The Adventures of Gandalf, the Fox and the Dwarf - the Beginning
The Dwarf was good at counting. Like, for example, it never happened that he lost count counting to a hundred when he boiled an egg cuz it was that magic number ensuring that the egg was done soft and proper. Although, if anybody asked him how long he lived in that underground cave he considered home, he most likely wouldn't be able to answer. Since it was always that way. Like, even if there was some sort of a beginning at some point, nobody back then told him to start counting, so he didn't. In other words, he didn't know.
The cave was filled with a multitude of simple and not so simple things that were kept in such a perfect order that could probably put to shame even the most diligent housewife in the history of diligent housewives. Once, when a little mouse recklessly dug a hole through the wall behind the cupboard, the Dwarf had such an onslaught of anxiety that the cocoa he brewed ended up burned to the stove, the sugar jar miraculously appeared to be half filled with flour, the whole sleugh of other small calamities swept through the household, and there was no telling what could've happened if it wasn't a mouse but something a little bit more disturbing, say, a rat.
One day though the usual order of things was suddenly disrupted by an unusual occurrence. To be more precise, it was the Light. Not like the habitual golden radiance of a candle, it was something different. In fact, more than anything, the Light reminded a bright silver string stretched between the floor and the ceiling. The Dwarf had never seen such a thing before, and since he didn't believe in miracles, and fairy tales, and stuff, he decided to investigate, hoping to find in his vast collection of books some clue to what that strange phenomenon might've meant.
If someone had noticed that inconspicuous door at the bottom of the cave wall he would've presumed that most likely it led to a regular closet filled with old brooms, winter shoes converted into some sort of sanctuary for moths, marmalade jars, and other stuff like that. Although, if that person suddenly felt an urge to have a peek inside, some cheeky flies apparently would've gotten a chance to take a tour through his mouth, wide open in amazement.
It looked like a sort of parallel dimension, where the endless stacks of bookshelves stretched themselves far to the infinity and beyond. Heavy volumes enclosed in solid leather bindings - the storage of ancient wisdom - presumably contained in them the answers to all the imaginable questions. Well, at least so far, they never failed whenever the Dwarf wasn't certain about anything and looked for some sort of clarification. So he felt baffled and confused a bit when for the first time the answers weren't there. The reason actually was that the knowledge in those books was strictly limited to the matters of the underworld. Not surprisingly though since they were, in fact, written by dwarves who never been to the surface either.
The Dwarf remembered the old saying "When you lose something you find something," so he tried but couldn't figure out yet what was that thing that was supposed to replace his inner peace and feeling of tranquility lost in the process. He went on looking for the cause of this strange lightning phenomena, hoping that it might help him recover his internal balance and stuff. His first discovery was the crack in the ceiling through which the beam of strange light found its way into his cave. The Dwarf began to climb up. Long story short - It was a long and arduous journey through narrow paths, and dark wormholes, and stuff, until finally, he found himself in another cave that seemed to be significantly bigger and more spacious than that he so recently left.
The Dwarf knew a big deal about various sciences and he especially favored those applicable to practical matters. For example, while studying Chemistry, he figured out how to turn lead into gold and Physics provided him with enough knowledge to make some useful tools - like the contraption for cracking nuts, and other stuff like that. On the contrary, when the Dwarf read anything related to Astrology, he smirked and sniggered contemptuously, as he pictured those scholars in the form of sly little spiders, weaving a web that intricately connected the future and the past, and then lured in those gullible enough to fall for that, like some unfortunate flies whose brains were destined to be irreversibly corrupted by their yadda yadda. Also, speaking of the four Natural Elements, the Dwarf only believed in one Element - the Earth - as it was observable and provable, and he and all of his kin belonged to it, while the other elements could simply be the figments of somebody's imagination. So he thought.
So with this pragmatic mindset, after finding himself in this unusual situation - namely, in a huge cave, the likes of which he'd never encountered before - the Dwarf decided to approach the matter sensibly and practically. First things first, he had to measure the cave - its length and breadth - using the length of his step (he thought he knew relatively well) as a measuring stick. In other words, he started walking around, counting his steps as he went. This seemingly simple task turned out to be really hard to accomplish in practice. Like, there were way too many distractions. At some point - approximately at each forth step - the Dwarf had become overwhelmed by the marvels around, so he gaped, and gawked, and marveled, wide-eyed, and jaw-dropped, in other words, the measuring didn't go well.
