Philip
Title: Philip
Author: eponine254
Fandom/Character(s)/Pairing(s): Original
Genre: Fantasy - comic
Rating: G
Words: 3137
Challenge/Prompt: fictionland #09: These Pens Were Made for Writing. Prompts 4 (Starting sentence: “Two knocks echoed through the hall. Not the habitual three, but two.”), 8 (image) and 9 (Prompt: Strange).
Warnings: None.
Summary: Some elves just have no sense of epic. Unfortunately for Philip, he's one of those elves.
Philip
Two knocks echoed through the hall. Not the habitual three, but two.
King Leonas of the elves, son of Leonid, grandson of Leoniad, frowned. He was sure he had taught everyone the knocking protocol. Three knocks was the accepted number. It wasn't that the difference bothered him, as such, but there was something much more epic about a three-knock entry.
He had even sent word to the ambassadors of the neighbouring states to make sure that their envoys knew the Great House's protocol.
"Enter," he boomed, in his deepest, most impressive voice.
The large doors of the hall swung open, allowing an appropriately epic gust of wind to rush in from the cold night outside.
"Your majesty," spoke the page at the door. "I present to you the envoy from the Land of Eregor, the land of your brother, sent to attend the Great Council this night."
Leonas's heart sank. He'd been hoping his brother would have forgotten to send anyone. His brother, Leoras, had a knack for upsetting the king. Leonas was convinced he did it on purpose.
His darkest suspicions were confirmed as he laid eyes on the envoy who had been ushered before the throne.
"Oh," he said, his voice failing to mask his disappointment. "Hello, Philip."
"Hiya, uncle!" said the young elf before him, giving the king a cheery wave.
The king could feel a headache starting.
"And so my brother deemed you the most appropriate envoy, did he?" he asked.
"Well, not exactly," said Philip, with an annoyingly cheerful tone that grated Leonas. "The funny thing is, absolutely everyone else was busy. What are the odds?"
"What indeed," murmured the king, pinching the bridge of his nose.
He knew his brother too well to read any innocent motive into his choice of envoy. His brother knew as well as Leonas himself, that the young elf was... well, useless, seemed too strong a word. But he was not the orc-hunter his eldest brother was, nor the sought-after bard his second-eldest brother was. He lacked the skill of his sisters, both of whom were excellent stateswomen, and even the appropriate sense of duty exhibited by his younger brother, who had become an ambassador to the neighbouring kingdom of Verdinia.
Everyone else was busy, indeed. Leonas knew full well that choosing the boy was a calculated insult. But, as there was nothing he could do short of declaring open warfare, the king held his tongue. He had enough on his mind without getting into a pointless fight with his younger brother.
Leoras had always been jealous that Leonas had got the crown.
Philip rocked back and forth on his heels, his hands in the pockets of his tunic. Leonas noticed with dissatisfaction that the young elf had cut his hair into some sort of style which was presumably fashionable out in the provinces, so that it stood up on top of his head like a brush.
The king was far too tired to deal with this.
"Thank you for coming, Philip," he said, with as much gravitas as he could. "You may proceed to the council chambers. You are," - he suppressed the urge to add "of course" - "the last to arrive."
"Thanks, uncle!" said Philip, grinning at the king. "Got any snacks?"
"There will be a banquet upon completion of the Great Council," the king said. "Now please... proceed."
He watched as the elf sauntered casually towards the doors which led into the council chamber.
The king's headache was already worse. It was going to be a very long evening.
***
The Great Council sat assembled, the empty chair at last filled by Philip, who was looking around the circle as though hoping to see someone he knew. The rest of the council were solemn, formally attired in robes of rich colours, sitting in silence as they waited for the king to speak.
The king cleared his throat, loudly. Philip had started chatting to the envoy from Birigali, an attractive human woman who looked more and more murderous the longer the young elf was allowed to persist.
