Alfred and Merin rode at the head of a small group of men. They kept their pace steady, and passed league after league of parched landscape. But life was coming back to it, as groups of refugees returned to their homes and began the drudging work of repairing the orcish mayhem. The rode to the northwest, and the sky was half covered in clouds. Hours passed in slow movement. The roads they traveled were in good condition, but their party frequently had to stop at broken bridges, or to help clear the rubble of collapsed buildings. They stopped in the early afternoon at a small village, and filled their waterskins, as well as had a short snack. Afterwards they continued.

Dusk came faster than anyone expected it. The night caught Alfred and Merin slightly ahead of their escort in a small glade, near a cold brook. The captain signaled to make camp, and Alfred and Merin dismounted. A fire was lit, and one of the soldiers made dinner for all, a stew of some kind. After the meal, the watch was set. Alfred volunteered for watch and was assigned the shift just before dawn. He then lay down to sleep. His mind was already racing ahead, trying to figure out what awaits him in Ebening, now that he was so near his goal. Alfred was dreaming. In his dream, he was walking in a cave, walking on a ledge over a lake of fire. Someone was yelling, and with a start Alfred realized it was him. On the other end of the cave was a small figure, huddled in the red glow atop a small rock ledge just above the gaping fires. Alfred struggled to cross the ledge so he could help the figure, but he was too slow. With the exasperating slowness of a dream, he could but watch helplessly as the figure tried to rise up, and lost its footing on the ledge. Then Alfred screamed in pain and anguish, and reached over the fires for it. At that moment a hand awoke him.

Suddenly awakening from a nightmare, Alfred stared at the soldier's face for a moment, finally hearing that it was time for him to take his watch. Nodding slowly, he rose, still feeling a little confused. Already the experience was waning and disappearing from his mind, just as the campfire died down. Alfred followed the soldier to his post near a majestic oak tree on the roadside of the camp, and sat there to stand guard. The other man quickly went to sleep, leaving Alfred to his devices. Sitting under the huge tree in the dark, alone, made Alfred think. His dream was already just an impression, and something, something about the fires he had seen, he could almost think they were alive and full of dark intent, how they danced in front of his mind. But night was nearing its end. The few stars visible between the clouds slowly faded as dawn came quietly. A chill breeze started to blow, and the clouds moved faster across the increasingly grey-white sky. Alfred stood up and faced the eastern horizon. First shades of light appeared there, and grew to a light purple band low in the sky. Light grew in intensity, and colors returned to the world around him. Purples turned to rosy hues, and then grew to orange as dawn neared. Colors streaked the sky, and above Alfred sky grew deep blue. Suddenly, light burst through the barriers and spread itself forward on the plains in a glorious avalanche of light and warmth. Standing tall in the chill of dawn, Alfred watched the birth of a new day on Rakhseth.

Soon the warm bodies back in the camp stirred. As sun rose in the sky, Alfred aroused his company, and woke Merin up. Dark visions of the previous night dissipated from Alfred's mind as he was surrounded by a warmth of a new day on the plains. Soon the breakfast was made, and the captain gave the word even as Alfred and Merin mounted their steeds:

-It is time to move. Forward, and march, all!

The group moved together, and so they started their second day of journey. Now they were nearing the borders of Vakkap, and terrain began to climb once more into low hills. North of them, the Misty Mountains stood in all of their glory, devoid of their mist at this hour. Alfred remarked on the beauty of the mountains to Merin, and he agreed. Never before had they seen the Misty Mountains without their shroud, and they rose toweringly into the sky, seemingly defying the laws of nature. Leagues drove on. Now the trees began to retreat again, and the grass grew more gray and dry, as they climbed from the fertile vales of Vakkap into the hilly landscape of upper valley of Froas. Air grew colder, and slowly all signs of human habitation disappeared. They had passed the last village several hours ago, and were now climbing the last hill of Vakkap.

When the company reached the top, they found a solitary stone house and small watchtower. The border outpost was empty, abandoned when the orcs broke through from the north. Now the captain assigned the men to occupy the outpost, and then went to speak with Alfred and Merin.

-My sirs, my liege had ordered me to escort you to this point and then man this outpost. From this point you travel alone. Before you leave, please let me provide you with some supplies, as well as travel advice, for the lands north of here and barren and dangerous.

Merin looked at Alfred, who nodded, and answered:

-We shall be most grateful for your generosity, sir. Thank you again for escorting us to here.

