Elicia was in her garden, pulling weeds, when the wizard came by her small burrow. So focused was she on tearing up the unwanted intruders in her neat flower beds that she didn’t hear the footsteps coming up the path towards her front gate until a polite cough from the gate interrupted her from her chore. With a start, Elicia rose from the earthy plot and turned her head. Standing over the gate was a stooped old twiceling. He was dressed in a dingy grey set of robes. Perched on his head was a tall, pointed grey gat. Cradled in his gnarled hands was a twisted wooden staff topped by a crystal.

“Excuse me, my pretty lass,” The human said in a creaky voice. “Is this the path to Stony Brook?” He nodded his brow in the direction he was traveling.

Elicia rose to her furry feet. She brushed some clods of dirt off the skirt of her dress. “Why yes, that’s the way to the village.” She’d gone that way many times, to the village market or to enjoy some festivity or another held in the village common on a regular basis. “What business takes you to these parts?” She asked politely.

“I am Gudrun, a wizard!” The old man declared, tapping his staff on the path for emphasis. “I am seeking…companions, for a journey, of sorts.”

“A wizard!?!” Elicia said in delighted surprise. There were few among the little folk of Moorlaand who had the talent for magic. Very rarely, a minor illusionist or alchemist would come through on a fair day, performing minor tricks and selling potions of dubious worth.

Gudrun nodded. Leaning on his staff, he raised one hand, closed into a fist and spoke into it in a low voice that made no sense to the young Halfling. When he opened it, perched on his palm was a large, pink butterfly. Its wings shimmered with light as it rose into the air, flapping several times around Elicia’s garden before fading into a shower of sparks. The Halfling clapped her hand joyfully.

“And by what name are you known, pretty maid?” The wizard asked, smiling down at the Halfling girl. This time, he summoned a pair of hummingbirds that chased one another around for a bit.

Charmed by his latest spell, Elicia answered. “I am called Elicia, sir wizard. Elicia Cooper.”

“Is your husband home?” The wizard asked. “Her parents?” He added after she shook her head.

“No, good sir. I live by myself. My parents both took the pox many years ago, back when I was a lass.” A small voice in the back of her mind told Elicia she shouldn’t be telling a stranger this, but the Halfling paid it no mind. What harm could there be telling it to a kind old man, especially one who did such lovely tricks?

“It must be hard for such a pretty maid like you, living alone.” Gudrun said.

“Oh, my garden gives me plenty of things to eat and I have a milk cow and some chickens…” Elicia told him. Charming or not, she didn’t tell him about the money her uncle had left her. Old Tomas Cooper, in his youth, had had the adventuring bug. Once a generation or so, one of the little folk would be struck by the urge to leave home and see the outside world. One day, years later, he’d come back with an old, notched sword almost as tall as he was, and a chest of coins, silver, inscribed with letters no one in the village could read. When Elicia’s parents had died, they had left the money with a family friend in trust for their daughter. Part of it would be her dowry when she married. In the meantime, the few silver coins a month she got kept the larder comfortably full and paid the postman his weekly penny.

Gudrun did a few more tricks for the Halfling, before he said, “Now, I think I must head on to the village.” With a tip of his cap, he started making his way up the path. Elicia watched from the gate until the old man disappeared around the hedges, then reluctantly returned to her gardening. She didn’t notice the small, glowing rune which the old man had traced on the old wood of her gate with the base of his staff…


That night, Elicia had more visitors. They were three dwarves and their arrival was quite unexpected, since they didn’t bother to knock or even to use the front door, though it was unlocked as it always was. Instead, they opened the front window of her parlor and slipped in, silent as the night.

At that moment, the Halfling maid was asleep in her bed, unaware of her uninvited guests, at least until they came up to her bed. One of the dwarves clamped a hand over Elicia’s mouth, muffling the frightened lass’s startled cry. The other two stepped forward, rope in hand. In no time, they had her hands and feet bound tight. She could only struggle feebly as a cloth was stuffed into her mouth and another bound across her mouth to keep her gag in place. The dwarves then seized their frightened hostess and carried her bodily out of her bedroom, out of the burrow, and into the night.

Waiting on the road by the front gate was a horse drawn cart. At the front, a shadowing driver held the reins of two dark colored horses hitched to the wagon. As the dwarves carried the helpless Halfling towards the cart, the shadow detached itself from the front of the cart and stepped off it. As the driver moved into the moonlight, Elicia was shocked to recognize him as the wizard she’d spoken to, earlier that day.

“Very nice…” Gudrun whispered to his henchdwarves. “Very nice indeed.” His voice and his posture belief the image of a kindly, yet frail old man the illusionist had presented earlier that day. “Put her in the back with the others and then on to our next stop.”