The king cleared his throat, and spoke. "As you know, I have gathered you here from afar to discuss the issue of..." he paused for dramatic effect, and to make sure everyone was paying attention. His skill with dramatic effect was only one of the reasons he had been considered more suitable king material than his brother, who had never quite forgiven him for it. "...the Amulet."
He made sure to capitalise the first letter.
The council was appropriately hushed.
Except for Philip, of course, who chose that moment to sneeze. Even the boy's involuntary functions had no sense of timing. The king ignored him, and carried on.
"The time has come for action. The Amulet must be found and destroyed, that the Dark Wizard Griflingmead may never take hold of it, and, with it, devastate our land. I call for volunteers to undertake this dangerous and difficult quest. I cannot promise that many dangers do not await you in the lands beyond this kingdom. But I must impress upon you that all our lives depend on the willingness of these volunteers to undertake this task, lest our lands once again fall under the spell of the Darkness."
Again, the king made sure the initial capital was made explicit.
The council fell into discussion. To the king's relief, his nephew was silent as the conversation passed back and forth, with the various envoys nominating themselves, or their friends, or their enemies for the task.
At last, something like a resolution was reached. With a lot of symbolic offering of various weapons and talents, a band was assembled.
Before the king stood six of the finest warriors the world had to offer. He surveyed them, approvingly. "You are brave," he said. "Your willingness to undertake this task will not go unrewarded."
He was just formulating a blessing, or some sort of kingly dismissal, when Philip put up his hand.
The king pretended not to notice. But Philip coughed significantly, and started bouncing up and down in his chair, trying to get his uncle's attention.
When he could no longer convincingly pretend not to have noticed, the king turned his attention to his nephew. "Yes?" he spake, in a kingly manner.
"Can I go too, uncle?" Philip asked. "Father specifically wanted it. He said he would take it as an issue of the greatest honour if you would do him the... honour... of... honouring - ok, I think I've got it a bit mixed up, but you know what I mean - if I could go."
"Of course he did," the king said. Apparently his brother hoped that the quest would be a very dangerous one indeed. "Unfortunately, brother-son, I cannot allow such a thing. Here before me you see the anointed - "
The page beside the king's throne coughed meaningfully. The king inclined his head towards him.
"Your majesty, I must needs inform you that the envoys who are not sent upon the quest will remain here, in your House, until such time as news is available for them to convey to their homelands."
The king looked at Philip, who was now grinning at him in what he clearly thought was a winning way.
It did not take him long to make up his mind. "But I cannot dishonour my brother. Philip, son of Leoras, I invite you to join this band, nay, this fellowship, on their quest for the Amulet."
"Awesome," Philip said. "Thanks, uncle!"
The king felt slightly guilty for the sudden visions of dragon ambushes which presented themselves, not unwelcomely, to his mind.
***
They set off at dawn the very next morning, the small band of adventurers venturing out into the world in search of the Amulet.
Philip jogged to keep up with the pretty human female he'd been talking to at the council meeting yesterday. Her name, she'd yielded reluctantly, was Brianna, and she was in charge. Philip suspected she didn't like him very much, but he was sure his good looks and charm had to triumph in the end.
"So, we're going to find the Amulet?" he asked, trotting alongside her as she paced with long strides over the grassland.
"Yes," she said.
"And then destroy it?"
"Yes."
"To defeat the Dark Wizard?"
"Yes."
"Oh, ok."
Brianna stopped and looked at him. "What?" she said.
"No, nothing," Philip said thoughtfully. "It's just that... Well, you'd think that since the Dark Wizard doesn't have it either, we could just leave it alone and everything would be fine."
"No we couldn't," Brianna snapped, resuming her pace.
"Why?"
She didn't bother to dignify this with a response.
Philip had always been bad at epic. It was his most obvious failing. You just couldn't be an elven prince in a land threatened by an Evil Dark Wizard without having at least a basic sense of epic, but Philip had never got his head around it. He blamed his mother. She, after all, had been responsible for naming him "Philip". He felt that a good, strong name, like his eldest brother, Lothar, would have served him better. "Philip" just didn't roll off the tongue in the same way. It certainly wasn't the sort of name for great ballads or epic quests.