The captain shrugged, and then said:

-Even if it wasn't in my direct orders, I'd have done so. But now, fill your waterskins in the house well, and take these rations - he said as he handed them several military rations, small packages of dried meat pies that can feed a man for a week - with you. I have but one piece of travel advice to give you; all bridges on the river are gone, and if you seek passage across, go to the fords of Hamsen. I hear the raftsman there is still ferrying people over the river.

Alfred took the packages and answered the captain:

-Thank you again, sir. I hope I will see you again. Till then, farewell!

Merin repeated the farewells, and then the captain retreated into the watchtower to help set again the guard logs and other necessities of border outpost. Merin went shortly to the well standing near the house, and filled the waterskins to the top with the clear cold water. Then Alfred and Merin both mounted their horses, and set out to follow a winding road between the hills to the west.

Hills rose and fell, but the cold only got worse, not better, as they went. The sun started to drop into the afternoon, and a chill wind started to blow. Short trees hid between the hill ridges, protected from the cold, dry winds. The grass was longer and greener in the valleys, but the leaves were already turning into reds, browns and yellows, as autumn started its inexorable walk to the white death of winter. As cold grew worse, Alfred tightened his cloak around him, and Merin did likewise. Soon the sun dropped below the hill ridges surrounding them, and the wind grew in strength. Temperature dropped rapidly with the coming of the night, and water in the bottoms of small valleys between the hills started to freeze. Soon it became so cold that Alfred's breath turned to white steam. Light receded into the night, and gray clouds passed overhead quickly. A league later, Merin stopped his horse in a small valley near a frozen pool. Alfred led both horses into the protection of the southern side of the ridge, and then started to gather firewood. Merin broke the frozen crust of the pool, and tasted the water. It was icingly cold, but otherwise drinkable. The only tree in this small valley was a small fir with a top cut off by some bird when it was much younger. Several small brushes clustered around the tree, huddling for warmth. Alfred soon came back with some very dry branches and twigs. There wasn't much fuel around here to burn, but it was dry as a stone, and easy to light despite the freezing temperatures. While Merin lit the fire below a large rock, Alfred fed and watered the horses. Then they both sat down near the fire to share some dried meat and Vakkap rations, as well as a mug of hot brew Merin made of herbs he had in his pouch. Wind howled above them, but their small pocket of tuniverse was warm and inviting. As the night set, Alfred went to sleep with Merin standing first watch.

Night was over the land. Hours passed in the chill silence of the hills. The wind slowed down and disappeared. Merin rose from his watch, and woke Alfred up. He then lay to sleep. Alfred rose and stretched his muscles. The cold was abated a little by the lack of the wind. The clouds covered the dark sky. Darkness covered the hills. The fire was only burning by embers now. Alfred sat down and covered himself with a blanket. This was going to be a long night.

Not so far away, and only about an hour earlier, two small figures were stealthily walking up the hill ridge. Their gray cloaks made them almost impossible to see in darkness, and their quick, silent movements made them seem almost ghostlike. A score strides or so in front of them a much larger company was trotting the hills. About two dozen large goblins were preying on wary travelers. They moved quickly, but their iron-shod shoes clanked loudly in comparison to the silent boots of two cloaked figures. The goblins seemed unaware of their presence. Clutching their cloaks closer, goblins hurried on their feet, occasionally cursing the cold, evil Men, dumb Dwarves, and malicious Elves, as well as anyone else in the world, for they were renown for their foul curses. Suddenly, the leader stopped dead in his tracks. He smelled fire, and meat ahead. He lowered his body and carefully peeked into the valley ahead of him, grinning noiselessly when he saw a lone figure standing watch by the fire. Moving his palm across his neck in a decisive stroke, he signaled to his companions that he had found dinner. The goblins then dispersed and started to slowly creep into the valley, coming closer and closer to their intended victims.

Alfred was drowsy and very comfortable under the warm blanket. The night was quiet, and not a sound was to be heard. He thought of falling asleep, but he just stared into the sky instead. Behind him, a large goblin was crawling on his belly with a wicked knife-blade in his hand, his face grinning widely. He was but two steps from Alfred's back when he rose suddenly to stab Alfred in the back. That was his first and last mistake.

