Llywelyn, son of Cadoc, student of Auredhel the Insightful, stumbled and fell to the ground. He cursed in the Elven tongue, after the fashion of his master, and struggled back to his feet. Leaning heavily on his staff, he plodded on through the darkness. He had fashioned it by his own hand, as all the Wizard's apprentices had. It was good sturdy oak, with magical jewels inlaid at the crux. He had enchanted it himself, too. It could cast balls of fire at an unsuspecting foeman- though of late Llyw found himself relying on it more and more simply to keep standing.

He was not sure how long he had been wandering the Drakenwald- the cursed forest! It must have been days, though, perhaps even a week. His rations, such as they were, had run quite low indeed. And sometimes he heard movement in the distance, some creature moving about the brush. They often drew very close to him. Why did they not simply eat him, and put an end to his misery? Did they so delight in tormenting him? But Llyw would [i]not[/i] give them the satisfaction of panicking. A true wizard, his master had told him once, carried himself with dignity. He would die calmly on his feet, not fleeing for his life from some low beast. But no matter what ended him, he very much knew that he would never make it out of the forest alive. He was quite certain of that. A man of knowledge did not have the luxury of wishing away unpleasant thoughts.

As he crested a hill, he sighed audibly. Perhaps he had already died, but he had not yet come to accept it. He had heard that such sometimes happened, that those souls that do not believe themselves to have passed from the mortal plane must wander for a time before entering into Vanel's Divine Kingdom. It was certainly a possibility, if not a very happy one. But mayhap it was not so. Raising his weary eyes to the horizon, he spotted something in the distance. A farm in a clearing, perhaps. Or an inn- but why here, in the middle of nowhere?

[i]Who cares?[/i] the apprentice thought, a new enthusiasm springing in his heart. [i]Live or dead, there is the end of this nightmare![/i]

Moving at a brisk trot, and oblivious now to the whole of his surroundings, Llywelyn made haste for the clearing. Once or twice he lost his footing and tumbled onto his hands and knees. Rising again each time, he continued his trek. Nothing could stop him now.

Shortly he found himself at the edge of the clearing, and he hazed with wonder at the sight before him. An inn, it was. But more importantly, there were people about. Throwing caution to the wind, he approached a man armed with a spear, who looked rather to him like a fellow human. He knew he must have made a pitiful sight- bleary-eyed, with several days of beard growth on his face, his clothes dirty and a little ragged. In spite of his condition, he spoke with friendly cordiality- as his master had taught all the students.

“Well met, friend, and hail!”

He paused, offering a slight bow.

“I am Llywelyn of Oaktower, apprenticed to Auredhel the Insightful. I feared, for a time, that I had died in the forest, but I can see it is not so that you are here!”

He paused again for a space, before going on with a thin smile.

“Unless you are a servant of the gods, come to consign me to my fate. In which case, I beg, lead on.”