"Werewolves? Hmmm...." muttered Willow, giving Oak and Beech a wary glance. "Interesting. Well, Master Fordim, welcome; we do look forward to your tales. Shall we hear you sing? Or, perhaps, howl--"
Beech cuffed him sharply.
Willow was indignant. "I was being polite. Culturally sensitive. Open minded."
"Save it, sapling," muttered Oak, and then stepped forward. "Welcome, Fordim of the Gauntlet! Be not startled; word travels. We shall gladly hear your tales, be they vengeful or rabid, all in good time, my dear fellow, all in good time. Cheers!"
__________________
...down to the water to see the elves dance and sing upon the midsummer's eve.
|