The night was not kind to Rum, but filled him with terrors. A long nightmare of the arrow still stuck inside him ravaged his consciousness, and he woke up at dawn with a mild pain in his chest. Sweating profusely, he found his right hand clinging to where his chest, to where his lungs were. The dream had been simultaneously weird and terrifying. Sitting up in his bed and pulling aside his blanket, Rum noticed White Rose standing at the end of the bed. Ze was looking into the mirror, just as ze’d been doing hours ago. Noticing Rum’s stare at ze in the reflection, White Rose turned around to look at him. No expression from a skeleton, as always, though for the briefest of moments, Rum wondered if ze was not capable of that most primal of emotions: concerned curiosity. For I am after all was, at least for the most part: White Rose’s only real connection in this world. But he put that thought aside. No answers could be found in it, not yet at least.
Grabbing his blanket again with his hands, he used it to wipe away a chunk of sweat from his forehead. After several wipes, he looked down at a new large stained spot. This is not good. He continued to wipe various spots on his face and neck. The blanket gradually become soaked in his sweat, almost all over. He held it in his hands, looking at it again. Not good at all. I will have to do something. Today!
He stayed in bed a little while longer, keeping switching between wiping, and thinking back to the arrow which he’d felt in his dreams, piercing at his insides. As half an hour passed, he rolled over to the side, planted his feet on the wooden floor, and stepped up and out of bed, looking over at his skeleton. “White Rose, I have to go somewhere.” The skeleton simply watched Rum as he left the bedroom. Amez had not arrived yet, it was too early, so Rum walked out of the shop’s front door.
My injuries are going to require exceptional arts of healing, Rum pondered as he strolled out into the dawn-lit street. A mild pain was still present in his lungs as walked among the few passerbys, and as he thought silently out in the open, he decided to set direction towards his brother’s house. Arriving several minutes later, Rum pounded the front door. Within a few minutes, a sleepy-faced Amez begrudgingly let him inside. They sat around a table together, and Rum quizzed his even more sleep-deprived brother long and hard, who started by listening with closed eyes and his face leaning against his palm. To his credit, Amez did come to a concerned attention though when Rum got into explaining the issue. Minutes later when he left the house, Rum was sent to talk to some old rich customers of Amez, who his little brother remembered had talked about being patched up by a famous physicians. Tired himself, but determined to end his misery, Rum strode across the city, going from district to district, eventually finding the homes and whereabouts of two such former customers, who put Rum on the trail to find the most capable doctor in the city. If I don’t find the best, or at least close to it, I won’t find a cure, Rum encouraged himself, as he bore the walking up and down across Ermos’ many long streets. With insufficient sleep, he was now experiencing an almost perpetual state of fatigue. However, the damages still inside of Rum were so small in size, and so intricate, that Rum couldn’t imagine anyone but the foremost at the medical field were even able to properly understand his problem. Except perhaps in a superficial way, Rum sighed.
The running around the city that, and the quizzing of nearly a dozen different people, led Rum eventually to a sure name, and a sure location. His tiresome quest was finally bearing fruit.
A few hours later, and Rum had begun the next, and most importance stage of his quest: to find the cure. He stood outside, from across a wide, clean, and nearly empty street, gazing at a middle-sized building in front of him. The building in question was the offices of one of Ermos’ most trusted and respected doctor, loved by the rich and the powerful: Doctor Sharam, also known as Sharam The Great.
Surrounding the building was an environment appropriate to the apparent eliteness of this doctor. Part of a beautiful, affluent district, the street’s stone pavements were lined by bright colorful flowerbeds and tall hedges, beyond which were white marble homes and majestic white marble sculptures. The sculptures in particular were a sight to behold. They were many, and came in all sizes and depicting all manners of people, animals, monsters, and weird objects, varying between cute, abstract, historic, and then all the way to just plain horrific. It was a street and a district, of the rich and the powerful. This was the message crafted into every part of his surroundings.