Alfred heard a rustle behind him, and turned around just in time to see a goblin swinging down to stab him. But just before the blade met his chest, a stone came rushing from the darkness and hit the goblin's head. The goblin collapsed noiselessly on the ground. For a moment there was nothing but silence in the air. Then, seemingly from everywhere, goblin cries broke out as about two dozen of them charged Alfred and Merin, screaming and yelling. Merin rose from his sleeping bag while Alfred unsheathed his sword, smiling grimly. Just as the first goblin came about to strike him, another stone came rushing from the dark and killed the foe on the spot. Alfred was puzzled for a moment, but then goblins were about him, and he didn't have time to think. Already one was swinging a wicked axe down his neck. Alfred parried the blow, crouched down and stabbed the goblin in mid-body. The fiend screeched and fell to the ground, clutching his wound. Another one swung his scimitar on Alfred from the left, and Alfred was forced to fall to the ground to deflect the blow. Standing above him, the goblin brought down his blade, but Alfred rolled to the side, escaping the sharp edge by a mere inch. From a roll Alfred stood on his feet, and swung his blade on the goblin's head, and it rolled off neatly. The sword shone with a dazzling white light. Behind him, Alfred heard Merin dispatch several more goblins. He was about to help him, but then he heard a different battle cry on the other side of the valley. Quickly shouting to Merin, and hearing his assurance, he ran for the valley ridge and the cry he heard, while Merin faced off two ugly clubs and a large axe, all wielded by the foes of his people.

Alfred arrived to the edge of the valley, and found two cloaked figures fighting for their lives against a dozen goblins. One of them was lying on his back, and a goblin was preparing to slay him, but Alfred cried out and rushed the goblin. Distracted by his attack, the remaining ones disengaged the other figure. Alfred brought his sword onto his foes' blade. Metal crashed on metal, but the goblin's sword broke, while Alfred swept with his blade from side to side, almost slicing the enemy in half. The small man rose from the ground, and as he did, his hood moved, revealing his face. It was a halfling! Alfred froze for a second, trying to fathom this discovery, but the halfling instead pushed him aside just in time to stab a charging goblin. Alfred quickly looked about and said:

-Thank you, halfling. But now we ought to hurry and help your companion. Come, let our blades sing together!

The halfling answered, already rushing to his friend's aid:

-Aye, let's go!

They both moved to the other end of the ridge, where four goblins had the other figure cornered. They were coming in for the kill the Alfred charged them from behind. For a moment it seemed they were going to fight, but Alfred blocked their blows and gushed his sword into one of them, making them flee. They screamed in panic and tried to flee. The other halfling got one from the back, while the first one shot one of the escaping ones with his sling. The goblin fell like a rock. The last one was already speeding out of the sling's range, but he didn't get far. An arrow sped from the valley, hitting him straight in the back, and he fell lifeless onto the ground.

Merin appeared from the valley, carrying his bow. The halflings looked at each other, then hugged. Then they lowered their hoods and stepped forward, speaking clearly:

-Dear sir, you seem to have done us a great favor, by helping us dispatch those worrisome goblins. Thank you very much, kind sir. Allow me to introduce myself and my companion, then. I am Banion FastFoot, - he bowed to Alfred - and this is Rusty StrongHilt. -The other one bowed as well. They were both small fellows, no bigger than a ten-year-old, but that was normal for their kind. They wore fine gray cloaks and good traveling clothes, and held sharp shortswords in their hands. Their slings were tied to their belts, and they wore sandals on their feet. Banion was smaller, and had brown hair, and Rusty was a little taller and heavier, and had blond hair, unusual for a halfling. Banion then spoke again:

-Thank you again for your kind assistance. If you do not mind, we'd be on our way now. - and both halflings made as if to leave right away. Curious, Alfred wanted to speak with them at greater length, so he said even as they turned away:

-Wait, please. I would like to converse with you more. Travelers are rare in this country, and I've never seen a halfling before.

The halflings seemed to be considering this. Alfred continued:

-Also, you haven't been properly introduced to myself and my companion. Do not forget, you helped us too, and we are bound to return the favor. - This notion seemed to make them think more, and they started to turn back. - I propose we celebrate our victory with a feast. What do you say?

At the notion of food the eyes of the halflings shone brightly, and suddenly they rushed back to Alfred, speaking hurriedly:

-But of course, sir, we would we very happy to partake in a celebration feast sir, wouldn't we be, Rusty?

The other one answered:

-Sure we would, most assuredly so.