Elicia was carried around to the back of the cart. As she was lifted up, Elicia saw several more Halflings, five, maybe six in total, lying in the back of the wagon. All of them were young, female and all rather pretty, though none looked their best; their hair in disarray, eyes red from crying and looks of terror on their faces. Elicia recognized some of them from the village. Like her, they were in their night clothes, torn and disheveled by their rough kidnapping. Also like her, they were bound, hand and foot, with rope and gagged with thick bands of cloth over their mouths.

After the newest captive was dropped, none-too-gently, in the back of the wagon with the others, the dwarves climbed onto the wagon. At a signal from them, Gudrun flicked the reins, and the wagon began to roll forward. The clomping of hooves, the grinding of wheels against cobblestone, the creak of the timber wagon, Elicia could hear them, but the sounds seemed oddly muffled and distant. The wizard must have cast a spell, to help hide him and his evil accomplices as they moved about under cover of darkness.

“But what is going on?” Elicia thought, terrified. “Where are they taking us?” Though the road they were traveling down was one she had walked countless times before, in the dark night, and with the fright of her sudden abduction, Elicia could have easily put herself a hundred leagues away from home, rather than a few dozen yards.      

After ten minutes or so, the wagon came to a halt. Peering over the side of the wagon, Elicia could just make out the front door and dark windows of the burrow of her neighbor, Mr. Duffbar. The young Halfling noticed a small glowing rune on the door, marking it as the next stopping point for the wizard and his accomplices. At a word from their boss, the dwarves jumped down from the wagon and quietly crept up on the house. The door opened easily for them; like Elicia, the Halflings who lived here kept their door unlocked. There’d never been a reason to before.

Gudrun and the captives waited, somewhere between a quarter and a half of an hour. Then, the kidnappers reappeared. Each had a bound, squirming figure tossed over one, broad shoulder. Mrs. Duffbar and her two daughters. The frightened women were loading into the back of the wagon with the other captives and they set off to the next house which had been marked for a visit tonight.

At the cross-roads, Gudrun swung the wagon southward, skirting the edge of the village. Less chance of being discovered, Elicia thought. Not that it mattered, she knew. Old Tom, the village’s night watchman was a king old soul who mainly helped the odd drunk back to his home and kept watch for fire in the village. Even if, by some miracle, his ambling patrol, forewarned by his bell and call of ‘1 o’clock and all’s well!’, should meet the kidnapper’s secret route, the Halfling lass doubted the old watchman would be any match for three burly, ruthless dwarven thugs, much less a wizard.

The wagon stopped at three more burrows. At each stop, the kidnappers got off to ply their trade, carrying off another captive or two for the wagon each time; here a wife, here a pair of sisters, here a mother and daughter. It soon got to be quite crowded in the back of the wagon. As the last pair of frightened, bound Halflings were dropped into the back of the wagon, Gudrun turned onto a side road, heading away from the village and into the countryside. By the time the dawn was just starting to become visible on the horizon, they were well away.

“Right!” Gudrun said, pulling back on the reins. “Let’s get this lot packaged and be well away from here before anyone wakes up and misses this bunch.” He turned to look over the Halflings, a cruel, greedy look in his eyes as he looked over his load of captive females.

Two of the dwarves hopped down from the wagon and ran off into the woods. A second later, they returned, rolling a large wooden barrel. Stamped on the sides was the mark of one of the major haling families, marking the barrel as containing Fine Halfling Cured Tobacco, one of the region’s biggest exports. Standing it at the rear of the wagon, they popped the lid. Apart from a strong smell of fine Halfling Leaf, the barrel was empty.

Gudrun and the third dwarf had, meanwhile, climbed into the back of the wagon with the captives. They grabbed the nearest lass and lifted her up. The squirming girl was lowed into the open barrel. A second Halfling was grabbed and joined her in the wooden prison. The two dwarves on the ground dropped the barrel lid back into place, muffling the two girls’ sobs. Rolling it out of the way, they retrieved another empty barrel and rolled it to the wagon and set it up to retrieve two more weeping captives.

Elicia and another girl were loaded into the third barrel. The captives found themselves pressed against one another into the tight confines of their wooden cage. The barrel lid was slid into place overhead, plunging the Halflings into pitch black darkness. They felt their prison shift around them as the dwarves rolled the barrel out of the way. Faintly, muffled by the wooden walls surrounding her, Elicia heard another empty barrel being rolled up.

When the last of the Halflings had been sealed up, the barrels and their helpless occupants were tipped over, one by one, and rolled back up into the bed of the wagon. When the final one was in place, the kidnappers got the wagon moving again.

