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Message: <blockquote data-quote="spyscribe" data-source="post: 2817125" data-attributes="member: 5808">Part the One-Hundred Eighty-SixthIn which: we come to know more about the Isle of Hues.“Hi!” the man says.  “You’re not sheep.”By this time, several more hunters have emerged from the surrounding woods, all bearing sharpened sticks.It would be more threatening if any of the hunters were more than three and a half feet high, and if fewer of them were smiling.  Or if any of the sticks were really all that sharp.  It takes a moment for anyone in the party to find their tongue.“Umm…  No we’re not.”“Then who are you?” the little man asks.“I am Anvil the Just.” Anvil replies. “Who are you?”“Philinimbram Nacklebarren,” he says with a grin.“Huh wha?” says Eva, echoing the sentiment of much of the party.“Philinimbram Nacklebarren,” the man repeats.  It doesn’t sound any more probable the second time around.Anvil, however, is undeterred by the man’s daunting appellation.  “We are seeking the most powerful wizard in the Halmae.  Do you know this individual?”“Nope,” Philinimbram replies brightly.  The others shake their heads as well.“Do you know anyone who might?”  Reyu presses.The man thinks for a moment.  “Well, we can always ask Granny.  She might know.”  The rest of his group nod quickly in agreement and there is some chatter to the effect that this is certain to be the case.“Is she a wise woman?” “She should be.  She’s our Elder.”“Elder?” Eva asks.  “How old is she?”“Old,” Philinimbram says, nodding sagely.  “She’s over 300.”“300 years?”  Lira lets out a low whistle.  She gives Reyu a sidelong smile.  “That’s old even by your standards.”“Indeed,” Reyu replies. Philinimbram hurries to correct the party’s misunderstanding.  “300 years!?  No, no.  Granny’s 300 months old.”  Then, as Lira’s words fully register, he gapes wide-eyed at the party.  “300 years?  Wow.  Do you really live that long?”“Well,” Eva mutters, “I don’t.”###Philinimbram Nacklebarren leads the way back to his village.  As they walk, Thatch gets a chance to ask a question that has been nagging at him ever since he met Hue that night in the woods so many months ago.“So, what do you call yourselves?” he asks.“By our names, usually,” he answers.“No,” Thatch, struggles to clarify.  “What do you call a whole group of people like you, collectively?”“Oh,” Philinimbram replies, realizing what the fighter is after.  “People.”“People?”“Yeah.”“But,” Thatch shakes his head, “we’re people.”“No you’re not,” Philinimbram says, laughing.  “You’re big feets.”“Big feets?”“Sure,” he replies, pointing to Thatch’s—admittedly rather large—examples.“Are there other big feets here?”  Lira asks, hiding a smile at Thatch’s consternation.“Sometimes,” the small man allows.  “You’re the first ones we’ve really met.  Most of the time we just see your tracks.”The party also asks their guide about the symbol they’ve seen repeatedly on or near creatures on the other islands.“Do you know it?” Reyu asks, sketching the figure in the dirt.“Of course,” Philinimbram answers with his usual enthusiasm.  “It’s our clan symbol.”“Your clan symbol?”“Sure.”  The man pulls up his sleeve to show the same symbol Reyu has sketched on the ground tattooed on the back of his shoulder.“Where did you get that?” Reyu asks.“I’ve always had it.”“It’s a birthmark?”“Oh no.  It’s this thing called a tattoo.  It’s kind of complicated, but you take a special kind of dye and some needles, and--”“I… am aware of the process,” Reyu says.“Oh.” Philinimbram seems almost disappointed that he can’t finish sharing his wealth of information.Reyu and Thatch exchange a look.  Yep.  It’s just like having Hue back.At last the group arrives at Philinimbram’s village.  According to Philinimbram—who the party has no reason to doubt—it is the only settlement on the island, and the residents are quite proud of it.  The hues—as the party has started referring to the little people—live in burrows which are mostly underground, but with windows cut into the upper stories.  It is from these windows, doorways, and the occasional tree trunk that many residents are now gawking at the newcomers.Thatch does his best not to stare back.  Anvil surveys his observers without self-consciousness, and notes with approval that all of the residents are dressed in simple woolen garments; it would seem that no part of the sheep is wasted.  