And yet here he was. The sun was shining, the pretty girl had talked to him almost politely, and he still had a pack full of food. It could be worse. To be honest, he wasn't entirely fazed whether they found the Amulet or not. It seemed perfectly logical that, if it turned out to be impossible to find, they could at least be fairly certain that the Dark Wizard wouldn't find it either, and they could all go home for tea.
He looked around at his assembled, grim-faced companions. They certainly were a serious-looking lot, Philip thought. There was the wizard - beard and pointy hat and all - two elves Philip was sure he had met at a family reunion once, one dwarf, presumably for affirmative action reasons, and a second human warrior, laden with axes and knives and all manner of pointy things. Philip thought that he must have put quite a lot of effort into looking the part of a hero. Philip suspected that the man knew this too, because he kept squinting heroically into the distance or heroically sharpening an axe or heroically puffing out his chest. Brianna was a warrior too, bearing a bow that Philip wouldn't have wagered gold on his being able to bend.
She, too, was appropriately epic, all long hair and dangerous weaponry, and she had the habit of speaking in dramatic, quest language, using words like "thither" and "hence", words which Philip was sure no one ever used outside of the questing context.
He had fallen back. He jogged to come alongside her again. "But if no one knows where it is, then where are we going?"
"To find it," Brianna replied.
"But how? Is this a purity of heart type quest?" Philip asked. "Because I'm really bad at those. So I don't think I can help you out."
"Somehow, I don't doubt that," Brianna said, through gritted teeth.
"So then..." Philip let his voice trail off, questioningly.
Brianna sighed, giving in. "Elemere?" she said, halting. The rest of the group did likewise. "Show your friend the map."
The elf dutifully pulled a large map from his pack and spread it out on the ground.
They all crouched around it.
"There have been rumours of strange things happening in the northern hills," Brianna said, jabbing a finger on the map in the appropriate location. "The king of your people believes that the Amulet lies hidden there."
"And that's it?" Philip said. "No magical item to sense its presence, anything like that? You guys are worse at this than I am."
Blank stares greeted this remark. At length, the dwarf grunted and held out his hand. In the palm sat a red stone, which glowed and pulsed faintly.
"Ooh, tracking device!" said Philip. "Nice one."
"It will glow brighter as we approach," said the dwarf.
"Cool," said Philip. "Well, lead on, o great leader."
Brianna didn't deign to respond.
***
The mysterious cave was everything a mysterious cave should be - dark, cold, and with weird dribbly stalactites and stalagmites, not to mention an eerie rustling that Philip was sure was rats, or bats, or something else he didn't want to encounter.
"Are you sure it's in here?" he whispered, so loudly that his voice echoed back to him off the walls of the cave.
"Yes," hissed Brianna, motioning for him to be quiet.
The Stone of Finding Stuff, as Philip had come to think of it, was still pulsing and glowing, more brightly than ever now that they were so close.
Philip still thought that this whole thing was a bit silly. It had been fun, in its own way - like a camping trip, only with fewer marshmallows and singalongs, and more axes. He had suggested bringing his lute, but the others hadn't seemed keen on the idea. He had been quick to point out to them in their second week of questing that all of this would have been a lot more fun with a few choruses of Then Quoth the Lusty Maiden to aid them on their heroic way.
As no one had tried to murder him - at least, not on that occasion - he could only assume that they had seen the logic of his position and agreed with him. It was a pity no one had yet seen the logic of turning around, going home and just telling everyone that the magical whatsit had been destroyed, since it wasn’t like anyone was going to check anyway.
But convention, Philip knew, having spent his whole life growing up surrounded by the damn stuff, had a way of exerting itself. Whatever was about to happen, he doubted it would be probable. He doubted it would even make sense. But it had to happen.
