toward the only snowy mound that had a lavender hue.
Vaskel spurred the horses on again, and they rattled by more halfling holes, lights flicking on as they passed. So much for them slipping in and out of the village unnoticed, Korl thought, although he supposed a cart driven by a Hellkin and carrying an orc, a dwarf, a gnome, and a part-Goliath guard would pique anyone’s curiosity. And that wasn’t even mentioning the elder elf bedecked in furs and jewels.
Soon they were pulling up in front of a halfling home that was covered by a sleeping ostrich instead of snow. The emerald-green door flung open, and a gray-haired halfling emerged in a fluffy pink dressing gown and matching slippers.
She glanced at the assemblage clambering from the back of the cart. “I hope you’ve come to take this bird off my house.”
Erindil alighted with impressive grace, hurrying to the halfling woman and taking her hands in his. “Madame, please accept my most sincere apologies for my ostrich’s behavior.” He looked over her head at her house. “And my compliments on an absolutely enchanting home.”
The halfling’s scowl softened, and then her cheeks flushed. “Ah, well, it’s no trouble.”
Erindil gave her a small bow. “You’re too kind.”
Korl stifled a grin. Say what you would about Lira’s uncle, the elf was a charmer.
Thrain landed with a thump next to Korl and peered up at the snoring bird, who lay sprawled on his back. “You don’t suppose we could roll him off?”
“You’d crush my flower beds,” the halfling cried at the same time Erindil gasped, “He might get hurt in the fall.”
Val squared her shoulders. “I suppose we’re lifting him then.”
Korl met her gaze and gave her a nod. “You on one side and me on the other.”
“I’m with you,” Thrain told Val as they made their way gingerly up the slope of the halfling hole.
Korl nudged Vaskel with his elbow. “That means you’re with me.” He glanced at Rog. “Can you handle both legs?”
“On it,” the gnome said, tossing the point of his cap over his shoulder and heading for the bird’s bare, two-toed feet.
Amid much grunting and heaving, they slid Glen off the mound and walked him over to the cart as Erindil directed and called out encouragement.
After the third “Well done, Glen, good bird,” Thrain shot Korl a dark look. “Maybe we can leave Erindil with the halflings.”
Korl suppressed a grin as he and Val reached the cart and pulled Glen into it. Vaskel and Thrain gave the hefty bird a last shove, and Rog draped the knobby legs over the sides.
“You did it!” Poppin cheered from their small cart as Toobi grinned alongside him. “We can’t thank you enough.”
“Don’t mention it.” Erindil gave the halflings another bow. “It was our pleasure.”
Vaskel rolled his eyes, and Thrain muttered something about elves as they all squeezed back into the cart around the still-sleeping and still-snoring Glen.
Erindil kissed the lady halfling’s hand dramatically before hopping up to the cart’s buckboard, leaving her blushing and waving as if she’d been blessed by a royal visit instead of cursed by a drunk ostrich passed out on her roof.
Korl huffed out a breath, catching the first rays of dawn slipping over the horizon as they rolled away. He might have missed curling up in bed next to Lira, but it hadn’t been a bad solstice.
As they bumped over a bridge, Glen shifted, snorting awake for a moment before Erindil turned and started singing elvish lullabies.
It was certainly one he wouldn’t forget.
CHAPTER9
Three days after the solstice festival, life in Wayside had returned to its familiar rhythm. The decorations had been carefully packed away for next year, the bonfire pit had been raked clean, and the market stalls had resumed their usual arrangement. But something had changed—or rather, something new had been added to the village’s collection of stories.
The tale of Glen’s great adventure had already become legend.