Elicia groaned into her gag. As this nightmare journey continued, conditions in the barrel quickly became intolerable. Though small holes had apparently been drilled into the barrel, allowing enough air into the confined space to keep the two Halflings from suffocating, the air still became stuffy and hard to breathe. Though a canvas tarp had been thrown over the wagon bed to shield the barrels from the hot summer sun, it soon became stifling hot inside of them. The two captives, pressed tight against each other, were both sweating heavily.

“How long before all of us are completely cooked?” The Halfling lass wondered miserably. She couldn’t understand why this was happening to her…

Around midday, Gudrun and his henchmen pulled off the road, into the shade of a stand of trees. The four dozed in the shade for an hour or so. Before resuming their journey, each of the barrels was opened and a welcome drink of water for the captives given from a leather skin. Then, the Halflings were gagged once more and the lids closed up to resume traveling.

Little changed, for the captives, until several hours later. It was past sundown when the wagon came to a sudden, jarring halt. Elicia was jarred from the fitful sleep she’d managed to snatch despite her uncomfortable circumstances.

“Half! Who goes there!” The deep voice of a Twiceling man could be heard calling out, muffled by the wooden barrel.

“The names Othar, a merchant from Karn.” Gudrun lied to the other man. “Got a load of fine Halfling leaf, taking it to the market at Jotte.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to search your cart, merchant.” The man replied. “Got word a coupla’ Halfling lasses been stolen from a village, ‘bout a day’s travel west. From here, it’s a day by cart to the King’s Highway and from there a week to Three Crowns and the Slave Fair they’ve got there, so the Earl says all carts coming up the road from Moorland have got to be searched.”

“Well, take a look. All I’ve got is a dozen barrels of Tobacco.” Gudrun told the man. In her barrel, Elicia was stirred by hope. They’d reached the border of the Halfling lands and run into a patrol of the King’s Rangers. The Rangers had, for centuries, watched the northern borders of Moorlaand, keeping the Halflings safe. She grunted into her gag, as loud as she could, sure they were about to be rescued.

The Halfling heard someone, the ranger she presumed, climb up into the wagon. The tarp was thrown back from the barrels. A second later, the lid of the barrel was lifted up, letting in a gust of cool, evening air. Looking up, the Halfling saw, silhouetted against the starry night sky, a man looking down at the two captive girls. They whimpered into their gags in relief.

“Looks like you’re right…” The man called over his shoulder. “Just a bunch of tobacco leaves here. Move the barricade to let them pass!” He called to his companions further up the road. The two Halfling’s cries of relief turned to confused moans and then dismayed sobs as the barrel’s lid was lowered back into place. Elicia’s mind reeled. She couldn’t believe the ranger hadn’t seen them. “Could that damn wizard have cast a spell? Did he charm the ranger, so he couldn’t see anything?” She thought miserably. In fact, Gudrun had charmed the patrol, though by more mundane means. As the ranger jumped down from the wagon, there was a small leather satchel in the wizard’s outstretched hand. The other man took it, testing the weight and the pleasant way the contents clinked together.

“Pleasant journey!” The man told Gudrun as the wizard climbed back up into the driver’s perch. “Hope you get a good price for your wares at market!”

“Oh, I’m sure I will!” Gudrun replied cheerfully. He flicked his reins, setting the wagon into motion once more…

The journey for the Halflings stretched on through the night and into the next day. At the noon hour, the wagon stopped again. Elicia cried out into her gag as the barrel was tipped over. It was rolled down a ramp to the grounds. She heard the other barrels being unloaded. The lid was popped. Dwarven hands reached down into the barrel and lifted her and the other girl out.

As the Halfling was lowered to the ground, she looked around. They were in the clearing of a forest. Ahead of them lay rugged hills, rising in the distance. But what drew the girl’s attention was the second cart, parked on the other side of the clearing. The back had been built into a cage, with thick iron bars. Raised over the top of the wagon was a large wooden sign. Along with the other captives, Elicia wailed into her gag as she read what was painted on it: “Gudrun’s Fine Halfling Slaves.”

From the wagon, the wizard and the dwarven slavers withdrew a number of iron collars and shackles. Elicia was pulled to her feet. The ropes binding her were cut. Before she could enjoy her brief freedom, shackles were locked onto her wrists and ankles. An iron collar was closed around her throat. One of the dwarves grabbed her night gown. The dirty, torn cloth ripped away, leaving her naked. She was dragged to the cage and forced in. The other Halflings quickly joined her. Gudrun and one of his henchdwarves climbed onto the slave wagon. The other two took the first wagon. Whips cracked, the two vehicles rolled forward, heading towards the slave fair…