They were both looking pretty hungry. At this time Merin caught up with them, putting down his bow. His eyebrows went up in surprise when he saw the halflings standing next to Alfred, but he said nothing. Alfred formally introduced himself and Merin to them:

-I am Alfred son of Eyral, and this is Merin the Hunter of the Elves. Thank you for helping us in battle. - The halflings bowed. - And these are Banion FastFoot and Rusty StrongHilt.

Rusty and Banion bowed again and said in unison:

-We are very pleased to make your acquaintance.

Alfred then smiled, thinking of the things he will ask of his guests tonight, and spoke:

-Now that we are all familiar with each other, may we proceed to the matteof the feast... - Alfred graciously pointed to the camp and the fire, and Rusty and Banion followed. Merin came in behind.

In a minute they were back at the camp. Alfred stirred the fire and took out some dried rabbit meat, as well as his dry herbs from the pouch. Merin put down his bow, and threw some more wood into the fire. He then went to fetch some water into the pot. Alfred put the meat and the herb into the pot, and put it over the fire. Soon it was bubbling merrily, and the small group began to relax. Alfred collected the bodies of their foes in a heap in the valley, and set large stones upon them, checking them first for loot. These goblins weren't well equipped, and it was obvious they had traveled long and hard on short rations. In short, a more miserable, sorry bunch was hard to imagine. Feeling a little sorry for them, Alfred joined his companions at the fire. He soon engaged the halflings into telling their histories, which they were happy to speak of. They were from hills south of Nippurcity, on the south end of the Gangrel Sea. It seems they have traveled to this land in search of revenge on the band of goblins they defeated just hours before. The band raided their village as a part of a large goblin force, and then disappeared into the ground. These two halflings followed them for almost two years below ground, traveling all around Rakhseth in the process. They saw the sweltering jungles in the south, visited Crystal Lake, traveled through the Vampire Kingdom, crossed the great river of Daoben, and finally caught up with the fiends here, in the cold plains north of Vakkap. Their story was very fascinating, and Merin was entranced as well. They were barely thirty summers of age, but they had already traveled more than most of people Alfred and Merin knew. Still, they were very merry, cheerful, and like children in many ways. Gingerly enjoying the stew, they related at length the certain aspects of their adventures, namely the food and the lodging, as well as all the local gossip they could gather as they went.

Hours passed and a light grew in the eastern sky. Stars faded as the sun rose into morning. The fire was getting cold, and the stew was eaten. Their stories coming to an end, the halflings cheerily asked to join Alfred and Merin on their trek to Ebening, because they heard of the good food and lodging there. Alfred laughed because all these two small people wanted of life currently was a nice supper and a warm bed. No worries, no concerns, no problems, their spirits were unconquerable by grief. Alfred was glad that such happiness was still about the world. Everyone feeling very sleepy, they dropped to their sleeping bags just as the sun shone over the ridge overlooking them. The night was over, and the light was bright, at least for the moment.

Alfred woke up in the afternoon. It was warmer then yesterday, but still it was cold. He woke up Merin and the halflings, who gingerly inquired about a meal. They quickly had some dry food, and then each halfling sat behind Alfred and Merin on their mounts, and they were on their way. Soon the small valley was behind them, and they passed league after league of hills, one after another, in an endless succession of gray ridges. Hours followed one another as sun rose in the sky. The small group stopped once around noon for a gulp of water and some dry fruit, but then continued their seemingly endless trek. The hills were barren of life, and only valleys showed any sign that nature was still alive. Winter was coming, however, and trees had already started to shed their leaves in preparation for the cold and the snow. It was cold even on the sunlit ridges facing south, and the dark northern ridges had frost on them. The tops of hills were covered in stones, gray granite, the hardest rock that withstood all the hardships of time and weather. Wind swept these hills, and no shepherd had his cottage here. The small group traveled steadily westward on the road that gradually dwindled to nothing more than a trail, leading into the empty hills. The sun fell back to the horizon and gradually sunk below it. League after league of stone and emptiness, Alfred was deep in thought. They were approaching the mighty riverbed of Froas, and there was a serious chance that they won't be able to cross it. Froas was tranversable at many points in its lower flow, because there it flowed slowly, and it was shallow. But here its turbulent waters were more likely to drag the unwary traveler into the depths of his watery grave. There were only several places where you could cross Froas in the summer, and with the coming of autumn rains the river was overflowing with dark waters. The fords of Hamsen were the only place where one could hope to cross in wintertime, and the old ferryman there was as reliable as they get. But something was worrying Alfred; the orc army had to cross the river somewhere, and even they did it at the logical place, the bridge, still, who knows if the ferryman was still there, if he was alive. Thus Alfred was worried.

