“I feel like a parody,” said Elvish.

“Whaddya mean, a parody?” asked Grimly, a blank expression on his face.

Elvish Parsley was sitting on a bench with his companion, fellow half-elf Grimly Fiendish, in Heartbreak Tavern in Sunrec, sipping from a flagon of ale. It was late afternoon and they were the only ones there. The bearded human tavern owner stood behind the bar, polishing glasses, in earshot but pretending to ignore them.

“My life is not my own,” said Elvish, looking down at his new blue suede boots.

“Whaddya mean, life not your own?” asked Grimly, with an even blanker expression showing on his face.

Elvish sighed. His friend seemed more unreal each day, spouting the same formulaic speech. He himself felt manipulated by forces beyond his control, his destiny intertwined with Grimly and a ragbag party of adventurers whether he wanted it or not. Together, they spent their time exploring the local caverns and dungeons for money, ridding them of goblins and recovering any treasure they could get their hands on.

“Forget it.” Elvish said, “Are you sure the others said we should meet here at noon?” His friend nodded and finished off what remained of his ale. They both knew their fellow adventurers were not known for their punctuality.

The door of the tavern opened and a tall man in a long chalk-grey cloak and crumpled cloth pointy hat walked in. The man was carrying an ornate oak staff and Elvish had a growing sense of déjà vu.

“Here we go again,” said Elvish.

“That fellow be looking like he might need help” said Grimly.

“Of course, he ‘be needing help’. In a minute that novice wizard will be over here, offering us a small stack of silver coins to recover something from the goblins in the valley.” Apart from the fine ale, the Heartbreak Inn was the best place in town to find this kind of work. Potential patrons regularly came looking for help to find something that had been taken from them, or someone who’d been kidnapped by the pesky goblins, or occasionally to simply root the vermin out of their cave lairs.

“Impressive, Elvish. How you be knowing that?”

“Because…”

“Have you met the man before?”

“Nope, I…”

“Or have you finally realised the power of those new boots of yours?” Grimly was looking at his friend in awe. Although creepy, Elvish reasoned that it was better than his usual set of blank expressions and meant Grimly had finally stopped interrupting him.

“No of course not. I may be only a level one half-elf ranger, but I’ve been playing this game long enough to know what to expect when someone dressed like him walks into the bar.”

“Level one? Game? You sure have developed an odd way of speaking recently.”

His friend was right. Level one? Game? What did that mean? He was being very allegorical. Despite casually dismissing his friend, Elvish wondered what had changed to make him start saying stuff like that. It was true it had coincided with him slipping on the blue suede boots They had been his share of the treasure in the last underground cave they had raided. The boots in question had been locked in a wooden chest that he had broken into. Elvish had yet to discover the full extent of their magic powers. He thought it might be an increase in his Intuition of the Truth, which was already high.

His fellow adventurers were now convinced the boots were cursed and referred to them as his dancing blue booties. This was also because Elvish had succumbed to the overwhelming urge to throw his right hand in the air, shake his body and sing at inappropriate moments during their journey home. Although he now seemed to have this largely under control, he couldn’t stop himself shaking his hips whenever he walked. He couldn’t take the boots off either, which wasn’t a good sign. They may well be cursed, Elvish thought, but surely, they had some redeeming magical power that would benefit him.

It struck Elvish then that he might have an opportunity to ask the wizard who had walked into the place to identify the boots and tell him about their magic. He had heard that was something a wizard did, although he imagined they would ask to be paid for the service.

The two adventurers watched as the wizard pulled out a long spindly clay pipe and a leather pouch of tobacco from within the depths of his cloak. The man opened the pouch and started stuffing the tobacco into the pipe as he surveyed the inside of the tavern. He nodded at Grimly and Elvish and they nodded back just as the bartender arrived with two more flagons of ale and a large freshly-baked venison pie.

“Who’s the pie for?” she said as she placed the ale in front of them.

“That’ll be mine,” said Elvish.

“Don’t be taking this personally,” said Grimly pointing his stubby index finger at the steaming hot dish in front of his friend, “but that not be good for you. You really should watch your weight. Remember those hounds?”

Grimly was right. They had found themselves surprised by a pack of wild dogs on their way to the goblins’ lair a week ago, and Elvish discovered he was out of shape as they made a move to outrun them, Fortunately, he was just able to keep up the pace as the band of adventurers outran the pack, but he was left trailing his friends. He was unfit but couldn’t stop himself from over-indulging. Food was one of the few pleasures he indulged in.

“Gentle folk, do you happen to have a light?” The grey-cloaked wizard was standing over their table now, holding the long pipe in his left hand.

“You can’t be much of a wizard if you don’t have the ability to snap your fingers and create fire.” Elvish said. “What are you? Level 2?” Grimly nearly choked on his ale and nudged Elvish hard in the ribs with his elbow. Elvish knew Grimly would think he was spouting gobbledegook again with all that talk about ‘levels’ but it seemed to make sense to him. The wizard was a potential source of work and he guessed his friend didn’t want that spoiled because Elvish was having a bad quiff day.

The wizard didn’t seem confused or offended. He simply smiled and puffed on his pipe after Grimly had lit it for him using a torch he’d taken from the wall of the tavern. The man certainly looked the part of a mage, although he was bald and his face was lacking a beard, which was unusual for wizards. Elvish had thought it was a requirement and couldn’t recall ever seeing a beardless wizard before.

“Is there anything else we can be doing for you, kind sir?” asked Grimly. “Forgive my companion’s impertinence. He be Elvish Parsley, and I be Fiendish, Grimly Fiendish. We both be at your service if you so desire.”

“Funnily enough, I was hoping you were about to enquire.” said the wizard, who, rather rudely Elvish thought, did not offer his name. He paused to suck on his pipe again and then came out with his request.

“I am in need of two brave souls and was hoping you two fellows might fit the bill.”

“Don’t tell me,” said Elvish, “it involves goblins and could be considered a quest?”

“Please ignore my friend, “Grimly said, “and pray tell us more.”

The wizard, who remained without a name, went on to tell the two young adventurers about a missing spell book he said had been stolen from him that very morning by a pair of goblins. It was of vital importance the tome was returned if he was to continue his studies and graduate as a mage. He then placed one silver coin on the table next to each of the adventurers.

“There’s more where that comes from,” he said, “but you need to move quickly. The goblins are on foot and heading back to their lair. I expect they will camp in the woods to the north-west of Sunrec tonight, because that is their custom. If you leave now and travel by horseback, then you will have no problem reaching them in time.”

“Just one problem with your plan that I can see,” said Elvish, “we ain’t got no horses.”

“That’s what the silver is for.” said their new patron.

“Accepted.” Grimly said, speaking for both of them and pocketing the coins. He turned to his friend but Elvish had suddenly got up from his seat and was in the centre of the tavern, shuffling his feet and moving his hips.

“You be alright, Elvish? We should get going.”

“Uh-huh-oh-yeah!” said Elvish, punching the air with his right fist.