At first, the Dwarf couldn't see much in the dazzling light around, but soon his eyes adjusted, and he was able to take in the details of the scenery. It was the sight to behold. High above him, the Dwarf saw a magnificent azure dome, which beauty was emphasized by strange exquisite adornments reminiscent of translucent pieces of white foam. A fluffy green carpet, unlike any carpet, rug, or doormat ever knitted by dwarves, stretched under his feet, boasting rich floral and flowery patterns.
"The owner of this place must be a really wealthy person," the Dwarf thought, "I wonder what it might've cost him to purchase this amount of blue paint alone. Though I must admit, it's a hell of a job on the decor. The only thing probably is that that hole in the ceiling he got is way too big, like, instead of a neat and accurate trickle of light, like I have in my cave, for example, there's basically a flood,"
Everything around was so unusual and incomprehensible that the Dwarf lost the last bits of that internal balance he sought to recover, thus somewhat defeating the purpose of his, no doubts, adventurous endeavor. Additionally, a feeling of hunger had woken up inside him like a pesky rodent and gnawed mercilessly on his insides. As a result, the Dwarf's sightseeing pastime was gradually focusing on the matters of food and its possible procurement. At some point, the Dwarf became aware of a buzzing sound produced by some creatures flying merrily above the green carpet. The sound felt inexplicably pleasant and evoked the images of something sugary, slippery, sticky, and gluey.
"As far as I know," the Dwarf ruminated, "the moths feed on woolen things, like, woolen carpets, and stuff like that. At the same time, it doesn't look like this particular carpet is made of wool, neither these flying hairy hurly-burlies look like moths," The Dwarf's mind suddenly found a logical connection and held to it for the dear life. "And, well, since I'm myself burly and, for that matter, quite rotund and hairy and all that, it can be fairly concluded that I also can munch on those flowers (or whatever those are) and get vital calories, and precious hydrocarbons, and stuff; in any case, it won't hurt to try."
Thus reaching this mutually satisfying agreement with himself, the Dwarf began to fondle among the motley scattering of flowers, picking the ones looking the most innocent and enticing, shoveling them into his mouth, whereupon they underwent a vigorous attempt at chewing. Alas, the flowers didn't at all taste as delectable as the Dwarf might've imagined, neither were they capable of satiating his ever-growing appetite, and thus the rumble in his stomach kept increasing in volume, reaching the point where it became louder than all the noise and ruckus produced by the strafing bumblebees.
Still, there seemed to be no better alternative in sight, so the Dwarf kept chewing the flowers, thinking about the fallacious ways and abhorrent delusions of all the Dwarphilosophers whose scriptures he used to hold in utter and unwavering respect, perceiving them as a source of pure unadulterated wisdom. The concepts of Wealth, Love, and Power - the cornerstones of the world and the possessions, most desirable and sought after, by all the living and conscious creatures - faded in his mind. He wanted to spit out those wads of half-chewed weeds, which stuck in his teeth, right in the smug face of any philosopher - the author of this complacent rubbish and glaring lies - who would happen to come across.
"Phe main phurphose of fife if food," the Dwarf finally exclaimed and wagged his finger threateningly at the empty space before him. Then he spat with gusto, relieving his mouth from the bitter clump of chewed grass, and looked around. He was unaware that at that particular moment he was observed by some particular famished Fox, who was tracking him surreptitiously from the concealment of the nearby bushes. The Fox would definitely sign up under every word the Dwarf had just said.
Speaking of the Fox, in the Victorian era, he would probably have been described as something of a dandy or - using the modern cosmopolitan vernacular - metrosexual. In other words, he had a natural aristocratic air, and his glamorous red fur was absolutely gorgeous - something the Fox was incredibly proud of; also, as a matter of fact, it was an object of everybody's envy and admiration. Although, at that particular moment, as opposed to his usual impeccable appearance, the Fox looked quite messed up, and his normally lush and fluffy spectacular tail trailed pathetically in the dust, indicating the hard times.
The Fox surveyed the Dwarf for a couple of seconds, then decided not to waste any more time, took a quick aim and jumped. This didn't come off well either, as the Fox's tail got caught in the shrubbery, and what was initially devised as a graceful leap turned out to be a clumsy, ludicrous, and, frankly, quite embarrassing stumble. To add insult to injury, the prey didn't run away, as might've been expected under the normal circumstances, and instead was making an attempt at small talk.
"Hi!" said the Dwarf.