The fellowship inched through the tunnel, the only sounds their quiet footfalls and the soft dripping of water.
Philip rifled through his pack and pulled out an apple. He bit into it with a loud crunch that made the others look around in annoyance.
"Sorry," he stage whispered. "Carry on."
He munched on the apple as they crept forward. Well, the others crept. Philip was moving at more or a sort of stroll, which, as it happened, wasn't much louder than the creeping, so he figured it wouldn't make much difference, practically speaking.
At last, the tunnel opened up into a vast cavern.
Of course, there was a plinth in the middle, because whoever hid magical artefacts in this sort of place had to lack, at least in Philip's opinion, any sense of where was appropriate to hide magical artefacts. They insisted on displaying them, instead of, say, hiding them in a shoe box at the bottom of the cupboard, or just maybe destroying them before they became a threat to the general populace, instead of afterwards.
"We've found it!" breathed Eremere, running forward towards the plinth.
But of course, they were not alone.
"Stop!" cried out a deep voice, and the fellowship drew their weapons instantly.
"Who speaks?" called Brianna.
Philip looked around the room.
"My gold's on that guy," he whispered loudly, pointing, with the apple still in his hand, to the shadows at the far side of the room, where a tall, dark man lurked. He wore long, black robes and had a long, black beard. He even had a pointy hat, and a distinctly evil curl to his moustache.
"Dun dun duuuuun," he said quietly.
The Dark Wizard stepped forward, and as he did so, there was a rustling and a clinking noise, as of leather and metal, and the fellowship turned to find themselves surrounded on all sides by the Dark Wizard's henchmen.
"You will never take the Amulet!" Brianna said, raising her sword.
Philip personally thought that the odds were rather in favour of Team Bad Guy, but judged it prudent not to say anything.
The Dark Wizard gave an evil laugh. Philip wondered whether there was a special school for that. This Dark Wizard’s evil laugh was a particularly good one, with just the right amount of sneer in it, so that it really conveyed both "evil" and "contemptuous" very thoroughly. Philip couldn't help being impressed. He would have to try it out himself, when he got home. That is, if he got home, and didn't get butchered by orcs, or whatever the foul things with all the pointy weapons were.
He noticed that the others had drawn together, facing outwards, so that they formed a tight band, ready to fight off attackers. He wedged himself in between the other elves, drawing his apple corer, as it was the first thing that came to hand. He was sure he had a knife somewhere, but it was at the bottom of his pack. Well, wasn't that just always the way.
"No, the Amulet will be mine!" crowed the Dark Wizard.
"Never!" said Brianna. "We will fight, and, if needs be, we will die, so that you will never possess it."
"You? Fight me?" said the Dark Wizard. "But you are so outnumbered! And your powers could never defeat - "
Brianna sighed. And in a flash, she had drawn her cbow, and shot the Dark Wizard through the chest.
For a moment, he looked surprised, and then he slowly toppled forward onto his knees, before falling face first onto the floor of the cave.
There was silence as the others looked at Brianna in astonishment. "Sorry," she said. "But if there's one thing I hate, it's monologuing. Anyone else want to try anything?" she went on, looking around at the villainous orcs, who looked slightly less villainous and rather more sheepish in the face of their master's defeat. "I thought not," Brianna said, nodding. And with that, she stepped forward and swept the Amulet off its plinth.
***
"Nice going," Philip said, as they made their way back through the rolling green hills towards his uncle's lands. "I really liked the way you just shot him, BANG, just like that! Very smooth."
"Philip," Brianna said softly.
"Uh huh?" he said, chewing on a handful of trail mix he had found in one of the side pockets of his pack.
"If you keep trying to talk to me, I will personally make life very uncomfortable for you."
"Ooh, are you going to, like, ward me off with magic? Or shoot me with your bow? Or inventively betray me to the orcs?"
"No, I'm going to pepper spray you."
“Well,” said Philip. “Fair enough.”
They made the remainder of the journey in silence.
