Facing the fire, there was a tall, stout, and dark ebony chair in the middle of the room. Its cushions were wide and quite comfortable but, on it, sat an old frail man. His hair was as white as a dove, he had a thick mustache covering his mouth, and fancy clothes adorned his body. Embers sparked up and the wood in the fire crackled; on the hearth, atop an extensive rug, two figures sat cross legged.
" But Grandfather! Mother and Father won’t be here until supper, or bedtime at most! Could you not read us a story or two?"
The two youngsters uttered and repeated the words over and over relentlessly. One was a boy, the other a girl. They both had chestnut hair and almond eyes. Their skin was a fair tan and so were the garments they ported. A glimmer in their eyes showed how enthusiastic they were for the prospect of a story. On the other hand, the old man puffed his cheeks and cracked a smile.
"Oh alright! You’re my grandkids!" His mustache bobbed up and down as he spoke, " I can’t say no to ya! Yer too darn cute. Hmm, what should we read…"
Tiffany spoke up, “How about some Goblin mischief? Those are fun!”
Brandon followed, ” I’d rather like some villainous stories!”
Frail as he were, the man managed to stand up, and walk up to the library. His eyes rummaged through the various books that filled the shelves. Some tomes were wide and yellowed by the years, others were thin but covered with dust, the rest were fairly new or in some good condition. Finally, after what had seemed an hour for the children, his arm reached onto a shelf and pulled out a wide book. The leather that embraced the weathered pages felt smooth and frail to the touch. It was heavy and dust obscured its title. With a swipe and a small wind from the man’s arm the legend was revealed, and it read, *”The Hazardous and Marvelous deeds done by,”*
and below it were three words inscribed with three different symbols on them, they were of three different colors. Unfortunately it was written in a strange and forgotten language who few remembered and so the man took the boom down with both hands and carried it over slowly to the chair. He sat, smacked his lips, licked his index finger, and opened the tome but before he could begin he was interrupted.
" What is that?"
" Is it some boring old book that teaches something?"
With calm, patience, and care in his voice he answered, ” It is a book given to me by my father who received it from his father who got it from his previous predecessor,” tears rose in his eyes but he waved them away, he smiled and said, ” It is a book about a very furry flying byson and a not so furry frog. It is a book about a man who walked on land just as he did in water. It is about a crafty foxy woman, and you’ll see what I mean. This book tells their story and what followed in their wake.”
The children stared silently at their elder, a glint in both their eyes, they could not wait to hear this story but who could? For these stories were hundreds of years old, but they lived on, for the deeds done by those within were impossible to forget. Now, our storyteller opened his book up to the very first page, he blowed and puffed small gusts which sent the dust into the air and caused the children to cough. And on the very first page it read, …