"Hi," the Fox replied, trying to suppress annoyance and look nonchalant, despite recent humiliation.
"I want to apologize that I stumbled into your magnificent cave, without prior notice or invitation," the Dwarf continued, assuming that he was talking to the owner of the premises, "by the way, do you maybe have a cup of tea or sandwich or something? I mean, I'm incredibly hungry at the moment, it would be great,"
"I beg your pardon?" The Fox said in astonishment. His jaw dropped, and he squatted on his hind legs, feeling completely bamboozled. The conversation somewhat got stuck.
At that moment, from somewhere afar came a strange sound that sounded like the clinking of glasses and clunking of dishes, and other kitchen utensils.
Although the Dwarf read before about the natural law, according to which everyone represented a link in the food chain where everybody consistently ate each other, it never occurred to him that one day he would find himself at the bottom of it.
Meanwhile, the third link of the notorious foodchain hurried over to join the brouhaha.
It appeared in the form of a bunch of hedgehogs marching down the hill and waving forks and knives in excitement. Two of them carried a dinner table, complete with white tablecloth and various kitchen utensils on its top. Spoons, dishes, saucers, and bowls bounced in rhythm with their steps, producing somewhat an ambiance of the dining car on a train.
Speaking of hedgehogs, among other things, they strictly followed the rules aimed at preserving their physical, as well as spiritual well-being. In fact, they were Amish. One of those rules required that the food they put on the table had to be as fresh as possible. To achieve that, instead of bringing the food to the table, (as the food could have accidentally gotten spoiled while being delivered) they brought the table to the food. Most often, the hedgehogs were content with their table standing among some vegetable patches and beanstalks, with a never-ending abundant supply of beans. Fed up with beans, they eventually felt the resolve to do some hunting.
While getting ready for the hunt, the hedgehogs performed a special ritual, including a bit of battle singing and a war dance, during which they passed in a circle a punchbowl filled with the concoction made - according to some ancient recipe - of toadstools. After this magic beverage was consumed, one could only feel sorry for any creature unfortunate enough to get in the line of sight of the hedgehogs turned berserk and seething in hunting paroxysm.
By some twist of fate that day, they've chosen the Fox as their prey, so before he could recover from his previous embarrassment and adopt his normal air of superiority and condescension, the Fox, once again, was distracted, this time seeing a group of slightly unhinged and utterly belligerent spiky runts running in his direction. With growing alarm, the Fox heard how the hedgehogs huffed, and puffed, and squabbled, without slowing their pace, about who of them deserved the best tidbits of the booty. As well as he saw viciously glimmering forks and knives aimed in his general direction. Eventually, after one of the forks passed an inch from the tip of his tail, the Fox woke from his stupor and sprinted away. It wasn't an easy task though - to outrun the hedgehogs galvanized by the toadstool vapors - so for a while, the procession kept running in circles, with the Fox in its head, and the Dwarf standing in the middle of the circle and looking at the proceedings in utter amazement.
"Why so much trouble, really? Like, I'm touched that you decided to organize this parade for me and all that, but what I actually wanted was a cup of tea and some snack, if possible," the Dwarf muttered, realizing with dismay that chances of catching something to eat were going slimmer and slimmer.
"And by the way, there are some really urgent matters I need to attend, so if you kindly excuse me," the Dwarf resumed his speech, trying to sound as polite as possible.
The best course of action, he thought, under the circumstances would be to return to his own cozy habitat and have a hearty meal for starters. Although, his plans now also included some more ambitious things, such as writing some sort of a big novel about his travails. Or something like that.
All of the Dwarf's essence, at that point, down to the deepest corners of his soul craved the recovery of his inner peace lost in the course of this sudden adventure. This thought obsessively pulsed in Dwarf's head swollen from being overloaded with so many new impressions. At the same time, his stomach shrunk into a small dot, apparently giving up hope of being filled with anything substantial. In fact, his head and his stomach like a pair of communicating vessels desperately sought to achieve some sort of balance that was somewhat out of reach at that moment.
The Dwarf looked around and saw a multitude of holes in the ground he hadn't noticed before. The holes varied in shape and size. Overall, the sight made the Dwarf uneasy, as he realized that he had no slightest idea, which particular hole he climbed out from.
