Chapter Twenty-One: Sages and Folktales

  Ko-Rethal turned away from the pool, and back to us. For being just about two feet high, I was struck how he could always regard us with bold confidence, even though he had to look up to our faces with his head at quite an angle. He crossed his arms and drew down his formidable eyebrows.

  “So, we have not asked you yet – why were you walking through the Drearwold? Or perhaps I should say, why are you claiming to do so?”

  He was clearly a level-headed thinker and a respected leader of his people; but I, and obviously Freydis and Caiside too, were not afraid to hold back on our story the way we had been with Collina.

  “There is a wise woman,” Caiside told him, “up in the high hills, at the border of the mountains. A sage. We are going to speak with her. To learn.”

  “The three of you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have not heard of such a person. A human?”

  “Yes. I was told of her when I lived to the west. That’s where she may have come from. Might explain why she’s not known so well, here. Yet.”

  “Hmm. Well, we need to leave our Stillwold more often, I think. Despite how lovely it is, here. About what sort of things does she dispense wisdom?”

  As usual, Caiside had a description ready to go:

  How to pick a melon out that’s ripe but not yet bruising,

  how to strike a deal for its barter without losing.

  Ways to make a cold stone cave seem summery and lighter;

  steps to tend sharp teeth so that they're healthier and whiter.

  I saw Ko-Rethal furrow his brows even more, at that, looking a little suspicious that this counselor would address things that would hit so close to home for his people. Caiside may have noticed, too, for she drifted back to more universal conundrums:

  How to turn down fruitcake without sounding too disdainful;

  how to tell your nephew that his lute-playing is painful.

  How to let a stranger know his breeches need some mending;

  how to smile through speeches that just ramble, never-ending.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  How to tell your cousin that she’s making an error, if

  she wants to wed an outlaw or an absent seafarer.

  How to tell the difference ‘tween a love that just needs patience

  and one in which some needy creep just wants complete obeisance.

  When it's sensible to come up short but keep trying,

  but how sometimes such failure can be good; clarifying.

  We all have hopes and plans we'd spend our lives executing,

  but frankly sometimes pipe dreams, well, deserve a refuting.

  If you’ve made a grave mistake, this woman can bear it;

  If you’ve broken up a bond, she’ll help to repair it.

  She’ll answer problems ranging from the small to the mighty

  Matters of great import, as well as things perhaps – flighty.

  Ko-Rethal stood there silent for a long moment after Caiside finished. Then he nodded, and said:

  “Sometimes one needs to let go of one’s dreams, now. She might speak of that, might she?”

  “We have been told she is well-versed,” Caiside said.

  “Well. That can be a – tough snail to extract, you know, as we say. Hmm. I suppose there may be some wisdom to that, though. You know – or I suppose you likely do not – we korreds have tales of a folk hero of ours, one of us who lived long ago, who aspired to be, well, more like you humans. I mean taller, stronger, faster. Than your typical korred.”

  “No, I have not heard of this person.”

  “His name was Mo-Ranevall. He was actually even somewhat smaller than your typical korred, oddly. But he took great pains to be large, and to project himself as being large. He would make himself elevated shoes, and tall hats, and the like. And he often made a bit of a fool of himself in doing so. Would you like to hear one of these stories? Well, why not, you’re a captive audience I suppose.

  “One day Mo-Ranevall was out with a group of kobolds, from nearby, walking with them.”

  “You are friendly with kobolds?” I asked him.

  “Ah yes, certainly. They are upright creatures. Once you get to know them.”

  “So we have found.”

  “Very well. So Mo-Ranevall was out with a group of them, on some errand or another. And the kobolds, although you yourselves would find them small, are still twice his size. So he fashions himself stilts, you know, and walks around on those, to keep himself as tall as they are. And they laugh at him; and so does a group of Dwarves they pass by; and a troll; and a knot of dunters. So, perhaps he would have been better off just being satisfied with his actual height.”

  “Perhaps,” Caiside agreed.

  “But there is more to it,” Ko-Rethal continued. “It turns out that amid all the ridicule, several of the kobolds in the party, as they are walking through a meadow, get bitten by snakes. And they swell up like bloated sows. Mo-Ranevall, though, escapes untouched, thanks to his stilts. So in the end, he benefits, although not in the way he thought.

  “So then, maybe it is just as well to pursue your plans? I think about this often, you know. I think I would enjoy speaking with this woman about that. If she is truly wise. I will have to tell you more stories of Mo-Ravenall.”

  “Do these dreams and plans of yours,” I asked, “have anything to do with you capturing us? If you decide to ease up on them, are we free?”

  “No, afraid not,” he said. “It’s a different issue.”

  .