The Star Stone

By Greg Jones

Cast into the great ice prisons of Norderakk and Kalnerakk in the remote regions of the north and south, two immortals from ancient times are becoming free at last as their bonds of ice begin to melt. Long ago corrupted by power, they were locked away deep in the icy and remote regions of the world by the Twelve, and now they seek their revenge–or justice as they see it.

Meanwhile, in the quiet coastal town of Cornburn, an obscure circle of stone—the Twelve—stands overlooking the sea just as it has for millennia. Yet it is far, far more than appears to the eye, and in that, it is not alone. A young native of this sleepy town, Thengolis, thirsts for the excitement of travel, an unusual desire in his day. An unexpected encounter with a travelling beer merchant, Jangel Lampstone, gives him just the impetus he needs to set off on an adventure of epic proportions and undertake a stupendous mission, one it seems that he was destined to accept.

He must traverse sea and land to recover the long lost Theleia Stone, a mysterious gemstone of astronomical power which regulates the power of the Twelve when positioned right in the centre of the circle of stone where it belongs. Only with its recovery can the Twelve once again harness their power to thwart the onset of a second Shadow Age more terrible than the first.

This is the first book in the epic Sage of the Star Stone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Greg Jones
• Release date: Feb 18, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005066000

Greg Jones

Greg Jones is an Episcopal priest in Raleigh, North Carolina. His scholarly work includes the book Beyond Da Vinci (Seabury Books, 2004), On the Priesthood (Anglican Theological Review), and a number of articles and essays. He plays bass in the indie-rock band Balsa Gliders, whose fourth studio album is soon to be released. Their third album, Danceable in Victor, is available on iTunes.

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cover-image, The Star Stone I Smashwords emended

Greg Jones

The Star Stone

Copyright © 2021 Steven Gregory Jones

All rights reserved

Second Edition 2022

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.



Chapter 1

A Meeting of Minds

Chapter 2

The Visitation

Chapter 3

Arrangements

Chapter 4

A Visitor in the Night

Chapter 5

Departure

Chapter 6

Beyond Cornburn

Chapter 7

Fearful Encounters

Chapter 8

Shadowold

Chapter 9

Learning to Listen

Chapter 10

Cavnor

Chapter 11

Consternation in Cavnor

Chapter 14

The Beast in the Inn

Chapter 15

Onwards

Chapter 16

Snow Covered Plains and Warm Inns

Chapter 17

A Night in the Caravan

Chapter 18

The Ride to Katoshire

Chapter 19

Voices in the Night

Chapter 20

Of Maps and Scrolls

Chapter 21

Jangel’s Advance into the Forest

Chapter 22

The Stronghold of Gabathar: Battle

Chapter 23

Help from the Unexpected

Chapter 24

Explanations in the Great Hall

APPENDIX I

THE STAR STONE

BOOK I OF THE SAGA OF THE STAR STONE

Chapter 1     

A Meeting of Minds

‘ You are right to be afraid, ’ said the thing cloaked in black.

Thengolis opened his eyes, his left palm still upon the ancient megalith. Standing just a few yards in front of him, outside the stone circle, was something resembling, in shape at least, a man. Thin, tall, and cloaked in a shimmering fabric as black as night it was. But this was no man. No man could only be perceived out of the corner of the eye. No man vanished from sight when you looked directly upon him.

'I can feel your fear,' it said, devoid of any warmth. 'Fear is perfectly normal, particularly when you're about to lose your life.' Thengolis's eyes darted from right to left, unable to get a fix on the source of these menacing utterances. 'I could take your life with a mere thought,' it said. 'Yes, just a thought, just as I have with so many of your race. Just as I have done for many, many thousands of years.'

'Who are you?' said Thengolis, barely able to project the words. He lifted his hand from the megalith and instinctively moved deeper inside the stone circle—deeper inside where he felt a sense of protection, though he did not know why.

'Do you really want to know what I am? You already know. Not by name, perhaps. But you know.'