"I wonder where all those holes lead to," the Dwarf wondered, "One cannot exclude the possibility that they might lead to even bigger caves with even less food. And there's no telling how long it would take to find the way home if I try to explore them one by one." The Dwarf sighed heavily, looking around in hopes to find some cues useful in his predicament. What he actually saw was a translucent mist that enveloped everything, gradually condensing into thick, impenetrable fog. The Dwarf still could see the blurry silhouettes of running hedgehogs, their truculent shouts now muffled by the white shroud, like something audible through the dense layer of cotton.
At some point, the fog concentrated at one particular spot, turning into boiling and swirling cloud, which then dissipated, revealing a tall scrawny old man with long white beard.
"Hi," the Dwarf said, too tired to be surprised by anything.
"Greetings, Dwarf!" The old man responded, "My name is Gandalf and I'd like to make you an offer you cannot refuse! It's gonna be profitable, by the way," at which point he was quite unceremoniously interrupted, as the Fox had transpired out of nowhere - this time swiftly sliding across the grass on his belly - pursued by the coterie of bloodthirsty hedgehogs.
Seeing that, the old man froze for a second in puzzlement, then he regained his composure and made an abrupt motion, swinging the staff he held in his hand towards the hedgehogs, and uttered a ferocious yell "Ya Hoo!"
After which, the latter started dancing - a masterful dance, impressive with its concerted and well-choreographed movements, accompanied by the shrill sound of bagpipes adroitly played by one of the hedgehogs.
Gandalf didn't remember when was the last time he used his staff to do magic. Sometimes he thought he forgot all those spells, or at least - when was he supposed to say what, and what would happen if he did?
In fact, he reached the point when he realized that, in most cases, magic wasn't necessary at all, so he just looked at things and situations from the icy mountaintop of his experience (somewhat emphasized by his prominent height) and chuckled inside, knowing better.
Sometimes though - as is normal for an old guy who's, in fact, one hell of a mischievous child in disguise - he felt like doing something spectacular, impressive, and entirely unexpected.
Which was the case at that point, with Gandalf assuming that his audience had had enough time to soak in and become sufficiently fascinated and mesmerized by his Dancing Hedgehogs show, he decided to try something else.
"Yippy Hey!" Gandalf exclaimed, using the least obscene combination of sounds he knew, and swung his staff, intending to sweep the tired hedgehogs off the stage. The ripple of sorcery though caught them sidewise, and the hedgehogs started to turn into hedgehog-shaped soap bubbles, becoming weightless and transparent, with iridescent waves of pastel hues sliding over their spherical bodies. Their paws, noses, and other protrusions stuck out comically, and they hopped in the air, producing cute mellow sounds.
Gandalf motioned with his staff, as though he was an orchestra conductor, noticing how the hedgehogs leaped to certain heights according to his movements, producing various musical notes. The sight looked amusing, and the melody that transpired was so cute that it probably could melt even the coldest of hearts. The Fox and the Dwarf - as they were not cold-hearted at all, and, on the contrary, quite tender and receptive - had forgotten about their hunger for the time being and contemplated the unfolding spectacle in fascination.
Meanwhile, Gandalf, intending to finish his symphony on a high note, raised his staff sharply, at which the hedgehogs swiftly ascended to the sky, properly performing the final chord, and, without waiting for applause, drifted above the treetops toward the horizon, carried by the wind.
All this could be thought of as a dream sequence, if not for the immaculately set table still standing forlornly at the edge of the meadow.
"Well, It's about time we stop all this tomfoolery!" Gandalf exclaimed giving the Dwarf and the Fox a look that immediately made them feel slightly embarrassed as if they were somehow personally responsible for all the tricks and gimmicks performed on the hapless hedgehogs.
To emphasize his point, Gandalf swung his stuff and smashed it forcefully into the ground. After which he winced and squirmed for a bit, realizing too late what kind of unpredictable magical events it might trigger. After a while, seeing that nothing especially terrifying had come about, Gandalf regained his composure and regarded his new acquaintances with an expression of mild condescension pertaining to an entity in possession of the superior wisdom. Then he got right down to business.
"I speak to you, oh, venerable Dwarf," Gandalf spoke, "As I regard you being the wisest sentient being among many - the bearer of the vast knowledge and unsurpassed experience of your kin - the great underground civilization of Dwarves, including all its previous generations."
At that point, the Dwarf felt a prickle of doubt, as he wondered whether he really fitted the image drawn by all those lofty accolades, but then his pride prevailed, and he thought "like, why not?"