Before coming here, Rum had tried for a brief break in his bed again. But with sleep unable to find him, Rum came to the realization that he needed to visit the doctor today, and now, while the sun was still up, and the doctor still available. Rum cast “Clean Body” and “Renew Clothes” on himself, the spell’s magical energies swirling around him and transforming him. Within seconds, he stood there in a very expensive looking suit, complete with useless rich-person decorations. Oh, greatness, I look practically at home here! Standing in the middle of this affluent district, Rum reviewed himself. His attire included multiple silver embroidery, a red rose flower peeking out from a chest pocket, and big baggy sleeves. So baggy were the sleeves in fact, that it was almost like the dress itself was trying its utmost to show off just how much silky cloth Rum could afford, despite him randomly conjuring it for free out of thin air. His Clean Body spell had also, it appeared, conspired with Renew Clothes in order to make him presentable, as he now had an exquisitely braided beard which even smelled faintly of honey perfume. It might’ve been his imagination, but he also felt like a previously visible pimple on his neck had been covered up with some kind of magical make-up.
Regardless, Rum didn’t care much about any of this, besides the fact that his clothing was a little less comfortable than usual. It bothered him, but not much. And so, instead of thinking any more about how he looked, and how this place looked, Rum just walked up towards the building, starting the most important stage of his quest for health.
The front of the building – of which he had a perfect view as he first set foot – had marble walls decorated with an array of engraved depictions of acts of healing. Passing through the entrance, meanwhile, Rum saw a sleek glistening wooden frame, on top which hang a large garland of flowers, with fresh pieces of tree. Everything about this place hummed with pride and wealth, and even power, as in the power to bestow healing. Stepping inside he came upon a hallway whose sides held further marble depictions where the doctor, or at least some doctor, was saving lives. There were depictions of serious operations, depictions of home-visits to bedridden nobles, and even a depiction of healing amidst an ongoing battle against the dungeon lords. Here Rum noticed the nobles were all glorified to the point of silly. As in: the battle mounts were just heaps of muscle under plated armor, every noble had a perfect figure, and they all stood in valiant poses – except the one noble being brought back to life by the doctor. He was valiantly dying instead, seeming prepared to give a long heroic speech, while an axe stuck out from his fully-muscled belly.
Rum had been in a battle before. Not as a combatant, but he had seen soldiers die, even two nobles die. Neither the soldiers nor the nobles came either fully-muscled or fully armored, and their last acts upon dying – especially when gutted by sharp weapons – was usually to cough up mountains of blood while relieving themselves. Most shameless of all, their loyal friends and followers would usually try to excuse themselves from the inconvenient mid-battle deathbed, leaving the less-than-heroic noble to bleed out and choke – alone, terrified, and in agony.
Exiting the hallway, there appeared to Rum, behind a counter to his front and right, a human woman, clothed in a white dress with a pink bowtie. On his left, meanwhile, a half-circle of comfy luxurious chairs revealed themselves. One patient, a male urban elf, sat there with a swollen right foot resting in his lap. He was a younger, slightly less pompous-looking fellow than Rum. As Rum briefly stared, he felt just a tiny hint of superiority-by-pomposity comparing the two of them, though this feeling lasted for but one curious, tiny little indulgent moment. He turned to the nurse, who met him with the widest of practiced smile.
“I would like an appointment with Doctor Sharam” the wizard-in-disguise stated. She nodded at him and looked into an appointment book in front of her.
“You are in luck!” she said, appearing to show happiness on his behalf. “May I ask your name, lord?”
Lord? I am no lord, woman. But perhaps you don’t need to know that. Not today at least. Today I’ll let you believe as much.
“My name is Rum.”
“Rum?” she asked, puzzled for a moment.
Rum suppressed his reaction at her tone. Of course that doesn’t sound very noble-like, he almost facepalmed and sighed. Instead he managed to maintain a neutral, emotionless expression, as his thoughts swirled. This name... my parents really make me feel like the most unfortunate surprise child, in the most dysfunctional family, found in poorest streets of The Raven’s Slum. Rum did actually know why he’d been given that name, though he wasn’t about to share the fact with anyone. Not even his own mind, as he repressed the memory before it could surface.
“Yes” he simply said, trying to keep his dignity, “that is my name.”
The nurse looked at him awkwardly for a moment, but as seconds passed, her smile returned and she seemed to have forgotten whatever thoughts had been going on in her head. “Well, Lord Rum, as I said, you are in luck today. Doctor Sharam has no more appointments for an hour at least. Do you wish to see the esteemed doctor right now?”
