The Tale of Oliver

Chapter 9

Quite pleased with themselves, and with the prospect of roast turducken, our noble heroes made their way back to the Bobbit Town, Gronk's chest in tow. As they came through the gate, the townsfolk peered out their windows and wondered whether it truly was the Great Chef Gronk's cooking chest that the trio carried. By the time they arrived back at Gronk's, they had half the town indiscreetly tailing them. Gronkowski met them at the door, "I have to say, I didn't think I'd see you again. Thought maybe you'd get lost or bored or eaten."

"Well we certainly hope it was worth it," Oliver said, exasperated, "after all that I really need something to eat."

"Don't worry kid, I'll be sure to give you the best turducken and potatoes you've ever had." Gronkowski certainly delivered, serving up a feast of juicy turducken, along with potatoes: boiled, mashed, stuck in a stew and all. By the time that Oliver, Catsup and Fryes had eaten their fill, the rest of the Bobbits who'd been following them crowded the restaurant, and one could hear the glowing remarks about chef Gronkowski's recent cooking. Just like Gronk's cooking. Who knew his boy could cook so well? The trio never had time to thank Gronkowski for the food, and he never got a chance to thank them properly since he was so busy serving the entire town, but they knew that they had helped to make his dream come true , and that was enough for them.

With full stomachs and renewed spirits, Oliver, Catsup and Fryes were back on the road again. Coming to a crossroads,they paused to get their bearings. Oliver moistened his finger and held it aloft to check the direction of the wind, which he determined to be coming from the southeast; admittedly, this information did nothing to their further progress. Meanwhile, Fryes consulted her map, and excitedly announced, "Alrighty, I think we're on the last leg of our trip here; we should be at Mold's lair soon!"

Oliver was filled with a sense of dread. Not for the first time or the last, he wondered what had ever made him think he could take on a Warlock as powerful as Mold. Not to mention the onions: no great evildoer was ever without his hordes of bumbling onions to carry out his every whim and order - and these were always sure to be found guarding the stronghold itself. Then he remembered: it never was his choice to begin with: it was his quest as a Salaadborne, and a Salaadborne never backed out of a challenge.

Or maybe they did, he thought, but those stories didn't make it into the history books. Maybe some of the Salaadborne turned back at the end, and went home and lived quiet ordinary lives. Long lives, lives that didn't involve getting decapitated - or worse - decapitated by an evil sorcerer.

"Hey, um, Fryes, can we talk for a moment?"

She turned around and looked at him quizzically, "Sure, but make it quick, we've got to get to Mold's lair."

"Yeah, about that, ummm... I'm not really sure about that."

"About what - going to Mold's lair? Cause we really do have to go there. How can you fulfill your destiny and defeat him if you don't even show up?!." she exclaimed in disbelief.

"Well, I mean, yeah there is that, but like, what if maybe we uh, y'know...didn't."

Catsup barked, and Fryes was indignant. "You mean to tell me you've come all this way just to get cold feet on the final stretch? I can't believe you, Oliver!"

"Look, it's just that I kinda like being, well, alive."

"Sit down, Oliver, let's chat."

Oliver complied and plumped his rump on a nearby stump.

"When I first found you on the side of the road back in Chapter 1, I'll admit it, I had my doubts about you. You were just some scrawny milk-drinker from inside the city walls. I saw no potential in you whatsoever. It was sad, I thought, that the Salaadbornes had been reduced to you. I mean, how could you possibly live up to the legacies of the greatest warriors the Realm had ever known?"