Author: eponine254
Fandom/Character(s)/Pairing(s): Original
Genre: Fantasy - comic
Rating: G
Words: 3137
Challenge/Prompt: fictionland #09: These Pens Were Made for Writing. Prompts 4 (Starting sentence: “Two knocks echoed through the hall. Not the habitual three, but two.”), 8 (image) and 9 (Prompt: Strange).
Warnings: None.
Summary: Some elves just have no sense of epic. Unfortunately for Philip, he's one of those elves.
Philip
Two knocks echoed through the hall. Not the habitual three, but two.
King Leonas of the elves, son of Leonid, grandson of Leoniad, frowned. He was sure he had taught everyone the knocking protocol. Three knocks was the accepted number. It wasn't that the difference bothered him, as such, but there was something much more epic about a three-knock entry.
He had even sent word to the ambassadors of the neighbouring states to make sure that their envoys knew the Great House's protocol.
"Enter," he boomed, in his deepest, most impressive voice.
The large doors of the hall swung open, allowing an appropriately epic gust of wind to rush in from the cold night outside.
"Your majesty," spoke the page at the door. "I present to you the envoy from the Land of Eregor, the land of your brother, sent to attend the Great Council this night."
Leonas's heart sank. He'd been hoping his brother would have forgotten to send anyone. His brother, Leoras, had a knack for upsetting the king. Leonas was convinced he did it on purpose.
His darkest suspicions were confirmed as he laid eyes on the envoy who had been ushered before the throne.
"Oh," he said, his voice failing to mask his disappointment. "Hello, Philip."
"Hiya, uncle!" said the young elf before him, giving the king a cheery wave.
The king could feel a headache starting.
"And so my brother deemed you the most appropriate envoy, did he?" he asked.
"Well, not exactly," said Philip, with an annoyingly cheerful tone that grated Leonas. "The funny thing is, absolutely everyone else was busy. What are the odds?"
"What indeed," murmured the king, pinching the bridge of his nose.
He knew his brother too well to read any innocent motive into his choice of envoy. His brother knew as well as Leonas himself, that the young elf was... well, useless, seemed too strong a word. But he was not the orc-hunter his eldest brother was, nor the sought-after bard his second-eldest brother was. He lacked the skill of his sisters, both of whom were excellent stateswomen, and even the appropriate sense of duty exhibited by his younger brother, who had become an ambassador to the neighbouring kingdom of Verdinia.
Everyone else was busy, indeed. Leonas knew full well that choosing the boy was a calculated insult. But, as there was nothing he could do short of declaring open warfare, the king held his tongue. He had enough on his mind without getting into a pointless fight with his younger brother.
Leoras had always been jealous that Leonas had got the crown.
Philip rocked back and forth on his heels, his hands in the pockets of his tunic. Leonas noticed with dissatisfaction that the young elf had cut his hair into some sort of style which was presumably fashionable out in the provinces, so that it stood up on top of his head like a brush.
The king was far too tired to deal with this.
"Thank you for coming, Philip," he said, with as much gravitas as he could. "You may proceed to the council chambers. You are," - he suppressed the urge to add "of course" - "the last to arrive."
"Thanks, uncle!" said Philip, grinning at the king. "Got any snacks?"
"There will be a banquet upon completion of the Great Council," the king said. "Now please... proceed."
He watched as the elf sauntered casually towards the doors which led into the council chamber.
The king's headache was already worse. It was going to be a very long evening.
***
The Great Council sat assembled, the empty chair at last filled by Philip, who was looking around the circle as though hoping to see someone he knew. The rest of the council were solemn, formally attired in robes of rich colours, sitting in silence as they waited for the king to speak.
The king cleared his throat, loudly. Philip had started chatting to the envoy from Birigali, an attractive human woman who looked more and more murderous the longer the young elf was allowed to persist.