“Yes, that would be nice.” Rum’s lips drew a little smile of their own. Noticing his own expression, Rum wondered for a brief second if those lips of hers had been enchanted to produce this ability to spread her outward sentiment, though he dropped that strange thought quickly. She moved around the counter and stepped in front of him, waving a soft hand for him to follow her, down another overly decorated hallway, and into a room, a room unlike the others, because here almost every surface was wood, and all of it glistening too. Around the room, various plants stood on top of shelves, with some standing along a window, and further more standing right next to a magnificently large and curved desk.
On the opposite side of this desk sat what Rum presumed to be the doctor. A smoking, fat, gold-lined cigar surrounded below by a white coat. He, the doctor, was an above average-sized dwarf, and in fact a rather beautiful specimen. His hair was dark blond, half-long, and stylish. His beard and moustache were cut short for efficiency. Though his eyes contrasted with the rest of his appearance, wearing big round glasses causing them to appear at ridiculous proportions. If it wasn’t for those, Rum thought, the shorter bulkier man in front of him would’ve looked stunningly handsome. As the doctor tilted upwards from a stack of old paper on his desk, Rum couldn’t help but also notice a large golden-yellow bowtie at the dwarf’s neck, cementing an aura of luxury that’d otherwise permeated every wall of this building.
“Now, who is this one?” the dwarf doctor said in a deep, pleasant, but authoritative voice, reaching for his cigar to extinguish it in a tray along the window.
The nurse bowed so low that her behavior looked borderline ridiculous. Although Rum felt much the same about all forms of bowing. To him, such games of humility felt entirely unnatural. It’s like people are surrendering their self-worth, that was how he best could describe his unease with it. Something about submitting to a lower position in a hierarchy just stirred up general worry in him.
“This Lord Rum wishes to consult the esteemed doctor” the nurse answered, still not pulling up from her bow. The dwarf grabbed the stack of papers in front of him, putting it all collectively to one side, then folded his hands looking straight up into Rum’s eyes.
“What seems to be the issue, Lord Rum? Can’t recall having you here before.” As soon as the dwarf had spoken the nurse rose up and silently stepped back, presumably heading for the reception. THUD!, Rum turned and noticed she’d closed a wooden door he hadn’t even known to be there.
Rum returned his eyes back to the dwarf, jumping right into his prepared explanation. “I recently suffered an arrow to the lungs. With healing magic I’ve been able to heal most of it, but it seems the spells haven’t been able to deal with it entirely. I’m still suffering from what I believe to be a myriad of very tiny damages to my insides. The damages have recently begun disturbing my sleep, and in the day they keep me drained of stamina. I don’t know how to fix this, and so I seek the aid of a skilled healer. I’ve been told you’re among the best.”
The dwarf nodded along. When Rum was finished, the dwarf stood up, taking his time to walk slowly around the table. “Alright, I understand.” As he arrived in front of the wounded wizard he stopped, laying eyes on Rum with an analytic intensity, weighing and calculating him with his eyes. “You prefer it straight to the point I see? Good, makes this all easier. You believe there may be tissue scars at work? That’s what is sounds like to me. Damaged organ tissue that won’t heal properly... I’ve worked successfully with cases like that before, and I could help you with it.”
“Great!” Rum beamed at the dwarf. The dwarf didn’t beam back. Instead he put his hands behind his back and started slowly pacing back and forth in front of Rum.
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“Of course the solution I have in mind is likely to be a difficult procedure, Lord Rum. I will need to consult with my great apothecarian friend Irvanir The Bright, she’s a superb elf operating down near the City Forest. She can make a healing salve that is likely to help with your particular issue. It is very potent stuff that you can’t get many other places. Of course I will also have to consult with my colleague Doctor Morvan, a fellow dwarf. Also a surgeon who specializes in these kind of intricate operations. Yes, all in all, I can help you with this issue of yours. Though I’ll need to take a proper look at you myself first, in order to ascertain that we have the right diagnosis here.” The dwarf paused, putting his hands up to his beard and starting to massage his chin thinkingly. After a moment he changed the subject. “Have you sorted out payment with my nurse yet, Lord Rum? I’m afraid this sort of problem can be quite expensive to solve, seeing as we’ll need three of Ermos’ finest healers to resolve the issue.”
Rum couldn’t help but notice the dwarf had included himself in that sentence. Humility is for the lower class it seems, and not a concept worthy of higher folk. On the subject of payment, well… that’s the topic I’ve been dreading. He had been hoping that he might just use Self-Running Legs to escape the bill once the fix had taken place, leaving behind his share of the money from the loot, in order to cover what part of the expenses he could afford. This plan had seemed to be working right up until about now. But maybe it can still work?
