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Chapter Text

In a darkened, little used alleyway in an obscure section of The City, what appeared at first glimpse to be a discarded bundle of grey rags groaned and shook itself, resolving into a smallish human. Checking himself for injuries, the legendary thief known as The Gray Mouser was pleased to find that he not only suffered from nothing worse than a hangover, but was still in possession of his dagger, Cat's Claw, and a quantity of small gems left over from his last haul. Glancing around, he saw the hulking form of his friend and conspirator, Fafhrd, contentedly snoozing nearby.

Shaken awake by his friend, the barbarian flailed about for a moment and said, "Mouser, what happened? The last of my memories had us feasting in the Silver Eel."

The Gray Mouser shook his head. "I don't know. I remember just the same as you, and yet here were are - and here is nowhere in Lankhmar, nor any city in Nehwon that the two of us have seen."

"Well," Fafhrd replied as he stood and stretched, "if city it is no doubt there's some ale-house or tavern we can get our bearings in. Do you see Graywand anywhere?" Also checking himself for injuries, he had only come up with the small axe he carried, not his current longsword.

"No, and I'm missing Scalpel, too." came the reply.

"First things first, then." And with that the two famous rogues strolled out to face another weird adventure.

Chapter Text

Drawing his thick grey cloak against the night air, Curumo's nose wrinkled in involuntary distaste. It was not, he reflected, that he was ungrateful for Aule and the other Valar allowing him a chance at redemption - following his death at Grima's hands, many self-delusions and deep corruptions from Sauron had fallen away, and he had finally seen just how far he had fallen.

Still, sending him to this new realm in Olorin's old colors was a jest he did not especially appreciate.

As he entered the tavern where his two targets were unwittingly waiting, another thing that rankled was the thought of running errands for the likes of Ningauble and Sheelba. These thoughts, however, were thrust aside as he spied the big Northerner - easily taller than even Curumo himself - on the far side of the room.

Making his way through the crowd, his gaze chanced upon a most unusual sight. A green orc in a purple tunic sat by himself, morosely eating some sort of frozen dairy concoction. The remains of several more such were scattered about the table, suggesting the orc had been there a while. Even before his palantir-enabled influence by Sauron, Curumo had had a bit of a soft spot for the goblin-kin, and he quickly decided to intervene.

"Greetings, friend," he began. "How are you on this fine evening?"

"thog is sad." came the rumbled reply. "talky man drop arena on thog, then nale's dad kill nale." He took another bite from his current confection.

"I am sorry for your loss." Curumo paused a moment, then continued. "I do not wish to interrupt your grief, but I have an adventure to arrange and could, if you don't have other prospects, use someone like you on it."

The orc considered this for a moment.

"can thog bring puppy on adventure?"

"I am certain we can work something out."

"sorry-man has deal!"

"That is close enough."

Chapter Text

Thog having wandered off to retrieve his armor and weapons from wherever they had been stashed, Saruman resumed his trek through the crowds towards the two infamous thieves. Finding them deep in their cups, he silently traced two simple figures in some wine spilled on the bar.

An empty oval and seven irregular dots.

Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser were instantly attentive. "I might have known those two would follow us here," remarked the Mouser.

"Strictly speaking, I am here in their stead. I am called Saruman, and we have a powerful artifact to find."

"Just one for all of us, this time?" Fafhrd asked, recalling him and his friend's misadventures tracking down Death's Mask.

"In fact, the artifact is in three parts. Each piece will have to be retrieved separately, though we know where all of them are." Unrolling a map on the countertop, the grey Wizard pointed at a prominently placed geometric design. "It looks like this, and is made of gold."

"It is called the Triforce."

"Shiny," remarked the Mouser, "but why the sudden rush to get it? It's probably been sitting there for centuries."

Saruman nodded. "So it has, but those whose job it is to watch over such things have noticed a surge in interest, some of it quite close to the piece's current hiding places. Foul beasts and men, bearing an evil sigil." His mind flashed back to a lidless eye, wreathed in flame, suspended in black crystal.

"An evil sigil indeed."

NEW TODENANGST

"My Lord Protector!"

Turning from the drafting table where he stood conferencing with his masons, Norman Arminger fixed an eye on the interruption. "This had better be important."

"Yes, sir! An update from the expedition!" With a gulp, the messenger handed over a thick parchment envelope.

Betraying no trace of his excitement, the former history professor eagerly scanned the report. Ever since awakening in this strange land following his joust with Mike "the Lord Bear" Havel, he had been doing everything possible to rebuild the Protective Association, despite the lack of a Portland to protect.

Nodding in satisfaction, he handed the report back to the messenger with an order to pass it along to headquarters, then turned to issue instruction for the castle construction while he was away.

This was something he needed to attend to personally.

Chapter Text

The next morning found the quartet headed north on horses (except for Thog, for whom Saruman had somehow located an enormous warg). "So, wizard," said Fafhrd, "where shall we find the first object of our quest?"

"Far to the north of here", replied Saruman, "lies an island, and there is a cave on the island which holds a piece of the Triforce, in addition to a vast amount of other treasure. I will not forbid you from taking what you will," he continued, noting the gleam in his and the Mouser's eyes, "but caution that the cave is enchanted."

"How so?"

"Anyone who enters the cave begins to feel exhausted and drowsy, and if they sleep in the cave, they awaken as a dragon."

Coming around a bend in the road, the party pulled up sharply. Blocking the road was a huge horseman, his face hidden by a horned helmet and his drawn axe dripping blood.

"The Death Dealer!" exclaimed Mouser.

Uncowed by their recognition, the legendary horseman spoke:

"Seekers of the Triforce, your quest is at an end. Even as we speak, the forces of the Lidless Eye have already seized the Triforce of Power, and will be collecting the others in due time."

"I think not," Saruman replied, urging his horse forward. "We will not allow-"

"Then you will die!" The huge horse wheeled about to charge the travelers.

"yay! Thog tired of talking too." Charging through the knot of horses, Thog drove his warg forward to meet him.