The king cleared his throat, and spoke. "As you know, I have gathered you here from afar to discuss the issue of..." he paused for dramatic effect, and to make sure everyone was paying attention. His skill with dramatic effect was only one of the reasons he had been considered more suitable king material than his brother, who had never quite forgiven him for it. "...the Amulet."
He made sure to capitalise the first letter.
The council was appropriately hushed.
Except for Philip, of course, who chose that moment to sneeze. Even the boy's involuntary functions had no sense of timing. The king ignored him, and carried on.
"The time has come for action. The Amulet must be found and destroyed, that the Dark Wizard Griflingmead may never take hold of it, and, with it, devastate our land. I call for volunteers to undertake this dangerous and difficult quest. I cannot promise that many dangers do not await you in the lands beyond this kingdom. But I must impress upon you that all our lives depend on the willingness of these volunteers to undertake this task, lest our lands once again fall under the spell of the Darkness."
Again, the king made sure the initial capital was made explicit.
The council fell into discussion. To the king's relief, his nephew was silent as the conversation passed back and forth, with the various envoys nominating themselves, or their friends, or their enemies for the task.
At last, something like a resolution was reached. With a lot of symbolic offering of various weapons and talents, a band was assembled.
Before the king stood six of the finest warriors the world had to offer. He surveyed them, approvingly. "You are brave," he said. "Your willingness to undertake this task will not go unrewarded."
He was just formulating a blessing, or some sort of kingly dismissal, when Philip put up his hand.
The king pretended not to notice. But Philip coughed significantly, and started bouncing up and down in his chair, trying to get his uncle's attention.
When he could no longer convincingly pretend not to have noticed, the king turned his attention to his nephew. "Yes?" he spake, in a kingly manner.
"Can I go too, uncle?" Philip asked. "Father specifically wanted it. He said he would take it as an issue of the greatest honour if you would do him the... honour... of... honouring - ok, I think I've got it a bit mixed up, but you know what I mean - if I could go."
"Of course he did," the king said. Apparently his brother hoped that the quest would be a very dangerous one indeed. "Unfortunately, brother-son, I cannot allow such a thing. Here before me you see the anointed - "
The page beside the king's throne coughed meaningfully. The king inclined his head towards him.
"Your majesty, I must needs inform you that the envoys who are not sent upon the quest will remain here, in your House, until such time as news is available for them to convey to their homelands."
The king looked at Philip, who was now grinning at him in what he clearly thought was a winning way.
It did not take him long to make up his mind. "But I cannot dishonour my brother. Philip, son of Leoras, I invite you to join this band, nay, this fellowship, on their quest for the Amulet."
"Awesome," Philip said. "Thanks, uncle!"
The king felt slightly guilty for the sudden visions of dragon ambushes which presented themselves, not unwelcomely, to his mind.
***
They set off at dawn the very next morning, the small band of adventurers venturing out into the world in search of the Amulet.
Philip jogged to keep up with the pretty human female he'd been talking to at the council meeting yesterday. Her name, she'd yielded reluctantly, was Brianna, and she was in charge. Philip suspected she didn't like him very much, but he was sure his good looks and charm had to triumph in the end.
"So, we're going to find the Amulet?" he asked, trotting alongside her as she paced with long strides over the grassland.
"Yes," she said.
"And then destroy it?"
"Yes."
"To defeat the Dark Wizard?"
"Yes."
"Oh, ok."
Brianna stopped and looked at him. "What?" she said.
"No, nothing," Philip said thoughtfully. "It's just that... Well, you'd think that since the Dark Wizard doesn't have it either, we could just leave it alone and everything would be fine."
"No we couldn't," Brianna snapped, resuming her pace.
"Why?"
She didn't bother to dignify this with a response.
Philip had always been bad at epic. It was his most obvious failing. You just couldn't be an elven prince in a land threatened by an Evil Dark Wizard without having at least a basic sense of epic, but Philip had never got his head around it. He blamed his mother. She, after all, had been responsible for naming him "Philip". He felt that a good, strong name, like his eldest brother, Lothar, would have served him better. "Philip" just didn't roll off the tongue in the same way. It certainly wasn't the sort of name for great ballads or epic quests.