At the edge of his vision, he saw it move closer. It stopped outside the threshold of the circle of stone. The air seemed to ripple, how it sometimes does on a hot day when the ground is heated. This was not a hot day, though. It was a cold winter's day. It was as if something were present keeping that thing out—an invisible dome.

It came no closer. He tried to fix his gaze upon it once again, but every time he did, he saw straight through it to the shore down below the cliff where the waves of the great Adrax dashed against the rocks. He saw the grass blowing this way and that upon the clifftop in the autumnal wind, but he still could not see the thing that was talking. When he looked away, once again he perceived it out the corner of his eye, standing there, tall, black, menacing in what at first appeared to be a shimmering black cloak, so dark it was like the very substance of shadow, though it was impossible to give detail to anything about the creature for sure.

'What is it you want with me?' Thengolis asked with a quiver in his voice.

'I've seen inside your mind,' it said. 'Yes, deep inside. I've seen the anguish, the fear, the pleasure, all the same. I've seen it all. I know why you come here day after day. I've seen you here every day. Do you realise that, human? Every single accursed day for years I've been watching. I know, too, that you long to see places beyond here, places in the far reaches of the world. ’

As it spoke, sometimes its voice took on the quality as of many voices speaking in ominous unison.

'I know, too, what you see,' it continued, speaking to its potential victim now upon the ground in the centre of the stone circle, pushed there as if by some invisible force. 'I know what you see when you're here, alone. I know.'

He had never told anyone, neither about his overpowering yearnings to leave this place nor about the visions. But then there was one person he had told about the things he saw in his mind's eye when he was in the stone circle, but he was confident he wouldn't have told anyone, he felt certain of it.

'Have I not told you,' said the thing, reading his thoughts, 'I can see inside your mind. It is as easy for me as hearing the words that come from your very mouth.'

The thing moved around the perimeter of the circle, still never entering, but moving slowly around the invisible circumference.

Thengolis knew what to do. He knew as if by some instinct what he needed to do to make this vile thing vanish into the void from which it came. He got to his feet and moved back towards the megalith he had been touching when the thing arrived, even though it meant his moving towards the creature upon which he could not fix his gaze. He reached out his palm and touched the stone placing his hand in a curious recess common to all the stones, big enough to insert a hand.

'You don't expect them to help, do you?' it snarled. 'They can't. They have no power against me. Not anymore.'

Despite its scornful tone, it moved no closer. The shimmering invisible dome surrounding the stone circle kept it at bay.

He closed his eyes while his hand was in the small recess of the megalith. He felt the life force within the stone, just as he always did when he placed his hand there, like a distant heartbeat. It was perhaps stronger than before.

'They have no power to help you,' it said, speaking as with a thousand voices at once. 'They will kill you. Mark my words, they will kill you, one day. Remember those words,' it snarled.

He kept his eyes closed resisting every temptation to open them. It seemed in those terrifying moments that it had drawn closer, and had stepped over the threshold. For a second he dared himself to minutely open his eyes. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw that it remained as before, outside the circle. He shut his eyes, and the visions began.

Images of mellow reddish skies tinged with turquoise. Trees taller and wider than any he'd seen in this world, with leaves big enough to float down a river in boat fashion if they were to fall upon the water beneath, even as some of them did as he looked on—as he looked on through his inner eye.

As the images filled his mind, the thing still tried to pull Thengolis away. 'Why do you waste your time upon that which is not real?' it said. He could feel the thing trying to enter his mind and steer his thoughts into dark places where no man ought to go. 'They will kill you,' it said, adopting a mock tone of concern. He would not listen. 'They only want to destroy you in that accursed place,' it said.

The images continued in his mind. They were unlike those of dreams. These were real.

To his relief, the sinister voice grew quieter and quieter as new visions entered his mind, bathing him in a comforting light. What appeared to be stars materialised before him. Not like the view of stars a man might see when looking up into the night sky. He saw them composed of many shimmering colours.