“Yes I have. But what kind of payment – purely out of curiosity – are we looking at here?”
“Oh” the dwarf thought to himself, massaging his chin some more. “Hmm. I’ll have to double check, but for a rough estimate, I think it’ll be around 460 gold?”
Rum had never been much worried about money, but when he’d received his 3 gold and 50 silver after giving White Rose ze’s share, he’d felt almost rich. But now this dwarf wanted way above 100 times what he had, and he felt dirt poor comparing the two numbers. Rum managed to not express his poverty in any way though, and just nodded along, like 460 gold was the most normal sum of money in the world, and not 4.6 MILLION COPPER COINS!
“Good then. Let’s have a see, shall we?”
The next fifteen minutes the dwarf studied Rum thoroughly. Even casting spells on him intended to study his condition, and to evaluate the medical narrative they’d been starting with. In the end the dwarf confirmed most of Rum’s suspicions. He had a significant amount of scarred tissue, which would need a magically enhanced healing salve to overcome the scarring, and a quite skilled surgeon hands in order to perfectly administer the concoction. Rum was asked to come back later to arrange the time and the place for the operation, and so, it all appeared to be over – for now.
As Rum walked out of Doctor Sharam’s building though, a plan started to form inside his head. He could not get 460 gold, or 4.6 million copper, to pay the outrageous sum for his healing. Neither could he go on like this, with a malfunctioning lung. He decided he’d need to go one step further than his previous plans for escape, as they’d discover he had no money before the operation could even take place. What he would have to do, is to find a way to use the skills of Doctor Sharam, without Doctor Sharam’s paywall standing in the way.
Rum stood in the middle of the street outside the building, thinking for some time. He turned about, facing the construction of marble and art, and stretched out his hand. He reached out with his mana, his magical self, and pour it out across the streets, in through the entrance, in down the first hallways, passed the oblivious receptionist’s counter and waiting room, and down through the next hallway, into the doctor’s office. There, he far stretched out magical self spreading out to find the dwarf, the physician known as Sharam The Great.
“Mana Ghost” came a whisper into the empty street.
Through his magic, Rum felt the dwarf on the other end collapse almost instantly on top of his desk. A brief moment later of gathering up the dwarf’s mana ghost, and a trail of magic rushed back through the hallways and waiting room and entrance and all the way into the street and up towards him. Reaching him, this ghost of mana swirled up along his arm, over his shoulder, and around his neck, before settling into his forehead. Panicked shouts and yells could be heard from the receptionist inside who must have noticed the magic trail in the air and come across the collapsed dwarf. Rum wasn’t worried though, the dwarf’s unconsciousness was just the body’s brief shock response to having its essences copied, and the dwarf would be fine in a few minutes. Like they always had been. At least so far, Rum mentally noted.
One done, two more to go, he thought, putting the first doctor out of his mind as an optimism overcame him, with the hope that soon – soon he could sleep again soundly, soon he’d find his cure.
Feeling a bit lazy and still being a little unwell from the morning’s nightmare, Rum decided to cast Self-Running Legs. His legs quickly absorbed the command, and off he went, down the streets at a rapid pace, aiming for the City Forest – for the homes of the green-elves. Really, who needs exercise, when they can just order their body into shape? Rum rounded the corners of city blocks, one after the other and expeditiously. Wait – my lungs aren’t properly working today. Why did I just ask my legs to run all the way? Can I even run that far? He had just come down from the northern-most part of the city of Ermos, and passed the inner city gates to reach the outer metropole and the city’ south-eastern parts, when he realized he may not survive the journey.
Less than half an hour later, Rum’s legs arrived at their designated destination. As the legs jogged into a wide street of dirt, with wooden houses on either side seemingly overrun by climbing plants and grassy rooftops – the torso of the leg’s owner hang loose like a corpse on horseback, dangling left and right with motions, the brain of the body totally unconscious from oxygen deprivation. When the legs arrived at the end of the street they stopped. There, torso, head, legs, and everything else just tipped over, falling into dirt. For many minutes, the wizard merely lay there, unconscious and shaped like a boiled shrimp, while curious elven onlookers stared at him, wondering if he be dead.