"It's well known that only dwarves hold the secrets of great treasures concealed in the depths of Earth - so deep, in fact, they are that not a single beam of sunlight ever found its way down there." Gandalf continued, "But there is one special place not known even to dwarves. It's a hidden place - a treasury that belongs to the Master of Emerald Mountain - a mighty and formidable dragon." Gandalf paused for a bit trying to recall what his initial point was.
"And, yes, I'd like to propose you to be my companion, and partner, and brother in arms on this quest to discover and appropriate this treasure," finished Gandalf.
"Sounds like a reasonable idea to me," the Dwarf admitted.
"As a matter of fact, It's a brilliant idea, no doubts about that, and it was, in fact, me who came up with it in the first place, completely on my own, which kinda proves the point,"
Gandalf was well aware of the nuances of dwarves' inner workings, particularly those ensuring with certainty that no self-respecting dwarf would pass such an opportunity.
The Dwarf remembered his cave once again, feeling something that he had, at first, mistaken for another onslaught of hunger, (only to realize afterwards that the sensation came not from his now habitually empty stomach, but rather from someplace in the vicinity of his heart) thus familiarizing himself with the concept of nostalgia.
Gandalf thought about the Emerald Mountain, without paying much regard to gold and precious gems. There was a completely different thing that interested him.
As a matter of fact, Gandalf was actually a very powerful wizard, although at that particular moment, his mind was wandering and distracted, which might've been caused by abrupt weather changes, or maybe he was just too preoccupied with his secret ideas. Anyway, whatever it was, Gandalf's magic staff had inadvertently managed to make up for that, and pretty soon the Fox's sensitive nose twitched involuntarily, perceiving some subtle changes in the atmosphere. Having the will of its own, his nose pulled the Fox toward a delicious smell coming from somewhere nearby. His feet, which also suddenly acquired independent will and self-awareness, sprinted in the same direction. The Dwarf - who experienced a similar sensation and dribbled - followed. The maddening fragrance, hinting at something utterly delectable, had an effect of a heavy hammer on the starving couple, stripping them of remnants of common sense and rational thinking.
What actually happened was this: Gandalf's staff still had its settings tuned in on the hedgehogs, and since the immediate target wasn't anywhere within easy reach at that point, the magic staff slightly adjusted its programming, switching to something most closely related to the hedgehogs, which happened to be their dinner table. By some miracle, the table was now filled with dishes, morsels, and delicacies - the same ones the hedgehogs dined on the last time they had their glorious feast. And gee, there could be no doubt about their cooking proficiency and skill, as all the dishes - from salads and appetizers to the most exquisite and intricate desserts - were made of beans.
Skipping formalities, the Fox and the Dwarf greedily gobbled the food, which marvelous flavor matched its tantalizing smell. Gandalf, who at first assumed the role of a hospitable host and majordomo, at some point gave in to the temptation and joined in that brutal celebration of gluttony. At first, the three of them just chewed in silence, with vigor and concentration, without saying anything to each other, their minds wandering.
The Dwarf had second thoughts about his decision to get himself involved in this dubious and crazy enterprise. Misgivings inundated and tormented him. In fact, what he wanted the most was to go home, but his pride kept him from admitting it. It would be pretty embarrassing, indeed. Gandalf's thoughts were more down to earth and pragmatic - he wondered if the beans would give him diarrhea. The Fox thought about the magic staff and couldn't get rid of a weird idea - what if that magic, instead of conjuring up the things identical to those the hedgehogs ate yesterday, would have make materialize what they planned to eat TODAY.
Those who think that food only serves the purpose of satiating the hunger (or replenishing exhausted stores of energy or whatever) are missing the point. Any meal - whether it's a wild feast of Vikings, a solemn English breakfast, or the Japanese tea ceremony - is not just about the fulfillment of our bodily needs. It's also a sort of conquest over the environment. For example, what used to be outside ends up being inside. And after a hearty meal, one, who might've felt like a fish out of water before, experiences a sensation of returning to his natural habitat.
The Dwarf, who at that point was full enough, now felt like a fish in its natural habitat, or to be precise, like a carp in the presence of a pike. He sat on the ground, hugging his knees and occasionally cast cautious glances at Gandalf, who, despite his height, managed to settle comfortably near the low hedgehogs' table in the lotus position and looked fabulous. The Fox, although he fully appreciated the deliciousness of beans - the staple of the hedgehog cuisine, already thought about some sort of a dessert - like, a plump sassy mouse would be superb. He wasn't in a hurry to leave though. Like most of his kind, he had keen intelligence and couldn't just take off, without learning first what this was all about. The Fox laid on his side contentedly, supporting his chin with his paw, fluffing up his tail, and picking teeth with one of his sharp elegant claws. Then he plucked a chamomile and started twirling it in front of his nose, pretending that this unassuming flower was the most exciting thing in the world, at that moment.