They flashed and sparkled before him, like a million gemstones caught in sunlight. Lustrous hues of blue, red, orange, yellow, and colours for which there were no names, all danced and swirled before him.

Unlike the randomly arranged stars in the night sky, these were arranged into vast spirals, rotating and moving around him. He flew at speed between and around them, but he could not feel his body for his body was as the very stuff of light itself. Weightless, he soared through the dark and empty spaces between stars. As he flew he saw not only multicoloured spirals, but spirals of spirals dancing around each other in a beauty like nothing he had seen before on earth. And all was as real as anything in the waking world, more real.

Without even being aware of it, the sinister voice was no more. He kept his eyes closed to continue in that blissful world dramatised in his own mind.

Finally, his eyes opened as if awakening from a deep sleep. When once he had come to his senses, he saw that the thing had gone. There was neither trace of its presence nor of its even having been there at all. Just a stillness and a sense of calm, just the wind that stirred the innumerable blades of grass all around, and just the everlasting whispers of the sea as he sat there upon the grass in the midst of the stone circle contemplating what had just happened.

Suddenly, he became aware of an entirely different sound, a friendly sound. It was coming from just over the brow of the hill. It was the clippety-clop of a horse and caravan drawing closer.

He turned his gaze back momentarily to where the thing had been standing. Now there was nothing but the grass swaying in the cold wind. It had vanished without trace and yet that ominous voice echoed somewhat in the halls of his mind.

Turning his attention now to the new sound, two horses, a rider, and a caravan became visible over the brow of the nearby hill, and Thengolis at once recognised the driver who wore a distinctive broad brimmed felt hat that was difficult to distinguish between dark green and black. Whatever its colour, it was keeping the rain that had just begun to fall off the ruddy bearded face that resided beneath it. The caravan the two faithful horses pulled was of the kind the fabled travelling people of the north might use to roam around from place to place and in which they could comfortably live.

He often reflected of late on how such a roaming lifestyle would suit him perfectly. Increasingly, he had been growing restless with life in Cornburn and had developed what in other times would have been called itchy feet, but the phrase had largely fallen into disuse now as the condition was so rare.

‘ Ah, good morning young, Thengol! ’ The deep jovial voice emanated from the hat wearing rider of the caravan.

‘ Good morning, Jangel, ’ said Thengolis not quite as loudly.

‘ I thought it was you standing there. Don ’ t get many folk just standing round here. Too busy doing things, they are. ’

The reassuring sight of Jangel Lampstone came as a welcome contrast to the encounter with the shadow creature of moments ago. There was an instinct inside him that told him to say nothing of what had just happened. Not yet.

‘ It ’ s been a while, Jangel. Months and months probably. Where have you been? To some far distant places no doubt, ’ he said in a somewhat tremulous voice still recovering from the unnerving encounter moments ago.

‘ Oh, here and there and around and about, if you catch the sense of me. ’ He knew what he meant. ‘ Thengolis, ’ he said, getting straight to the point without further preamble. ‘ I ’ m very glad I have seen you today. In fact it ’ s almost as if I were meant to see you here and now, ’ he said.

‘ Well...I ’ m glad to see you too, ’ which was perfectly true, but it didn ’ t carry the same force of sincerity that Jangel ’ s exclamation had.

‘ Indeed? Well that ’ s a good thing, ’ he said with narrowing eyes considering him intently.

‘ You see, I ’ m glad to see you today because I want to arrange a meeting to see you again tomorrow. ’

‘ Tomorrow? ’ Thengolis said, turning his head slightly as if to say tell me more.

‘ Yes indeed. But on second thoughts, it may be even better if we were to meet tonight. Yes, tonight would be best, ’ he said to himself as if this were a superior plan. ‘ It's rather important, Thengol, ’ he added.

‘ Important? Tonight? ’

‘ Yes, tonight. And yes, it is, as I say, rather important. ’

‘ I see. Well...maybe. I don ’ t think I ’ m doing anything else, ’ he said, knowing full well he wasn ’ t doing anything at all but including the fictitious possibility to get himself out of it if later he didn ’ t particularly feel like it.