A finger twitched, then another, and suddenly three nearby women’s voices gasped in succession. Rum opened his eyes, and as a first order of business attempted to stretch his legs as best he could, trying to overcome his shrimpy bend. Straining against his soreness, he managed eventually to stretch out, and rolled over to lie on his back. Hazy eyes stared up at the sky, while zoned out ears ignored the voices about him.
“Should I go see the human?” A woman spoke. Through the general background noise of the city, and a few carriages and wagons moving past him in both directions, Rum couldn’t hear exactly what the woman got in reply, but he managed to guess at it, as soon enough his sky-sight was abruptly blocked by a blond, pointy-eared, busty woman, in a patched cheap green dress, and a golden necklace hanging from her neck.
“You well human?”
Rum tried breaking through his hazy mind with a reply. “nnn… nyeeeaah”
“Do you need anything? Water perhaps?” The elf woman looked at Rum with maternal worry.
“Nnnh… nh-sure” he responded tiredly. The elf woman walked away, and Rum got to stare at the fine blue sky once more. The time would approach sunset before long.
The elf woman came back with a small jug of water, kneeling down in front of his left side. “Now” she said, “if you can sit up, and we might avoid spilling. Or would you like that I give it to you, while you lie down?”
Rum tried to ask his muscles if they were ready to respond. He got a weak reply back, indicating it was not outside the range of possibilities, but that sitting would likely pose a challenge. He tried. Initially those tries consisted of attempting to use his less tired back muscles and arms to sling his torso up into a sitting position. This exercise looked rather dumb as he failed and fell back down several times. Eventually he fumbled with his left arm after the elf woman’s hand and mumbled: “Nnnh-help”. The woman put the jug aside, and grasped Rum’s shoulders, helping him up into a sitting position, whereupon Rum decided to lean extra forward, afraid that his exhausted legs would give away and he’d fall back down again. The elf woman placed the jug at his lips and he drank heartily in-between exhausted breaths.
“That’s good” and she used her robe to dry Rum’s mouth. “What’s your name, and what brings you here in such a hurry?”
Rum breathed heavily for a couple of times, then replied for the first time like a normal person. “I’m looking for Irvanir The Bright.” He breathed heavily a couple of more times. “Have you heard of her?”
The elf put her head to one side and thought out loud, mumbling the name “Irvanir, Irvanir… The Bright?” She stood up and walked back whence she’d come. Now that Rum was no longer staring up at the sky he could see where that was. Out on a veranda and in front of one of the buildings were three massive wooden chairs, surrounding a small wooden table, on top of which was a glass bottle of yellow-greenish liquid. Sitting in two of the chairs was a duo of other green-elven women, both blond, but wearing separately purple and orange patched dresses. The woman with the purple dress also had a wide sun-shielding hat in matching color. Rum’s green-dressed elven savior sat next to her friends and chatted with them intensely for a minute. After that, she got up again and walked back into the dirt street, over towards Rum, who was starting to improve in his exhausted condition. Arriving next to him she squatted, her jug of water in hand. She offered Rum another sip, and he accepted.
“We haven’t heard of this elf Irvanir The Bright. But what is your name?”
“Rum” he steadied himself, and managed to lift his knees and turn over so that he was kneeling. “And you?”
“Luvin” she smiled warmly. “Good look finding that elf, Rum.”
Luvin walked back to her friends and the wizard spent a few more minutes recovering, before deciding that it was time to get back up on his feet, even as stumbled a bit forward. He sighed heavily, but managed gradually to stand upright and steady, and to not walk like a drunk.
“Where could you be Irvanir?” Rum asked the question to nobody in particular, or maybe he was hoping some passerby would hear him and return an answer. None came.
Turning around to look over at the City Forest, he saw three enormous trees, the nearest of which was only a couple of hundred meters or so away. Along the tree going upwards were a few dozen or so houses on the outside, the entrance to the houses presumably inside the tree. In-between the houses one could also see window-holes, while 3-4 terraces per tree allowed for small gatherings with a view, or a spacious lonesome gaze out across the city. The most interesting thing about green-elven architecture, however, was that this was all magic. The wood itself had been shaped by magic, and not cut into planks or carved into holes. Green-elves morphed the trees, forcing interior wood to surface outside and form their houses and terraces, while the openings, like the window-holes, came as the result of an empty interior. So magnificent, so beautiful. Rum admired the view here from afar and outside the forest. In all his years living in Ermos City before, he’d never faced an opportunity to be here and study these wonders himself. Not even on his six years journey had he come across whole communities of green-elves living their culturally particular arboreal existence. It was said that the green-elves of Ermos City were some of the last of their species, after the dungeon lords wiped out four out of every five of their communities in the now-named Desolate Lands. There were green-elven communities living south, south-west and south-east of The Desolate Lands, but all the known communities were rather small as far as Rum knew, and while there’d been rumors of a great city of green-elves deep within a vast forest to the south-east, they were just rumors. If the city existed, it was effectively sealed off from the world, and so to the world, The City Forest was the only large and urban area for green-elves, formed by the united communities of the remaining green-elves who escaped the dungeon lords many decades ago.