And yet here he was. The sun was shining, the pretty girl had talked to him almost politely, and he still had a pack full of food. It could be worse. To be honest, he wasn't entirely fazed whether they found the Amulet or not. It seemed perfectly logical that, if it turned out to be impossible to find, they could at least be fairly certain that the Dark Wizard wouldn't find it either, and they could all go home for tea.
He looked around at his assembled, grim-faced companions. They certainly were a serious-looking lot, Philip thought. There was the wizard - beard and pointy hat and all - two elves Philip was sure he had met at a family reunion once, one dwarf, presumably for affirmative action reasons, and a second human warrior, laden with axes and knives and all manner of pointy things. Philip thought that he must have put quite a lot of effort into looking the part of a hero. Philip suspected that the man knew this too, because he kept squinting heroically into the distance or heroically sharpening an axe or heroically puffing out his chest. Brianna was a warrior too, bearing a bow that Philip wouldn't have wagered gold on his being able to bend.
She, too, was appropriately epic, all long hair and dangerous weaponry, and she had the habit of speaking in dramatic, quest language, using words like "thither" and "hence", words which Philip was sure no one ever used outside of the questing context.
He had fallen back. He jogged to come alongside her again. "But if no one knows where it is, then where are we going?"
"To find it," Brianna replied.
"But how? Is this a purity of heart type quest?" Philip asked. "Because I'm really bad at those. So I don't think I can help you out."
"Somehow, I don't doubt that," Brianna said, through gritted teeth.
"So then..." Philip let his voice trail off, questioningly.
Brianna sighed, giving in. "Elemere?" she said, halting. The rest of the group did likewise. "Show your friend the map."
The elf dutifully pulled a large map from his pack and spread it out on the ground.
They all crouched around it.
"There have been rumours of strange things happening in the northern hills," Brianna said, jabbing a finger on the map in the appropriate location. "The king of your people believes that the Amulet lies hidden there."
"And that's it?" Philip said. "No magical item to sense its presence, anything like that? You guys are worse at this than I am."
Blank stares greeted this remark. At length, the dwarf grunted and held out his hand. In the palm sat a red stone, which glowed and pulsed faintly.
"Ooh, tracking device!" said Philip. "Nice one."
"It will glow brighter as we approach," said the dwarf.
"Cool," said Philip. "Well, lead on, o great leader."
Brianna didn't deign to respond.
***
The mysterious cave was everything a mysterious cave should be - dark, cold, and with weird dribbly stalactites and stalagmites, not to mention an eerie rustling that Philip was sure was rats, or bats, or something else he didn't want to encounter.
"Are you sure it's in here?" he whispered, so loudly that his voice echoed back to him off the walls of the cave.
"Yes," hissed Brianna, motioning for him to be quiet.
The Stone of Finding Stuff, as Philip had come to think of it, was still pulsing and glowing, more brightly than ever now that they were so close.
Philip still thought that this whole thing was a bit silly. It had been fun, in its own way - like a camping trip, only with fewer marshmallows and singalongs, and more axes. He had suggested bringing his lute, but the others hadn't seemed keen on the idea. He had been quick to point out to them in their second week of questing that all of this would have been a lot more fun with a few choruses of Then Quoth the Lusty Maiden to aid them on their heroic way.
As no one had tried to murder him - at least, not on that occasion - he could only assume that they had seen the logic of his position and agreed with him. It was a pity no one had yet seen the logic of turning around, going home and just telling everyone that the magical whatsit had been destroyed, since it wasn’t like anyone was going to check anyway.
But convention, Philip knew, having spent his whole life growing up surrounded by the damn stuff, had a way of exerting itself. Whatever was about to happen, he doubted it would be probable. He doubted it would even make sense. But it had to happen.