'I said it's important, but think of it as exciting. Yes, I have something exciting to tell you. That would be the best way for you to think of it. Think of it as exciting.'

'Well, I suppose...if you put it that way, then maybe I had better come and see you then.'

'Good man,' said the slightly bedraggled Jangel. ‘ Besides, I have a delivery of my finest beer to make at the Heron ’ s Nest. I thought maybe you could meet me there this evening to discuss the matter in hand and to, of course, sample a fine drop of ale. ’

‘ Well, okay, I suppose,' he said with a slight pit in his stomach at Jangel ’ s insistence on the topic he wanted to talk to him about being so important. 'I haven't been up to the old Heron in a good while. It would be a nice little trip out—yes, why not? I'll be there. And if you've got a delivery of your finest, that ’ s all the more good reason,' he said, quite happy with himself for being so resolute for a change.

Regardless of the mysterious matters Jangel wanted to talk to him about, he always enjoyed talking to Jangel Lampstone about anything as he was rather different to the ordinary folk of Cornburn, particularly because he had travelled so far and wide and was never content to stay in one particular place too long. ‘ Man is not a tree with roots in the ground, ’ he would say to people who objected to his roving lifestyle. ‘ No, his roots are his legs and feet, and they ’ re meant for moving and walking, ’ he would say. This was usually greeted by silence on the part of the ordinary folk who would have nothing to say in retort but who would then go and say something rather nasty about him behind his back.

Thengolis liked mostly to hear about places Jangel travelled to far away from home, particularly about his travels far up in the northern lands which held a particular fascination for him though he didn ’ t know why. Jangel was also the only person interested in Thengolis ’ s experiences with the twelve standing stones and was, in fact, the only person he had told about the visions he frequently experienced when standing in the midst of them. In fact, now he came to think about it, Jangel had seemed very keen last time to hear more and more about those visions and he wondered if his proposed meeting at the Heron ’ s Nest tonight might be something related to it.   

When Jangel spoke about some of the places he ’ d visited, it ignited some powerful desire inside Thengolis to travel and see those places and landscapes far away with his very own eyes instead of merely experiencing them through someone else ’ s words.

Yes, one of these days, he mused, he would go and explore those wild places of the world with the wind in his hair and just keep moving into the wide-open spaces without ever stopping. Maybe he would never come back. He just needed a little encouragement to get going and off he would go, just one good reason, and his feet would take him far beyond this place.

‘ I look forward to seeing you tonight then, ’ said Jangel as the two horses neighed as if to say the same thing. ‘ Around eight o ’ clock, the Heron ’ s Nest. See you there. ’

With that Jangel gently tapped the side of one of his two horses and off he went down the lane and out of sight to only he knows where.

As he drove away, Jangel felt reassured that his meeting with Thengolis just now was not entirely without design. In fact he was certain of it and the matter was clearly more urgent than even he had thought. The glimpse he had caught of that creature just before it vanished at the moment his caravan had wheeled over the hill was all that was necessary to confirm to him that the time to tell Thengolis the truth, or at least a part of it, had at last arrived.

Although Jangel had caught a glimpse of the phantom figure, albeit out of the corner of his eye, what he hadn ’ t seen was that there was a third person within the scene that had witnessed it all too. This third figure, after making quite sure Jangel had gone and all else too, appeared from behind a tree where she had hidden for an hour or more and seen the whole affair. This lone and somewhat svelte figure wandered off up the muddy path westward along the clifftop and made preparations of her own.

***

The evening swiftly came around and Thengolis made his way up the winding and muddy path towards the Heron ’ s Nest perched high up on the hill where it overlooked the sea. Apart from a gentle breeze and the sound of the ocean, all that he heard was the intermittent twitter of a bird here and there expressing itself jubilantly as the sun set the sky ablaze over the horizon.

