Good Grief

[Ozymandias]

~PROLOGUE~

 

Garl Glittergold's life was not always so complex. It all started, he knew, with the death of his betrothed.

 

They lived happily in their woodland village for many years, the tale of their romance a classic one: boy meets girl in childhood, and their love blooms like an orchid as the years pass, and spreads its fragrance only more strongly the longer it endures. He, with his gift of laughter, finding the light in even the darkest tragedy, and she, with her amazing gift of awe and wonder, hers the ability to find joy and miracle in the simplest of things.

 

The village, which in accordance with Wood Gnome custom had no proper name, was typical in all aspects. It was small, only two hundred gnomes strong in Garl's time, and was of course all but invisible to untrained eyes, or those of select other forest denizens.

 

Most notable of the "select others" was a nearby city of Wood Elves, only about five miles away from the Gnome village's southernmost tip. Where their village was small and simple, the Wood Elves' home seemed sweeping and intricate. It was a place of swooping arches and bridges, squat smokehouses, spiraling watchtowers, gracefully angular family homes, and even a massive royal dining hall (which all the people were invited to on holidays and other important occasions). The elves numbered almost into the thousands and welcomed burgeoning trade with the Gnomes for many generations. To the Gnomes, it seemed a bustling metropolis indeed.

 

To Garl, it seemed a treasure trove of knowledge and excitement. He made any excuse to visit as often as he could. Over time, this made him many elvish friends, in particular, the village guards. For Garl was a clever gnome and a very astute problem solver when it came to sheer wit and wisdom. Military minds are among those who always appreciate quick thinking the most.

 

So, in their turn, the elves repaid Garl for his aid and companionship by teaching him the art of the sword, which not only delighted the young Gnome, but made him the better of all in his village in swordplay. Once his training was complete, Garl, ever pragmatic, immediately volunteered for the village watchmen- a group of wizards, sorcerors, rangers, and those few Gnomes who simply found themselves naturally adept at skull-cracking- who protected the village from marauding predators, bandits, and vandals.

 

 

Lilacleah, for her part, was enchanted. Not from any romantic notions of marrying a true swashbuckling hero (though she did consider him a good man who most definitely would always fight for what's right), but from awe of the sheer grace and beauty a well-trained swordsman may invoke from a blade. Garl's new ability, totally unique in their home- no one else in the village knew how to wield a sword, except as a makeshift axe- brought his betrothed to his side even more often than before. A point he did not care to and happily made no effort to argue.

 

Many peaceful, and not so peacful, but ever contented seasons passed this way, until finally, there was but one year left before Garl and Lilacleah's marriage. The both of them beamed like lanterns and fairly floated across the earth wherever they went from winter until fall. Then, even when Lilacleah took violently ill that new winter, they continued. Though Garl's step was laced with worry when Lilacleah could not see.

 

She died in the second month of winter, and Garl's world shattered into a thousand razor-sharp shards. He stopped patrolling with the watch, training with them, and listening to them. He seemed to hear nothing, not the birds in the trees, not the insects all around, not even the anguished pleas of his venerable parents as they tried to bring him back to life. No, he seemed to wish to do nothing but lean on his trusty sword (a blade forged for him as an early wedding present by a wood elf blacksmith: the very same one who supplied his city guard's weapons) over Lilacleah's grave and sulk.

 

This carried on for the next four winters.

 

One day, as Garl awoke from another fitful night of restless dreams stiff and sore as usual, he found himself awake in the wheat field under which his love was buried. Only mildly surprised, he quickly wrote it off as sleepwalking...until he turned his gaze to Lilacleah's grave. There, standing as serenely as any of the grazing deer he'd seen countless times before, was an actual, living, breathing, unicorn, looking thoughtfully off into the trees at what Garl could not imagine.

 

His small gnome's heart started pumping like a giant's bellows. His palms moistened, and throat went dry. It was the single most ecstatic moment of his young life. The cares and woes of the world fell away into nothing, and he was left knowing only all the joy he'd ever called his own. And then some. He was alive!; and could feel the cool breeze play over his bare arms, hear a songbird titter at him gaping like a fool, the sound of the wheat rustling in the wind; it was suddenly all almost too much for his heart to bear, happiness filled it so close to bursting as he stood here, in the prescence of this! This living legend! Here, mere yards away from a living, breathing embodiment of good, justice, purity, and hope! Sought by countless thousands in countless thousands more generations, never to be found! And here, was a unicorn, this gift from who knows where, enjoying the breeze right there in front of him!

 

And he subsided, somewhat. And he laughed. Not loudly, for fear of scaring the beast away. A quiet chuckle, at himself. How blind he'd been! This is what it was like for her, wasn't it?, he thought, half to himself and half at the unicorn.

This is the real truth of what her each and every day was. I knew that in that delicate breast beat a heart that blazed like a sun, but this...! It's enough to make a grown man weep. He laughed out loud, a great whoop of joy and

unself-conscious merriment, when he realized he was weeping. I once was blind, but now I see. Grinning fit to bust his own head wide open, Garl was caught completely off guard as the unicorn cocked its head and, meeting his eye, gave him a long, knowing look. Garl was so astonished, he sat down on the ground, hard. The pain from his tailbone made no difference to him whatsoever.

 

Then the unicorn cantered off, still the picture of infinite leisure. He looked after it for a long time. "I see now indeed," he murmured to himself. "Such beauty and wonder cannot be contained so selfishly as I have held it. It must be shared. With everyone. Starting today!," he yelled aloud to the wheat, the thrushes, and some very nonplussed field mice. With that, he leapt up, and quick as a wink, was into the elven city, and back to the village again, and had organized and proceeded to throw Lilacleah a going away party the likes of which neither gnomes nor elves had ever seen in their considerable days.

 

A week later, Garl Glittergold took his mission to the road. That's when things for the laughing gnome got interesting.

 

~END OF PROLOGUE~

 

Author's note: This is actually a backstory I've written as a requirement from the DM of an upcoming Dungeons & Dragons game I'll be playing. The rest of Garl's story, if you, dear reader, wish to continue, will be posted here after each subsequent adventure/game evening.

Edited April 4, 2003 by Ozymandias the Elder

[Peredhil]

I want more...

[WrenWind]

As do I

[Ozymandias]

I'll give you my DM's e-amil addy if you want to harass him into STARTING the freakin' thing...

(Oh, and thanks for reading!!!)

[Brute]

Would it help speed things along if I threatened to hold him down and belch noxious booze fumes in his face until he agrees to start? I really would like to hear the gnome lad's story. In detail. So roll some dice, shuffle the maps, plot a course, and get started! Good grief!!