The magical song bird alights on Liga Burr's bed and warbles a few sweet notes before disappearing in a puff of blue smoke. All that's left, is a small eggshell blue envelope lying where the beautiful, little bird had been. The cautious Halfling sniffs the envelope and before he even opens it, the familiar scent confirms his suspicion. It smells of Bard...
Be not afraid my Halfling friend. I'm currently working on a cunning plan to get you, Arowe and Fortu out... (and Mir Hundur too).
Do your very best to survive your next bout and then, make some excuse to stay in the 'post-prep' area. Regardless of what the guards say, delay as long as possible.
I have recently learned that your capturer, the Wizard Moody, has bribed the arena masters to ensure that you won't survive your third bout. Apparently, IF you survive your second bout, your final opponent is to be a terrible beast. A monster, thirty feet tall, with a ginormous jaw full of razor-sharp teeth, each one longer than Fortu is tall! I'm not certain what this leviathan is exactly but the people call it: 'Golgotha: Son of Satanus. Grandson of Old One-eye'!
Wait for my signal and we'll make our escape!
Warm Regards,
Your loyal friend,
Rifkin.
xxx
Considering the author; the quillmanship is unsurprisingly lovely but Liga Burr is shocked when he realises halfway through, that it's perfectly written in the Halfling script. Making sure there are no guards within earshot, The Halfling reads the letter out-loud to his companions before ripping it up and swallowing the pieces.
are we still James Bonding it....
ReplyDeleteI was going to go for 'To Burr with Love' but it's a little bit too obscure and your play on Bond titles was funny and deserved extending.
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