As he walked enjoying these wholesome and natural sounds along with the westering sun, a compulsion made him turn around. He turned and squinted and sheltered his eyes with his palm from the sun ’ s dwindling rays so he could more readily discern what lay beyond the ridge of the cliff with its myriad of hues and colours, and there, down on the shingle shore, maybe half a mile or more away, stood a solitary figure. In a way it only appeared in outline, the kind of thing you see when your gaze isn't directly focused upon it but that is undeniable for all that. As hard as it was to fix the eye upon the thing, it was undeniably there. Its presence made a chill run down his spine.

It was a human outline of sorts, shrouded it seemed, in a cloak of shimmering black. It did nothing but it seemed to project a kind of physical probe through space, like skeletal fingers reaching outward towards him. Those invisible feelers entered right into some deep place within him and made the hairs on the back of his neck behave strangely as if standing on end. There was little doubt that whatever had appeared to him that very morning now stood regarding him once more, albeit at some distance.

The whole drama throughout the day, the morning encounter, its reappearance along the shore, it had all been so unnerving that it seemed his mind had devised a mechanism that enabled him to cope with it by convincing him that it had taken place in his imagination. There was a part of him, though, that didn ’ t accept that. His whole innermost being was split in two, yet the stronger part knew the thing of shadow was real and it had not been the mere workings of his imagination.

He forced himself to turn around and continue his walk, even if it was more briskly than before. He trudged up the muddy incline and tried with little success to dismiss what he'd seen. In the midst of his efforts, he felt it looking at him even now.

A further unsettling thought occurred. It concerned the return journey he would have to make later in the hours of darkness. If at all possible, he would travel with Mr Lampstone or go another way entirely. But such thoughts would have to wait and so he made every effort to push them aside, but they persisted still.

At last, the comforting view of the Heron ’ s Nest appeared. It stood as an oddity on the landscape and was the form of a large old country house that had stood there for at least two centuries, maybe more. Its brickwork and window frames had been battered over the years by the driving winds blown in across the mighty Adrax, winds from who knows where, which had eroded it giving it a truly weathered look and a battered appearance that somehow dignified the old inn with the sense that it had thoroughly earned the right to stand just where it was and would perhaps do so forevermore. But it would crumble one day, Thengolis mused, as all things do.

The warm yellow light illuminated the window panes, in some places obscured by condensation produced by the exhaling of those who sheltered inside, and the internal light, sent out an inviting glow at just that time of day when the light was diminishing outside and as the temperature began to fall to its nocturnal coolness.

Inside, the silhouettes and shadows of those in its interior were imbued with life by their distinct movements, predominantly involving the lifting of flagons and tankards to thirsty lips followed in some cases by tobacco pipes which glowed just a little within the dimly lit inn.

He hoped that one of those shadows and silhouettes belonged to his friend Mr Lampstone, as the thought of going in alone and being pounced upon and asked this question and that as to how he was fairing, what he was doing with himself these days and so on, didn ’ t particularly appeal to him right now. He knew that what they were often doing was really looking for something to gossip to others about and criticise once the person's back was turned. He had seen it too often.

The folk of Cornburn, harmless as they were, were well known for gossip and to talk endlessly about the slightest unverifiable happening. They were also known for wild exaggeration. He made up his mind that if Jangel wasn ’ t there, he would just sit quietly and wait. But personal space wasn ’ t entirely easy in the Heron ’ s Nest and questions were well-nigh inevitable. Still, he would brave it.

A few faces turned as he entered and walked slowly across the flagstones to the serving area. He kept his gaze straight ahead and ordered a flagon of ale. He looked around for Jangel but there was no sign of him.

‘ Not seen you for a long time, ’ came a voice a few spaces across the well worn wooden serving top.

‘ No, maybe you haven ’ t, ’ Thengolis replied as he handed over a few coins for his flagon of ale and raised it to the speaker. He considered walking away but thought better of it. He didn ’ t want to look churlish, so he walked over to the lone figure who had spoken perched upon a rickety wooden stool before the serving area.

