Beyond the Shire, originally uploaded by Thorsten Becker.
“You really should get some rest,” Olim encouraged his friend Birit.
“Just… just a little while longer, just a little while,” Birit replied, her voice quivering. She was visibly distressed.
“Believe me, I know how you feel. But we will need to get up early tomorrow and it’ll be a long journey ’till we’ll reach Hereals Refuge.”
“This has always been my favorite place, right here at the edge of Terrivil’s bog. I like the smell, that bitter, musty smell,” Birit said closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Olim put his arm around Birit as he sat down next to her, closed his eyes and laid his head against her’s.
“I know Birit, I will miss it all terribly. But if we’d stay we’re doomed. The Grolls don’t take prisoners, they just burn everything to the ground and devour any creature unfortunate enough to cross their path,” Olim said, battling to keep his voice firm and strong.
“They will destroy it, won’t they? All of it. They will just turn it into ashes and poison the land with their stench and their abominable machines. Oh, I can’t stand the thought of all this being gone. It makes me so sad, but also so angry. I wish we could fight them,” Birit replied, clutching her fists and gritting her teeth.
“So do I, but we’re just country folks, we’re Pippits, we’re little and of no match. I heard they’ve send word to the Mehorin but their forces have been severely decimated, they are barely able to hold their own cities. If only the stories of old Keppin were more than just fairy tales. Remember the one about the Sha’a'tars, the warriors of the dream realm who defeated the mighty dragon Trublavor in his sleep? They would show those Grolls, oh yes, they would.” Olim stood up now punching the air and kicking a stone into the bog.
“Ah, that would be wonderful, wouldn’t it? Imagine we fall asleep tonight and we just torment the dreams of the Grolls and by tomorrow morning they descend upon each other,” Birit jumped up, her eyes glowing, “that would be marvelous. Do you think, maybe, it could happen? Maybe there is a way?”
“Well, probably not but… you never know. Come. Let’s try to get some rest. And who knows…”
So Birit and Olim, holding hands, went back down to the village to make final preparations for their departure in the morning. And as all the lights on the streets were doused and a crimson moon turned the sky deep red an unusually thick fog began to rise from all the bogs, creeping across the fields and through the streets. Since it was a warm and humid night most of the Pippits had left their windows open and the fog crept up and through and into every house. Its oddly sweet odor was comforting and soothing to all those still tossing and turning, trying to find some sleep. That night each and everyone of them dreamt of meeting fabled warriors of old, of battle cries and strange machines, of imposing and dreadful Grolls and of strange lights beaming down from the sky. They were good dreams, dreams of victory and hope. And while the battles raged in their heads misty figures stood by their bedsides.
Beyond the shire, © Thorsten Becker