Rum stumbled forward towards the City Forest proper. He didn’t know exactly where to go. Sharam had said Irvanir The Bright lived near the City Forest. Considering the size of the City Forest however, that left a huge circumference of city to potentially explore. All Rum knew for certain was that The Bright was an elven woman, one of who-knows-how-many thousands of elves living around this area.
Rum stopped walking. He looked back over at the three elven women, and instead strolled, and nearly stumbled, over to their table.
“Luvin?” The woman look back at him as he approached. “Do you know where I could ask about Irvanir The Bright? I haven’t been here before” he gestured to the City Forest, “and don’t really know where to get started.”
Luvin’s eyes went up towards the sky while she thought for a moment. Before she could find a response though, her orange-dressed friend beat her to it. “What about the Committee of The Pine? They should probably be able to help the human.”
The two other elves glanced at their orange friend, before they all kind of started cloud watching, their mouths humming with thought.
“What do you know about this elf, Irvanir The Bright?” the purple-dressed elf asked.
“Only her name, and that she lives near the City Forest. So probably not inside it.”
“Ah” the same elf responded, “The Committee of The Oak! That’s where he should go. The Oak Committee has their tree closer to the city wall. The tree of the Committee of The Pine is too close to the center of our Forest.”
“But the Pine people are so many!” The orange-dressed elf objected. “And the Oak Committee so small!”
“What about the Committee of The Spruce?” Offered Luvin. Her two friends frowned.
“The Committee of The Spruce are too strange.” The elf of orange disapproved. “This human wouldn’t want to associate with them!”
“But–” Luvin began retorting, “–they know many humans. Remember all the parties they’ve had in their tree? Remember when they lead 300 humans up into their tree, and drank and played with them for 3 days straight? They must know a lot of humans if they could get that many of them. And if our human is looking for an elf, it’s probably an elf who has contact with humans.”
“But reeeally” the orange elf grimaced at the idea, “they are so… awkward. We don’t want to be sending him to them!”
“Look, the both of you” Luvin said as she seized control of the discussion, “the Pine Committee hardly knows much about humans. The Oak Committee trades with humans, true, but they mostly stick to themselves. A third of their board are wild gnomes for the gods’ sake! If anyone would have a connection with this human, it’d probably be the Committee of The Spruce.”
Purple elf turned over to Rum, who’d been silently watching their debate. “Human, which one sounds best, do you think?”
Rum considered it for a second. Whether it was because she’d come to his aid, or perhaps it was because she was indeed the one making the most sense, Rum either way looked to Luvin, the elf in green. “I guess this Committee of The Spruce you speak of. I’ll try them out.”
Purple elf nodded, orange elf kept a skeptical look on her face, while Luvin smiled a small triumph. “Well, walk up the north side of the City Forest” Luvin began explaining, “when you see the northern-most great tree there, walk about 15 minutes’ westwards just south of it. When you get there, you should be able to spot a great tree whose trunk and boughs have been painted in… well every way really. Every few months they do a new paint job on that tree, and it’s been receiving half-finished paint jobs for decades. The Committee of The Spruce like their colors. Their higher members wear bright yellow robes with blue stripes–“
“–a horrible sight” the orange-dressed elf interjected.
“It’s quite something, yes.” Luvin continued. “They also really like lemon juice. Growing lemons and making lemon juice is a favorite pastime of theirs. If you see any lemon juice bar suddenly appear between a couple of bushes somewhere: know that you’re in the right neighborhood.”
“Oh, okay.” Rum nodded along, trying to imagine what kind of elves these were exactly. He doubted his mental image was correct though. Something told him he was missing some information.
I guess I’ll have to go and find out.