‘ Put a bit of weight on I think, young Thengol. So, what you been up to then, lad? ’ said the patron who was a leathery faced old man with wisps of white hair that just fell wherever the slightest breeze decided it ought to or depending upon how he angled his head. Sometimes the wisps of hair would come dangerously close to a candle that was lit on the serving area and several times as Thenglolis stood there he had to wonder what it was that prevented his hair going up in flames.

‘ I ’ ve been a little busy with things, you know, this and that, ’ said Thengolis, keeping his comments general.

‘ I see, ’ said the leathery faced old man, lifting his flagon up to his lips for a dramatic gulp of ale. ‘ Well, that ’ s not what I heard. ’

This was exactly the kind of intrusiveness Thengolis wanted to avoid. For all his feelings of annoyance, though, he found himself feigning politeness. He was good at that, and it annoyed him. Why couldn ’ t he be more honest with people, he thought?

‘ Really, what have you heard if you don ’ t mind me asking? ’

‘ No, I don ’ t mind you asking, ’ he said, taking another swig out of the flagon and gesturing to the serving girl for another and leaving Thengolis deliberately in suspense.

‘ So, what have you heard? ’ he repeated, annoyed with himself that he had repeated the question as it would have been the ideal moment to politely leave for some quieter spot in the inn where he could sit alone for a while until Jangel arrived.

‘ Well, ‘ tis said you ’ ve been seen many times, going for walks early of every morning—’

‘ Well, what of it? ’ said Thengolis, interrupting and for a moment losing his polite exterior more than he realised.

‘ Well, it ’ s unusual a lad of your age getting up so early every morning, for no good reason either. ’

‘ How do you know I haven ’ t a good reason? ’ he asked, losing the polite exterior even more this time and becoming more aware of it now.

‘ Going over to those great big old stone things. Old Norrith said he seen you the other day with your eyes closed wide with ye hands outstretched like you was reaching out for something what weren ’ t there. Most strange behaviour he said. Not normal at all for a lad of your age. Not normal for anyone he actually said ….Very odd. ’ The old blacksmith took a huge gulp from his flagon this time as if he had just scored a huge hit in some verbal game of words.

‘ Oh, that ’ s your meaning. Well if I go to those stones for reasons of my own, that ’ s my business. ’

‘ All right, young Thengol. All right … I didn ’ t mean no harm by it. I was just saying, that ’ s all. ’

‘ Well I ’ m going to find a seat. I ’ m waiting for someone. Bye for now.'

He moved across the floor before his interlocutor asked him the inevitable question about who he was waiting for. He moved this time keeping his gaze fixed towards the floor and pretended he hadn ’ t heard. He didn ’ t want to engage in conversation at all if he could help it as he knew his tendency to talk too much. Very often nerves would get the better of him and he would say something just a little beyond what he had meant to say, and he had got himself and others into trouble more times than he cared to remember although he was improving with age. And with all the thinking he ’ d been doing of late about leaving this old place behind, he didn ’ t want to give anything away. In no time people would be asking him at every turn where he was going to move to, and when was he intending on leaving the village that had been his family home for several generations. He knew they wouldn't just be asking because they were interested either, far from it, it would be to criticise his every move, behind his back, of course, in the time-honoured tradition of the people of Cornburn. No, he would keep his mouth well and truly shut for now. 

He found an ideal quiet spot and sat in the alcove of a bay window which nicely concealed him from view. The small wooden table in front of him served to hide his protruding legs so that no one might even know he was there at all save for the flagon of ale on the table and the occasional reaching forward of an arm and a hand to draw it to his concealed lips. He ’ d sit and wait for Jangel to arrive and then he ’ d talk and, of course, listen, for he knew Jangel would have something interesting to say. But until he arrived, he ’ d just sit and marinate in his own thoughts largely about distant lands and mountains and gigantic forests, and adventures he might just have one day, one day when he leaves this place far behind.

