Deep in thought, the hobbit guided himself down the dirt path until suddenly he realized a strange silence hung over him. The sounds of life were absent, only the hush footsteps of Balamor broke the stillness before even they came to a sudden halt. Almost instinctively he reached for his silver dagger, its polished steel resonated softly as Balamor guided it from its sheath.
Crouching beside a tree a few feet from the road, Balamor scanned his surroundings cautiously. Turning behind him he saw nothing but the narrow trail he left behind thus far, forested on either side. The Faric was concealed beyond thickets and trees, its roaring waters muffled by the plantlife only slightly.
Just as Balamor began to resume his trek, a thunderous crack down the trail whipped through the air along with a white flash which turned the night to day for only a split-second. Balamor was startled by the godly sound, quickly scurrying off the road into the brush quicker than the flash which blinded him. His breathing ceased at sound of footsteps to his left. His eyes followed a thin figure as is strolled past him. Green robes flowed to the earth, draping over a elegant frame, but the face was hidden beyond a deep cowl.
Stopping in the middle of the trail the figure reached beneath it’s robes retrieving a small leather bag, from it was fetched three small stones. Placing them on the ground in the shape of a triangle, the robed figure began to speak in hush tones while grasping the pendant of it’s necklace. Balamor watched in awe as the earth within the triangle began to gather at it’s center. Whipping past the hidden hobbit, gusts of wind directed themselves toward the spectacle. Within moments the earth piled up to nearly match the height of Balamor.
The heavy winds stripped the mound of dirt in chunks which were only pulled back in, unable to escape an unseen force within the stones. Gradually the pile of earth was etched out by the whirlwind. Short stout legs protruded the mound of dirt at its base. Running upward the earth twisted itself into a torso which sprouted arms at its sides. Lastly a short head formed amongst sturdy shoulders, eyes sunk below a thick browline making up its only facial features. The winds calmed almost immediately as the stranger reached into the leather pouch and removed a glass vial.
The hobbit never before witnessed such magic, nor did he believe what he was seeing. However he knew the powers of this figure were far greater than he could imagine. His thoughts were cut short as the stranger kneeled to the earthen being and began to speak,
“Now little one, drink up before your quest begins.”