Dungeons, Then Groves

On friends, gratitude, and the journey

Around the crackling fire, the group had become silent. The cold chill that often danced around them had paused, and as they leaned against ruins of a place long forgotten, they collectively, finally, heaved out a long sigh.

It was the knight who first acknowledged that their quest, their Herculean task, was finally done. He brazenly dug his sword into the ground, and let his mind wander aimlessly for the first time in many days. His armor was a muted grey, with a much livelier gold trim, coated with countless dents and scratches- dozens of adornments, ones that told the story of just how many foes were slain, how many challenges overcome.

He thought about home, about sheep and chickens and spotted, friendly cows. Perhaps, now that this was all over, he would come back and treat them with a certain kindness, one that he felt was often absent.

He thought about the way the sun shone through the windows of his home, a humble dwelling gifted by a man who was far too kind, and far too removed from his the knight’s life to understand how monumental the gift really was.

He would be rich enough, he thought, that he could build another one, of the same trees, with the same height, the same width, and the same stature, right beside it. Perhaps that one could even be a guest house, for the many visitors he would have on coming back from their formidable quest. Legions of adoring fans, all lining up to see him, to shake his hand and hear his victorious tale.

Or, perhaps, it could just be for those he was closest to.

The idea of a full table, a glowing hearth, and an abode filled to the brim with those he loved brought both a deep warmth, and a tiny, prickling memory of days past. The former led him to look around the fire- surrounded by those he could call his peers, confidants, his invaluable chums, his rotten soldiers, his ridiculous cabal of comrades who were all different down to their very bones but so undeniable cut from the same cloth that it would be foolish to think of it any differently.

In fact, some in his merry band worn tattered rags, while others adorned the finest silks. Some wore the clothes of artisans, while some enjoyed more simple wares. Some came in the stature of strong oak trees, while others were heavenly, graceful. Both men and women filled these two camps. All for the better, he thought.

He was lucky. It is not in every lifetime that a man finds his orbit, that he finds wind behind the sails every time he sets out to sea.

The crackling fire began it’s eventual shrinking, going from a hearty flame to a small one, then, just a whisper of smoke. The knight and his band got up, and they began laughing. The thought of their quest being over threw them into an uproar, nearly buckling their knees to keep from keeling over.

They took the horses and set off again. The sun was coming up and it was blindlingly stunning. Every leaf on every tree bristled in the wind, and the mountains gave way to a view of a grove. It may have been way off in the distance, but it did not feel very far at all.

They knew that when they entered the grove, the castle would not be far.

Smiling, and laughing, the band took a long look into the grove. It was filled with magnificent trees, ones that nearly invited them to slow down, to pause.

Coming off their horses, the band took a long rest before setting off for the castle. They did not say anything, they did not need to. They just wanted to enjoy each other’s company one last time, before setting off on their next quest.