‘ Well, well, well, ’ the blacksmith proclaimed at the top of his voice as a cold wind entered the premises, the door having been swung open. ‘ Well, if it aint old Mr Lampstone and his priceless cargo, ’ he added.

There was quite a stir amongst the patrons as the newcomer entered the Heron ’ s Nest.

‘‘ Tis indeed myself, ’ said Jangel in his usual jovial manner. ‘ Is it me you ’ re pleased to see or my cargo? ’ asked Jangel as he rolled a barrel of his finest ale across the flagstones and to the edge of the serving area.

‘ Well, can ’ t it be both? ’ asked the blacksmith.

‘ Now now, Kenrid, you know it ’ s Mr Lampstone ’ s beer that has brightened your eye and not Jangel himself. ’

This retort came from a man, who was about the same age as the blacksmith, who had been content to sit quietly supping his ale and smoking a pipe in the shadows until Jangel Lampstone had entered and completely altered the atmosphere in much the same way that a large rock dropped into a pond may do to the still waters.

Thengolis decided to give it just a little while before he made himself known to Jangel. Jangel liked to chat and he had the gift of being able to talk with just about anyone. Thengolis, on the other hand, found himself struggling more and more with small talk. He somehow found it dishonest, at least of late. If he wasn ’ t interested in something, why pretend to be by talking about it, he thought? And he didn ’ t like to be the focal point of attention, and by calling upon the beer merchant right now, he would certainly be drawing far too much of it upon himself. So he sat, and waited for the opportune moment. 

He sat and he sat still some more and Jangel continued his rather boisterous banter with the blacksmith and the man who had been content to sit quietly by himself with his own thoughts until Jangel had arrived. Others were gathering around too now. And Thengolis continued to sit still some more and wait.

Eventually, Thengolis finished his ale, and he was feeling ever so slightly more sociable than was his norm, perhaps as a result of the contents of the flagon now imbibed. He dared himself to walk across to where Jangel was entertaining all and who were clearly listening to his jovial and somewhat spirited way of expressing himself.

‘ I tell you, ’ he was saying, ‘ there are even stranger places over the horizon, even than old Cornburn. ’

‘ Stranger than Cornburn? ’ said the blacksmith.

‘ Indeed there are. Where the men are four feet tall and the women nearly eight or more. ’

‘ Really? ’ said the blacksmith.

‘ He ’ s having you on, ’ said the lone man, which was greeted by a pause which in turn was followed by much spluttering and laughter from others who had joined the group.

‘ Now then, you come here with all these fanciful tales of all these places you get to on your travels around the countryside, and I don ’ t know whether to believe a single word that comes outa your mouth, Mr Lampstone. I really don ’ t, ’ said the blacksmith as he supped his ale.

Thengolis had not been noticed yet but stepped forward to the serving area where he raised his flagon to the serving girl.

‘ Ah, young Thengol! ’ called Jangel as soon as he spotted him. ‘ I ’ m glad you could make it. ’

Thengolis suddenly felt everyone ’ s gaze upon him, and he wondered whether this was the point he was supposed to say something jovial and funny too, just like Jangel would do.

‘ Yes, ’ he said, ‘ we were going to have a chat about something if you remember? ’

Thengolis ’ s rather cold and matter of fact manner towards Jangel contrasted starkly with the atmosphere of joviality that had just reigned around Jangel's person and a slightly awkward silence ensued along with a few patrons feeling the need to feign a cough or two.

In distinctly less jovial tones, Jangel broke the silence and said in what was almost a whisper compared to the volume with which he had previously been speaking, ‘ Thengol, why don ’ t you go and sit down over there, and I ’ ll be with you shortly just as soon as I ’ ve finished talking with this fine folk. ’

Thengolis returned to his chosen spot which concealed him from view as before, and there he waited for Jangel to wind up his boisterous conversation.

After a few more laughs and splutters from the small gaggle that had gathered around the novelty that was the itinerant beer merchant, the laughter reached a natural trailing off point at which Jangel was able to say, ‘ Well gentlemen,