The small party again made camp when the sun went down below the western hills. The sky cleared and the moon shone over the gray landscape. Stars outlined the Misty Mountains, huge and looming, to the north. The party made camp at the origin of a small brook in a long valley facing east. There were no trees here, but a large bush provided fuel for the fire as well as some protection from the wind. Merin lit the fire, while Alfred prepared supper. The halflings helped by going out into the valley and finding several edible roots, which Alfred added into the beef soup. They ate in silence, and the sky was above them. After diner, halflings continued the stories about their adventures. They had crossed many lands, and it seemed that it was sheer luck that brought them this far from their home. They had almost made a full circle in their travels, and now they planned to cross Froas after spending the harsh winter in Ebening, and then proceed to a port in the western plains to catch a ship to ferry them across the Gangrel Sea into their homeland. Alfred was somehow glad to hear they were coming home, because for all their adventures all they wanted now was to come home and rest in one's own bed, among one's own kind. Slowly the conversation ended, and everyone prepared for the night. Temperatures plummeted, and the brook began to freeze where it flowed slowly. The wind howled, hushing any sound they made. Merin took the first watch, and Banion the second one. Tonight Alfred finally got a full night's sleep. The rest of the night was uneventful. In the morning, Alfred woke up to a frozen world lit by sunshine. After a short breakfast, halflings scattered the ashes of last night's fire, and then mounted themselves behind Alfred and Merin. Once again they were on their way.

One league after another, they approached the great river of Froas. The hills now dwindled in size, and gradually lost their sharp ridges. It was a cold and sunny autumn day. Traces of life and vegetation returned to the valleys they passed, and grass was still green here. As they went, they also noticed that the cold abated a little, but it was still below freezing. The air was crisp and fresh, and the mists swirled in the Mountains on their horizon. The sight of the frozen plains all around reminded Alfred of the season. The summer was over, and winter was fast approaching. Winter, and snows; if he arrived to the passes leading to Ebening too late, they might be buried in snow and impassable. Today when Merin asked where they will stop for noon-meal, Alfred replied that they are not stopping. Nodding carefully, Merin agreed. The halflings were quiet and said nothing.

Afternoon hours brought dark clouds on the western horizon. Slowly they crawled over the sky, hiding the blue sky from sight. The air grew colder again, and achieved a certain metallic quality. The horses smelled snow. Seeing a storm was coming, Alfred hurried his steed. Both Merin and he passed their horses from walk to slow run. Step by step, they came closer to the fluvial plain of the river. But the storm was catching up them fast. Already half of the sky was covered in dark air masses, carrying snow from the ocean far in the west. Hours passed as the hills grew smaller and more covered with grasses, shrubs, and an occasional tree or two. The sun set just as the last of the sky was covered in clouds. Deciding not to stop for camp, the company kept on. Snow started to fall, slowly and in small, beautiful crystals at first. But as they approached their goal, the river, the wind grew steadily, and the snow grew more dense, obscuring vision and impairing progress. Gusts of wind whipped the faces with sharp cold, and everyone drew their hoods tighter over their heads. The trail they were following was lost in the storm. White crystals swirled all around Alfred, and he struck straight westward, or at least in the direction he thought was west. The horses, however, could smell water and pulled him aside instead. Trusting his mount's instincts, he allowed it to go on its own. They passed into the storm and disappeared in it.

The ground started to go down sharply, and all around him, Alfred could see the fleeting images of brushes and trees in the snowstorm. The blizzard increased in intensity, but Alfred felt they were very near water somehow. As it were, some score of steps later they heard the rushing waters of Froas. Merin slowed his horse, and Alfred did likewise. Soon they spotted the rushing waters in front of them, and stopped. They had come to the fords of Hamsen, where they were to cross the mighty river. Stepping near the rushing waters, Alfred wandered whether they were upstream or downstream from the raftsman's spot. Thinking the crossing was south of them, he turned downstream, but Rusty yelled to him over the din of the storm to go north. Deciding to trust the halfling's instincts, he instead turned upstream. Every step was harder than the next, but few minutes later Merin spotted the big stump with the bell tied to it. The stump was almost covered in snow, but Merin noticed the glint of silver in the storm and led Alfred to it. Here they both dismounted, but they directed the halflings to stay seated on the horsebacks. Alfred pushed off the newest layer of crystal-white snow, feelings the cold numb his fingers. He then held the bell up to the river below and rung it twice.