Finally, Gandalf cleared his throat and opened his mouth to say something, but was immediately compelled to close it, before he had a chance to utter a sound.
The battle of wasps and ants
It's well known that dwarves always possessed distinctively big noses. So when the dinner table was assaulted by a swarm of colored in black and yellow flying monsters, each of those monsters was the size of an average dwarf's nose. Attracted by the irresistible smell of hedgehog cuisine, giant wasps swooped down, and, ignoring all the table manners, proceeded with their conquest. With a deafening crunching sound, their massive jaws crushed everything that happened to be in the way, including the wooden table itself.
Three of the biggest and meanest-looking wasps made threatening circles in front of the Dwarf mesmerized by their sinister ballet. The Dwarf knew (from books, apparently) that the best strategy in such situation is to stay still, but his rationality, at that point, fought a losing battle with his instincts. (No wonder, the instincts are older and more powerful.) So eventually, finding himself in the crosshairs of half a dozen vicious black eyes, the Dwarf panicked and started flailing around wildly. Now hundreds of virulent black stares turned at him, and hundreds of formidable mandibles stopped chewing for a second and froze menacingly.
By lucky coincidence, another bunch of actors was also taking the stage. The magic fragrance of hedgehog's cooking attracted a small army of ants, who at that moment - unnoticed by anybody else - climbed the table legs. So the split second before the wasps - ready to subject the Dwarf to his ultimate punishment - could spring into action, the ants, in turn, attacked the wasps.
Taking advantage of the ensuing chaos, Gandalf, and the Dwarf scuttled away from the table and hid in the nearby tussock of tall grass, where they were shortly joined by Fox. Since their initial fright was over, they were overcome by the excitement of the unfolding spectacle. "Bread and Circuses," something that they would exclaim, at that point. If they were ancient Romans, of course.
Although the ants were smaller than wasps, they had an advantage of speed, maneuverability, and numbers. While the striped giants wobbled around clumsily, trying to puncture the adversary with their stings and hitting instead anything but, the ants successfully shot them down, using jets of acid - narrow, precisely positioned, and capable of hitting the wasps in flight. It didn't take them long to secure an easy victory, after which they swiftly carried away the remaining food (as well as fallen in battle wasps also turned into food) and eventually disappeared, leaving the dinner table pristinely clean.
When the excitement of the moment gradually simmered down, Gandalf, the Fox, and the Dwarf simultaneously felt an urge to confer and discuss the prospects of their enterprise.
When you swim in a river and an unexpected current suddenly catches you, carrying you toward the boiling whirlpool. What would you do? Some would panic or freeze, I guess. Not the Dwarf though. At that point, he started to feel like he was a character in a novel, which he planned to write, anticipating how he would convey to paper one of the brightest pages of Dwarfish history - the chronicle, where he was also going to be the protagonist. In his imagination, he dipped a quill in ink, suspending it for a second over a pristinely white and clear sheet of paper... then he considered a problem: where all this was supposed to be? Home, with its comfort, books, quill pens, paper, and ink bottles, for the time being, disappeared somewhere in the haze of the past. The future looked obscure and convoluted, and the possible coming back seemed like something remote and uncertain.
Also, the Dwarf had his doubts, regarding the real purpose of the proposed adventure. Sure, the Dwarves are passionate about hidden treasures, gold, precious gems, and stuff. "But," the Dwarf thought, "what's in it for Gandalf?" It seemed like he might've had his own hidden agenda. Withholding crucial information is not a lie, and Gandalf definitely did withhold something important - the Dwarf intuitively felt it. He hesitated, thinking of ways to refuse the offer politely, (so he could focus on the business of finding that hole in the ground, through which he climbed into this strange world.) Although... a book. A book filled to the brim with adventures, dangers, and hidden treasures - it could become a bestseller among Dwarves. (At least, those who actually read books)
The Dwarf noticed some subtle and elusive but, at the same time, persistent changes in his surroundings. The color of greenery took on some deep and sparkling emerald hues. The air smelled of fresh water mixed with the tender fragrance of grass and wet soil. The nonchalant and chaotic chirping of birds transformed into something more meaningful - some beautiful and sensual melody.