Lira nudges Eva as she spots a cluster of children watching them from underneath a bush.  As the youngest child in her family, she’s never been overly fond of the word “moppet” but it’s certainly the term that leaps to mind.  The little ones are adorable, barely knee-high even to her.  One brushes a lock of hair out of her face, and Lira is forced to wonder if she and her friends are that amazed by the appearance of the mythical big feets, or if their eyes take up half their faces normally.Philinimbram walks up to the door of one such burrow and knocks loudly on the door.  “Granny!” he calls out.  “There are big feets here to see you!”Eva looks around.  If there was anyone in the village who was not peeking out behind something to stare at them before, there isn’t now.A thin, elderly voice comes out in response to Philinimbram’s call.  “Who’s that?”“It’s Philinimbram!  With big feets!”A pause.“Well, come in.”The members of the party examine the tiny door of the burrow skeptically.“It would be better if you could come out,” Anvil calls back.“I can’t hear you!  You’ll have to come in.  I’m a little hard of hearing.”“Come.  Out.”  Anvil shouts.“There’s no need to shout.  Come in,” Granny’s voice comes back.Thatch wanders down the length of the burrow until he comes to a window.  Inside, is a comfortable-looking, if primitively furnished, room with a tiny, ancient woman sitting on a wooden chair, knitting.“We can’t,” he answers her.  “We don’t fit.”“Boddiwerble?” the woman looks up, startled.  “Where have you been?”  Then, almost as an afterthought, “Did you bring those muffins from your mother like I asked?”“Umm…”Eventually, Philinimbram convinces Granny to come out of her burrow, and she and Anvil have a protracted discussion.  It’s protracted mostly because she keeps thinking that Anvil is an individual by the name of Dimpleglim and Anvil keeps correcting her misapprehension.“Do you know a great wizard who lives in these islands?”“I did once.  I saved the stones to make a rattle for my granddaughter.”“No, not a great gizzard.  A great wizard.”“You should know to leave lizards alone, Dimpleglim.”“You think I am an individual who I am not.”“What?”“I am not Dimpleglim.”“Of course not, you look nothing like him.”And so on around again.  Eventually, the rest of the party wanders off and leaves Anvil to handle the conversation.  Anvil is certainly capable of doing so, his resolution and unflappability matched only by Granny’s dottiness. After standing and talking quietly among themselves for some minutes, the rest of the group eventually notices two of the village children quietly creeping towards them.Reyu crouches down to their level, and smiles.  “Come here,” she beckons.They freeze in their tracks.“It’s okay.  Don’t be afraid.”Eventually, she coaxes the pair, and a half dozen other children, into a rough semi-circle, although they refuse to get closer than twenty feet.“Now,” she tells them.  “Watch carefully.”And before their very eyes, Reyu wildshapes into a golden eagle.  She takes to the air easily and flies a lazy circle above the village before coming back to the common, shifting back into elven form just as her feet touch the ground.The children stand transfixed in place, jaws hanging open.  One of them finally manages to close his mouth.  He licks his lips nervously.“W—  Will you come to the party tonight?”Reyu smiles.  “I would be honored.  Can I bring my friends?”The child eyes the rest of the party warily, then nods.“What sort of the party is it?”He swells visibly with pride, bringing him up to just above the level of Reyu’s knees.  “It’s my birthday.”“Not just yours,” another child objects.  “It’s my birthday too.”“And mine.”“And mine!”Suddenly, Reyu finds herself at the center of a swarm of children all clamoring that she should attend their birthdays too.“Mine’s tomorrow night!”“Mine’s the night after!”“Mine’s next week!”Reyu notices one little boy standing off to the side, kicking at the dirt.“When’s your birthday?” she asks gently.“Don’t have one now,” he mutters, barely audible under his breath.“He’s a 31-er!” one of tonight’s birthday boys proclaims.“Yeah!  You’re a 31-er!” the others chant.  “Ne ner ne ner ne ner!”“That’s enough.  That’s enough!”  One of the adults comes bustling into the middle of the crowd, dispersing it and consoling the object of their derision.  “You’ll have a birthday next month,” she consoles him.</blockquote>

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