Deep in the walls of the tangle Edgar tossed and turned in the dark.  His dreams, usually solid as the rock which cocooned him, had been flaky as of late.  He absolutely hated that.  With a groan and a grumble he finally woke shaking away the flighty dreams and drawing strength in the solidity of the rock around him.  

At first he paid no attention to the whispers, the raspy words that filtered through his mind, the rocks were always talking to him since no one else ever listened.  He stuffed a piece of moldy cheese in his mouth, swallowed without tasting, and pulled on his worn clothing in a sort of auto-pilot.  It wasn't until he was half out of the wall that the words filtered to his consciouness.

He stood there, one leg sticking out of rock into the empty path of the Tangle beyond, listening as the gossip flowed to him.   It didn't make a lot of sense.  Shifting.  Death.  Slavery.  Stone rises.  What the hell did that mean.  Stone didn't die or rise, it was stone, it's stability was its greatest virtue.  And stone didn't have morals.  What did it care for slavery?   He puzzled over it for some time before giving up for now.  There was one bit of information, however, that was plain as a granite slab, the heart of Gobblydegook was gone.  

He had no idea how this was possible but it couldn't bode well for the Tangle.  The heart of Gobblydegook was gone, the queen was fire and glass, at least according to the stone.  And the living was joining the stone.  None of that made any sense but it was important.  He knew it was important, knowledge that must be gained, understanding that must be developed.  He didn't have long, a few decades at most, before he would crumble into stone himself, and perhaps this knowledge was a worthy final quest.  He would see what he could see.

“Well then George” he said to the tiny pebble on his shoulder “shall we go?”   He spoke out loud to it, talking to it as one might a pet, or another human.  The replies, if they weren't just all in his imagination, were silent. 
“I know I know but its important.” 
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Well then we still need to go.  Standing about here does us no good.”
 
Edgar passed through the rock as if it were air, entering an open passage way with a groan. 

“I'm too old for this shit” he grumbled as he shouldered his satchel and leaned heavily on his stone walking “stick”.  

All around him the stone whispered and he whispered back.  Change was not something stone liked or even understood.  And yet it was coming, or it was already here.  The Stone of the Tangle was eager to share with the one being who would listen.  It was the most talkative stone he'd ever encountered.  He had to find out what was going on, anything that turned stone into a gossipy fishwife should really be stopped.  It was incredibly irritating.   

Edgar shuffled his careful way towards the center of the Tangle, bones aching, body stiff.  He took the direct route, passing through walls with a polite please and a thank you to the rock.  Occasionally he picked up a particularly disgruntled rock or pebble and placed it someplace where it wouldn't get stepped on.  People were so thoughtless.  Had he encountered any he might have delivered a scathing scolding.  Since he was alone in the pathways he just grumbled and he walked; grumbled about stupidity and thoughtlessness and how hideous the bright purple building he was passing looked.

 No one noticed his approach, passing through the walls as he did without warning, and he stood, silent for a moment, his hand on a SeaLion, half fish half lion, that had been turned to stone.  All was silent in his mind.  Stone but not stone.  Not dead but not living.  It was downright creepy.    

“What in the Mud god's holy swamp is going on here?” he demanded irritably, and very loudly, as he thumped and shuffled his way into the central clearing where others had gathered.