Quests are depressing. There are hardships. There's death. And when you return home, no one shows appreciation by picking up your tab. A quest is easier to face if you've got a couple of shots of homemade whiskey coursing through your veins. Smoke a pipe of the purple thora reeds that grow on the edge of many swamps and a quest gets easier still. Move onto various types of glowing lichens or some of the spells in my private tome, and suddenly the quest is easier than eating a bowl of soup. Or maybe it's the other way around, and eating a bowl of soup becomes more difficult than going on a quest.
Well, my original point still stands. Questing is easier the more hopped up you are. The problem is, you can go too far when you alter your mind. Really! Eventually, you get so relaxed about the quest that you stop caring altogether. Then, even the smallest distraction will force you to stray from your course. That's why Mr. Baggins and I have it so tough. We need to walk that fine line between comfort and apathy.
"I care about our mission," I declared with feeling. "Don't you, Mr. Baggins?"
"Shh! I'm driving! Concentration... eye on the... horses still moving... carrots."
"Yes, yes. Quite," I agreed. Mustn't upset the hobbit. Vicious temper when he's had some... er... Goodness. I don't remember what he's taken. Probably does a number on his thought process, though.
"I suppose I'll see to the dwarves, then." I turned around in my seat to make sure the remains of our army were still with us.
"Those ropes aren't too tight, I hope." I commented to the pair of them. "It's for your own safety. Wouldn't want you falling out again."
I smiled at them while they made some enthusiastic remarks on the subject. My dwarven isn't what it once was, but I'm sure I heard them mention 'axes' quite a number of times.
"Quite right, quite right. Handy tool--"
I was interrupted by a sudden immense bump.
"My dear Baggins, what was that?"
"Bystander."
"Bystander?"
"She wouldn't move."
"Ah." I tried to decipher his gibberish. What was this 'bystander'? Was it something real? Or was it merely a hallucination of Mr. Baggins's? My train of thought trailed off as I noticed that we were surrounded by buildings.
"We've arrived, Mr. Baggins! Behold the glory of... of..." I paused as I took in my surroundings. "One moment. Everhome was taller the last time I was here. And it was made of a lot more marble, not all of this wood. And I'm sure it had a lot more elves. Not so many of these... people. Something's amiss."
Mr. Baggins, ever resolute in the face of... well, just about everything, continued to drive on, apparently unaware of my rising concern.
"Hmm. Uh, Mr. Baggins, that chap over there looks like an intelligent fellow. Do you think maybe you could steer in his direction?"
I sat back and looked at the low buildings moving past. They were all wooden structures, no more than two stories tall. I remembered Everhome as a glorious place of beauty. Tall towers reached for the sky, intermingled with trees. Elves, the very definition of grace, moved about the streets of Everhome. Elves are aware of their surroundings. They would never stand around and let a cart bear down on them, like that fool standing ahead of us.
"Uh, hang about, Mr. Baggins. I think I want to talk to tha--"
Another bump.
"Never mind. Let's head head towa... um, NEAR that woman over there."
Social interaction might appear to be a simple task, but I assure you, there are subtle complexities involved in communicating with others. One must strive toward a goal, without revealing too much information. I kept this in mind as I approached an attractive young woman. I also popped a purple lichen into my mouth, because one can't be too careful.
"Good lady," I greeted her. "My companion and are on an arduous quest, and I have a question of grave importance to ask you."
The woman, a polite young thing, returned my greeting. "I shall do my best to answer you," she said.
"Good, good. Now, tell me, where are the elves?"
She looked unsure for a moment. "Uh, what elves, kind sir?"
This was starting to get tricky. She had a valid point. I looked carefully about. Indeed, there were no elves. So what was she talking about?
"What do you mean bringing elves into this? Just answer my question," I insisted with some edge to my voice. It's important to be firm with young women.
"But... but..." She was starting to sound scared. Perhaps I'd gone too far.
"I mean you no harm, young lady. Surely you must agree that, if this... STOP MELTING, DAMMIT."
With a squeal, the woman turned and took flight from me. I almost decided to pursue her, then realized that it would be of no use. She obviously knew nothing. She was probably brainwashed.
I turned back to Mr. Baggins in the cart. "Something is afoot in Everhome, Mr. Baggins. Something very strange. Come, let us procure some lodgings."
Dissappointed, I contemplated the muddy, dreary village. It was not the Everhome I remembered. I would get to the bottom of it.
"Mark my words, Mr. Baggins... oh. You're asleep. I'll just take the reins from you, then."
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