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Lazybones's Keep on the Shadowfell/Thunderspire Labyrinth
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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 4917178" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Chapter 80</p><p></p><p></p><p>It was a bright, cloudless day, cool but not oppressively so, with a soft breeze blowing down out of the mountains to the north. The hills that flanked the road were covered with carpets of long green grasses that rose as high as four feet in places, with tangled knots of dense brush clustered in the dells between. </p><p></p><p>A wagon pulled by a single draft horse rattled along the road. The road was in decent shape, given how sparsely populated the western Nentir Vale was, but the recent rains had left it populated with ruts and bumps. But the wagon was new, with good springs, and its passengers were content to put up with a few jolts now and again. </p><p></p><p>From beside him on the wagon’s seat, Yarine smiled at Jaron. The halfling cleric looked much better than she had when they’d left the Seven-Pillared Hall, although she still limped a bit when she thought that Jaron wasn’t paying attention. The experience within the Labyrinth had aged her, but the sun and the wind, along with the good food and drink that had been heaped upon them at Fallcrest, had done well for all of them. </p><p></p><p>Jaron grinned. They’d started seeing landmarks since breaking camp that morning, and a sense of excitement was building amongst all of the halflings as they drew nearer to their home. There was a touch of bittersweet in that for Jaron. Unlike the other halflings, who viewed the entirety of their travels outside their village as one terrible nightmare to be put behind them, Jaron had found a renewed sense of purpose in his adventures, along with an excitement that would be hard to match in the relatively quiet environs of Fairhollow. Maybe what he’d told Carzen would hold true for him as well. And there was Beetle to consider.</p><p></p><p>As if summoned by the thought, his cousin appeared on the crest of a hill ahead to their left, jumping up and down with waving arms to get their attention. Jaron’s grin broke into a full smile, and he urged the horse forward with a snap of the reins. Several of the halfling villagers in the wagon behind him started up excited cheers. </p><p></p><p>“I hope that Gral and Draela make it back over the mountains safely,” Yarine said. “They have a much harsher journey ahead of them than we did.”</p><p></p><p>“I have no doubt that they can take care of themselves,” Jaron replied. “In fact, I feel sympathy for any bandits that seek to bar their path.”</p><p></p><p>“It is so sad, their loss,” the cleric responded. “They loved him very much.”</p><p></p><p>It was just like Yarine, Jaron thought, to feel sympathy for others, even in the wake of the terrible ordeal through which she’d suffered. Despite her weakened condition, she’d provided a strong support for the other halflings stolen from Fairhollow, both during and after their captivity. She’d kept them together, and protected them from the trauma that might have otherwise left them permanently broken inside. As it was, they’d have nightmares, Jaron knew, but those would fade, in time. </p><p></p><p>Jaron waved back at Beetle, who ran down the hill to greet them. He ran along an outcropping of stone and sprang down fifteen feet into the bed of the wagon, almost landing on Tandrin. He laughed and jumped up between Jaron and Yarine on the wagon’s seat. He pointed as the wagon rolled up the rise between the two hills, the last two hills, toward the quiet dell where Fairhollow resided. </p><p></p><p>And then it was there, the familiar houses and farms, the people and animals, tiny wisps of smoke rising from squat chimneys. At the sight of it, Jaron felt a soft pressure on his heart, and he looked over at Yarine to see tears in her eyes. </p><p></p><p>“We’re home,” both of them said, together. </p><p></p><p></p><p>THE END</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 4917178, member: 143"] Chapter 80 It was a bright, cloudless day, cool but not oppressively so, with a soft breeze blowing down out of the mountains to the north. The hills that flanked the road were covered with carpets of long green grasses that rose as high as four feet in places, with tangled knots of dense brush clustered in the dells between. A wagon pulled by a single draft horse rattled along the road. The road was in decent shape, given how sparsely populated the western Nentir Vale was, but the recent rains had left it populated with ruts and bumps. But the wagon was new, with good springs, and its passengers were content to put up with a few jolts now and again. From beside him on the wagon’s seat, Yarine smiled at Jaron. The halfling cleric looked much better than she had when they’d left the Seven-Pillared Hall, although she still limped a bit when she thought that Jaron wasn’t paying attention. The experience within the Labyrinth had aged her, but the sun and the wind, along with the good food and drink that had been heaped upon them at Fallcrest, had done well for all of them. Jaron grinned. They’d started seeing landmarks since breaking camp that morning, and a sense of excitement was building amongst all of the halflings as they drew nearer to their home. There was a touch of bittersweet in that for Jaron. Unlike the other halflings, who viewed the entirety of their travels outside their village as one terrible nightmare to be put behind them, Jaron had found a renewed sense of purpose in his adventures, along with an excitement that would be hard to match in the relatively quiet environs of Fairhollow. Maybe what he’d told Carzen would hold true for him as well. And there was Beetle to consider. As if summoned by the thought, his cousin appeared on the crest of a hill ahead to their left, jumping up and down with waving arms to get their attention. Jaron’s grin broke into a full smile, and he urged the horse forward with a snap of the reins. Several of the halfling villagers in the wagon behind him started up excited cheers. “I hope that Gral and Draela make it back over the mountains safely,” Yarine said. “They have a much harsher journey ahead of them than we did.” “I have no doubt that they can take care of themselves,” Jaron replied. “In fact, I feel sympathy for any bandits that seek to bar their path.” “It is so sad, their loss,” the cleric responded. “They loved him very much.” It was just like Yarine, Jaron thought, to feel sympathy for others, even in the wake of the terrible ordeal through which she’d suffered. Despite her weakened condition, she’d provided a strong support for the other halflings stolen from Fairhollow, both during and after their captivity. She’d kept them together, and protected them from the trauma that might have otherwise left them permanently broken inside. As it was, they’d have nightmares, Jaron knew, but those would fade, in time. Jaron waved back at Beetle, who ran down the hill to greet them. He ran along an outcropping of stone and sprang down fifteen feet into the bed of the wagon, almost landing on Tandrin. He laughed and jumped up between Jaron and Yarine on the wagon’s seat. He pointed as the wagon rolled up the rise between the two hills, the last two hills, toward the quiet dell where Fairhollow resided. And then it was there, the familiar houses and farms, the people and animals, tiny wisps of smoke rising from squat chimneys. At the sight of it, Jaron felt a soft pressure on his heart, and he looked over at Yarine to see tears in her eyes. “We’re home,” both of them said, together. THE END [/QUOTE]
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