The fellowship inched through the tunnel, the only sounds their quiet footfalls and the soft dripping of water.
Philip rifled through his pack and pulled out an apple. He bit into it with a loud crunch that made the others look around in annoyance.
"Sorry," he stage whispered. "Carry on."
He munched on the apple as they crept forward. Well, the others crept. Philip was moving at more or a sort of stroll, which, as it happened, wasn't much louder than the creeping, so he figured it wouldn't make much difference, practically speaking.
At last, the tunnel opened up into a vast cavern.
Of course, there was a plinth in the middle, because whoever hid magical artefacts in this sort of place had to lack, at least in Philip's opinion, any sense of where was appropriate to hide magical artefacts. They insisted on displaying them, instead of, say, hiding them in a shoe box at the bottom of the cupboard, or just maybe destroying them before they became a threat to the general populace, instead of afterwards.
"We've found it!" breathed Eremere, running forward towards the plinth.
But of course, they were not alone.
"Stop!" cried out a deep voice, and the fellowship drew their weapons instantly.
"Who speaks?" called Brianna.
Philip looked around the room.
"My gold's on that guy," he whispered loudly, pointing, with the apple still in his hand, to the shadows at the far side of the room, where a tall, dark man lurked. He wore long, black robes and had a long, black beard. He even had a pointy hat, and a distinctly evil curl to his moustache.
"Dun dun duuuuun," he said quietly.
The Dark Wizard stepped forward, and as he did so, there was a rustling and a clinking noise, as of leather and metal, and the fellowship turned to find themselves surrounded on all sides by the Dark Wizard's henchmen.
"You will never take the Amulet!" Brianna said, raising her sword.
Philip personally thought that the odds were rather in favour of Team Bad Guy, but judged it prudent not to say anything.
The Dark Wizard gave an evil laugh. Philip wondered whether there was a special school for that. This Dark Wizard’s evil laugh was a particularly good one, with just the right amount of sneer in it, so that it really conveyed both "evil" and "contemptuous" very thoroughly. Philip couldn't help being impressed. He would have to try it out himself, when he got home. That is, if he got home, and didn't get butchered by orcs, or whatever the foul things with all the pointy weapons were.
He noticed that the others had drawn together, facing outwards, so that they formed a tight band, ready to fight off attackers. He wedged himself in between the other elves, drawing his apple corer, as it was the first thing that came to hand. He was sure he had a knife somewhere, but it was at the bottom of his pack. Well, wasn't that just always the way.
"No, the Amulet will be mine!" crowed the Dark Wizard.
"Never!" said Brianna. "We will fight, and, if needs be, we will die, so that you will never possess it."
"You? Fight me?" said the Dark Wizard. "But you are so outnumbered! And your powers could never defeat - "
Brianna sighed. And in a flash, she had drawn her cbow, and shot the Dark Wizard through the chest.
For a moment, he looked surprised, and then he slowly toppled forward onto his knees, before falling face first onto the floor of the cave.
There was silence as the others looked at Brianna in astonishment. "Sorry," she said. "But if there's one thing I hate, it's monologuing. Anyone else want to try anything?" she went on, looking around at the villainous orcs, who looked slightly less villainous and rather more sheepish in the face of their master's defeat. "I thought not," Brianna said, nodding. And with that, she stepped forward and swept the Amulet off its plinth.
***
"Nice going," Philip said, as they made their way back through the rolling green hills towards his uncle's lands. "I really liked the way you just shot him, BANG, just like that! Very smooth."
"Philip," Brianna said softly.
"Uh huh?" he said, chewing on a handful of trail mix he had found in one of the side pockets of his pack.
"If you keep trying to talk to me, I will personally make life very uncomfortable for you."
"Ooh, are you going to, like, ward me off with magic? Or shoot me with your bow? Or inventively betray me to the orcs?"
"No, I'm going to pepper spray you."
“Well,” said Philip. “Fair enough.”
They made the remainder of the journey in silence.