The Well

A long journey almost ends in disaster.

In the days of old, a weather-beaten ship reached an untamed coast after months upon a merciless sea. Rumors luring its weary crew across endless waters: somewhere inland a mysterious well could grant their deepest desire.

The captain ordered the anchor lowered. The anchor’s chain rattled thunderously as it disappeared beneath the waves. All the passengers sighed with relief as boots finally touched solid earth.

Their expedition was led by a solemn soul known only as the Prophet. Cloaked in faded robes, he claimed destiny had chosen him to find the legendary well. Trusting his certainty, his tribe of hardened, but anxious kinsmen followed without question.

For three exhausting days they marched through tangled forests where thorny brush clawed their clothes and unseen creatures watched from the shadows. Hunger gnawed at them, yet the Prophet never hesitated.

At dawn on the fourth day, the trees suddenly parted. It was nice to bathe in sunlight again. Before them stretched a quiet meadow. In its center rested an ancient stone well surrounded by a circular wall barely three feet high. A rusted iron gate creaked as they pushed it open and stepped inside.

The Prophet raised a trembling hand.

“I'll do it!"

He carefully wrote his greatest wish upon a scrap of paper, placed it inside the wooden bucket, and slowly lowered it until it kissed the dark water below. Silence settled over the meadow. Then he drew the bucket back.

Inside lay the damp paper.

He unfolded it and read aloud, his confident voice breaking.

“There is one greater than you here. Run for your lives if you want to live.”

Then, from inside the well a malevolent creature leapt forward. The Prophet drew his sword killing it. Ending the Trolls curse and transforming them back into human form at last.
WC 300