A sudden revelation struck the Dwarf. The hole in the ceiling - the one letting the light in - was moving, and now it slowly descended toward the horizon, and the ritzy azure above was dissolving, replaced by the expensive, luxurious purple.
The secret of the Emerald Mountain.
The official science in its stubborn denial of anything unusual sometimes reminds a dog barking up the wrong tree, "Oh, a bizarre phantom and a figment of delirious canine fever, go away and stop wreaking havoc, regarding the order of things in this perimeter under my control. You don't, in fact, exist, and never did, and never will, actum ut supra." Magic doesn't do anything to prove its significance or even the fact that it exists. It's just that its sphere of influence is vaster than that of a tree.
Gandalf had seen a lot during his life and it made his intuition sharp. He clearly saw Dwarf's misgivings and internal struggles, and he knew that the Fox was something different from the image he tried to project, letting everybody perceive him in a certain way.
Thinking of this, Gandalf took a casual look around and started talking with emphasis,
"Powerful wizards like me don't normally reveal their secrets, but now I'll make an exception and tell you something about the real goal of our enterprise. After all, its success will partly rely on you. In seven days, traveling in that direction - where you can see the first rays of the sun illuminating the sky in the morning - we'll reach a mountain ridge. The mountain slopes are overgrown with beautiful emerald-colored trees. Among them, gurgling foamy streams of mountain rivers violently rush downwards, and the riverbeds are lined in gold ingots.
At the top of the highest mountain stands a temple. Somewhere inside it, a mysterious artifact is hidden - the arrow of gold. One, holding it in his hands, can control and reverse the time. Although It's not that simple. In fact, many people, who thought that their lives had taken a wrong turn at some point, climbed that mountain, trying to use the arrow to change their past. Like, they thought they could capture that presumably unique and only chance, which presumably could make their lives what they wanted them to be, and, instead, so absurdly slipped from their hands. So, as a result, they ended up being kinda disappointed and stuff.
Till this point though, everybody who touched the arrow had turned into crystals. You will see the scattering of those precious gems - rubies, diamonds, sapphires, emeralds - at the bottom of the mountain. Those are folks who came there before. It turned out, that there had to be something else, like, that missed chance should've been indeed genuine and unique. Or something like that. Which in most cases turned out not to be the case.
Nevertheless, the rumors say that now the Black Witcher - Gridfreed - is planning to try his luck with the arrow. And something tells me that in this case, it may really work, and everything will end up thoroughly messed up. Don't ask me how I know this; it doesn't matter.
So, anyway, as it turns out, only the White Witcher, which happens to be me, can take a stand against the Black Witcher, which happens to be Gridfreed, so this is actually the main plotline of this adventure we are going to undertake."
Meanwhile, the evening sun approached the horizon. The Dwarf looked in fascination at the scarlet disk, which kept going down slowly, resolutely. The Gandalf's voice reverberated deeply in his subconsciousness, and, at the same time, he thought about running toward that hole in the sky radiating raspberry colored light, as if it was the only chance to take a peek beyond the reality contained within the dome of this huge cavern, and it was somewhat important, for some inexplicable reason.
Being polite the Dwarf couldn't turn away and leave the old man while he was talking, so he took several deep breaths to calm down and continued observing the scenery unfolding before him. It was a sight to behold.
A gauze of mist trailed and slithered over the plains, condensing into clouds, which transformed into drops of dew, each reflecting on its sparkling surface the infinity of space. It was getting colder. The Fox curled up in a ball, dug his nose into his warm furry tail and went to sleep. The Dwarf - tired of new impressions and freezing - felt jealous since he didn't have anything like that tail, something that he could use to make himself comfortable. He didn't forget though that they were in the company of a Wizard, and, although Gandalf didn't make him to magically grow fur, he built a fire, installed a waterproof tent in the middle of the clearing, and then with a mysterious smile pulled out a miniature chest from his bag. The chest contained an old silver flask and three glasses. Maybe, the elixir in the flask was magical, maybe not, in any case, afterward, the Dwarf, lying in the tent and observing the moon and the stars visible through a slit in the folds, didn't think of them as bright holes in the black velvet fabric of a huge cavern. He saw the dizzying infinite height of empty space above. Then the world turned upside down, and the Dwarf clasped the clumps of grass to keep from falling into the unfolding abyss.