The clear sound carried well across the water. Alfred waited a minute, and then rung the bell two more times. Now there was nothing to do but to turn your back to the storm and wait. On the other side of the river an old man pulled his cloak tighter against the wind, and untied a large black raft. The planks glistened with drops of cold water. The clear bay in the river was already freezing on the surface, and the man had to kick the raft several times before it got free of icy fingers that held it. Now he stepped on the raft, and pulled a long plank on top of it, pushing himself into the river. As the flow took him in, he laboriously started putting down the plank into the water, and pushed the craft across the troubled waters of Froas. Soon he cleared the mainstream, and approached the opposite shore, where the huddled figures awaited in the blizzard. As he anchored the raft next to the stump where Alfred and Merin stood, he spoke in an old, tired voice:

-Greetings, travelers. I am the raftsman of the fords of Hamsen. Passage is a silver piece per person. Come aboard if you wish to go across.

Merin motioned and led two horses with halflings on the raft. Alfred thanked the raftsman and paid him four silver pieces. After the boarded, the raftsman again pushed the craft off the shore, back into the river.

Now they were pushing against the current. The old man gave both Alfred and Merin a plank to help him push, and they silently nodded. The river was rushing large waves of cold water and foam, especially in the center of the flow. The ride got bumpy, as the raft avoided icebergs that began to flow downstream from the frozen origin of Froas in the Misty Mountains. Tension grew on the boat as the icebergs grew more numerous. Suddenly, one of the larger pieces struck the craft. The raft rocked violently. Alfred's horse neighed in terror as it lost its footing on the raft, and slipped into the dark, gushing waters. Banion tried to jump of the horse, but instead slid into the water. Yelling and steadying the other horse, Merin was busy evading another iceberg. But Alfred's hands were free, and he knew just what to do. He jumped into the great river without hesitation.

The water was cold, so much that immediately Alfred felt himself grow cold to the bone. He swam strongly against the current. It was hard to raise his head above the waves to see the halfling and his horse. Suddenly, an idea sprung to his head. Pushing himself under the water, he invoked the night-vision spell. As the murky waters began to clear, he now saw the red glow coming from his right, little more upstream. It was his horse, and the halfling, holding onto the saddle for his dear life. Gasping for air, Alfred swam back to the surface and now headed to his right. Struggling with the current, he approached the horse and the halfling. His steed was swimming mightily but was afraid and had lost its sense of direction. Alfred caught onto it, and calmed the horse and Banion. Now, shouting for Banion to hear, he yelled him to take hold of the horse's reins. Once Banion somehow climbed onto the horseback, Alfred started to pull towards the near shore. As they came out of the mainstream of the river, the waves grew smaller and it was easier to swim. Having lost the raft in the river, Alfred hurried ashore lest he be washed out leagues lower then the ford. Now he finally approached the bank, and there his horse climbed it and stood again on solid ground. Banion, shaken and dripping, then helped Alfred climb up too. The snow was swirling all around them, but Alfred knew they were downstream of the ford so they hurried upstream, in the northern direction. Luckily, they were no more than a score paces or so from the raftsman's dwelling. Soon they saw Merin riding to meet them, sighing with relief as he found them, and then escorting them back to the wooden house where the old raftsman lived. It was a humble wooden cabin, with a small extension for his raft, but smoke was pouring out of its chimney, and warm yellow lights danced in its windows. Opening the door, the raftsman led them in with a care on his face. Once they were in, Merin went out again to calm the horses and lead them into the stable, while Alfred sat down near the fire to change. The raftsman brought a set of dry clothes, obviously his own, and said nothing when Alfred thanked him for them.

Soon the kettle was merrily whistling above the fireplace, and Alfred and Banion and Merin and Rusty sat down with the old raftsman to drink hot tea and exchange stories just as Men did since time untold when the White Death was about the land. The snows fell on and on and the blizzard blew outside, but for the moment a small pocket of warmth and goodness was there, amidst the cold and death, and the small company rejoiced. They had now crossed the great river of Froas, and they were close to the magnificent Misty Mountains, and their goal; Ebening lay ahead, hidden in the foothills of the great mountains.