“You boys hungry?” Tom asked as we lazily rolled down the road.

“Famished,” I answered. “We lost our supplies two days ago.”

“What about drink?”

I held up the Refilling Flask Hruk had constructed. “Hruk is a talented artificer, as I said. He made this so we could stay hydrated.”

Tom raised his eyebrows, taking the flask out of my hands. He screwed off the topper and sniffed at the contents before splashing a bit of the contents on his palm and tasting it. His eyes widened. “It tastes like the rain!”

Hruk finally looked up from the road. We had both climbed atop the cart and tied Booger to the vehicle, letting him follow us at his own pace. The scarf hid his mouth, but I saw his lips curl up under the fabric.

“It might as well be rainwater,” Hruk said. “The air is full of droplets so small that they float. I designed the rune script to gather them and absorb them into the container. The ice elemental within, speeds up the process, cleans the water, and keeps it chilled.”

“We could use someone like you in my village.” Tom sighed. “The rivers aren’t as clean as they used to be. The crops and orchards grow just fine, but it’s been making the children ill.”

Neither Hruk nor I said anything. We thought it best to hold our tongues. After I told Hruk tales of Earth, he had warned me that Arena Disk wasn’t as nice a place. Danger plagued the disk. Every home, village, town, and city had a long list of problems. If we let ourselves get distracted and tried to solve all of them, we’d never fulfil our goals or reached our destination.

If someone begged for our help, we’d most likely give in and oblige. However, until then, it was best to remain aloof. Instead, if someone provided help, or hospitality, we needed to repay in kind, keeping value in mind. It was a cynical way of looking at things, but practising Earthen morals on Arena Disk was a bad idea.

Even though I worked a blue-collar job, I enjoyed rights and privileges the locals only dreamt of and lived in a decent degree of comfort. As an Englishman, I enjoyed free healthcare and several social securities—the UK failed to match the Scandinavian countries’ levels, but it was still better than most. Because of our relative comfort, we had time to focus on other people’s strife and be charitable. However, in Arena Disk, we needed to sort ourselves out before thinking about others.

As we ventured further away from Blacknail Mountains, the hills appeared tamer. We spotted fewer boulders littering the landscape and the number of trees increased. A couple of times herds of goats blocked the road, and Tom had to yell for the goatherder to move them or shoo them himself. Then, much to my surprise, we crossed terraced fields rich with crops and orchards covering small clusters of hills at a time.

“All of this used to be individual farms when I was still a wee lad,” Tom told us. “Lone farms or orchards are a pain to protect. Occasionally, bandits passing through the region would raid us. Sometimes, injured beasts would struggle to find prey in the mountains. So, they’d come after our cattle… or steal away those stupid enough to walk outside the fences after everyone’s gone to bed.”

Tom fell silent. His eyes drifted to the mountains far to our left. He watched it as we rolled onwards. Even though I was tempted to ask, I kept shut. Perhaps he lost a friend or family member to such a beast attack. The final afterthought almost felt personal.

“Trade was a pain, too. Every full moon, my Da would drag us along on long trips around the other hill folk villages or to the market towns to trade. When I got older, he dragged us all the way to Eldar’s Port twice.” Tom chuckle. “I hated it back then.”

It became apparent that Tom liked to hear himself talk. In most cases, I’d tune people out when they went on for long, but to better sell my stories, I needed to understand hill folk. Otherwise, eventually, someone would see through my bullshit and call me out on it. So, I drank every word in, committing it to memory. History and current affairs would all come in handy.

“I don’t know how it is wherever you’re from, Mage Hruk, but we hill folk have some annoying customs. The family farm or business doesn’t go to the most accomplished or interested child, but the first son. So, when we second and third songs came of age, we found ourselves with a dilemma. Either find a new direction or leave the lands we love and settle elsewhere—not all hill folk are like Perry, here. We’re bound to our land and hate the thought of leaving it. We went for the first option.”

“You became merchants?” Hruk asked. To some extent, I was glad he engaged before me. He didn’t want us to engage too much, but now I had the excuse to ask questions, too.

“Not quite. We moved to the bigger villages for a short while to pick up crafts or trades, families would have to trouble days to find. Then, once we reached Journeyman ranks in the relevant masteries, we returned to our land and set up hamlets, helping each other build homes and trading services. Eventually, these became markets too. Now, we have a network for trading and transporting goods. Before, we’d have to visit the bigger villages every full moon—the roads were the busiest and safest then—or go all the way to Eldar’s Port. Now, we skip the other villages altogether and just visit the city every alternate season.”

“And what is it you do, Tom?” I asked.

“I wear many hats,” he replied. “I’m a carpenter and cartwright most of the time. Then the week around every full moon I transport our cluster’s premium goods to one of the bigger markets where the price is higher. The merchants get to buy everything for cheaper than in Eldar’s Port, but we still make a fair deal of coin. The artisans and producers get decent deals, and my cut is better too.” Tom leaned closer, grinning. “And that’s without spending days on the road, paying tolls and risking bandits.”

“You’re entrepreneurial, aren’t you?” I chuckled. “I wish I had the same hustle as you, Tom.”

“Well, you’re a bard travelling with a powerful mage. I’d say you’re doing well for yourself. Not everyone’s made for the halfling life.”

Hruk almost fell off the cart as he burst out laughing. He clutched his stomach and the scarf around his mouth slipped down, revealing his mouth. When Tom glanced at Hruk quizzically, his eyes widened, but he didn’t say a thing. The conversation died down after that. I didn’t mind, though, as the Tom’s hamlet finally came into view.

My heart thumped in my chest, goosebumps formed, and I couldn’t help but smile. It looked like the shire. It felt as if Peter Jackson and J.R.R.Tolkien had visited Arena Disk before assembling their image of the shire. However, instead of circular doors and windows, the hill folk appeared to prefer conventional rectangular openings in their green homes. Little fences surrounded the front yards, and children ran between them, laughing and playing.

“Reminds you of home, eh?” Tom asked, but I didn’t answer.

Instead, I watched the people chatting and exchanging baskets of fruits, vegetables, and baked goods. People stood around, smoking large pipes, and young boys helped their mothers hang up the washing. The scene in front of me appeared peaceful and welcoming. Looking at it, I understood why everyone liked the hill folk. They looked like good-spirited folk.

Hruk appeared as amazed as me. Enchanted by the lush green, fruit-laden trees, and the people, he had forgotten to cover his mouth. However, no one gave him the stink eye or turned away. Instead, as we got closer and people got an unobstructed view of us, they waved, and children ran along cart’s side chanting ‘Green man and gleeman’.

“Welcome to Dil’s Nook,” Tom said, grinning. “We’ve got best sausage outside of the dwarven lands. You’ll struggle to find better mead elsewhere, too.”