I stepped through the small brown door eagerly, the cold winter air biting at the back of my neck.

The door creaked as I shut it; I quickly pulled my jacket tighter with a shudder. As I stood in front of

the closed door, I noticed how the shop was empty. The walls were lined with books, the air was

musty. Confused, I stepped towards the counter still with no sight of anyone. “Must be out”  I

muttered to myself. I then decided to look through the books. Running my finger along the bottom

of the shelf, I read the name of each book in my head. White’s Folly, How to Work a Calculator: the

Basics, Mountains And Men. Shortly my finger came to a large, leather bound book. Dusting the

spine, I noticed that it had no name, just the number 1. I slipped the book from the shelf and

brushed my hand over its cover. Blank. I walked with the book back to the counter, still with no sign

of anyone, I set it down. Glancing back at the door, I noticed it had begun to snow. Looking back

down at the book, I opened the front cover and lightly set it down. I began to read… 

O O O

Daniel

Daniel lifted the ladle and sipped the broth. “I think it needs more… salt?”  He said, looking up to

Head Chef for approval. The Head Chef‘s eyes squinted under his thick brow, and he carefully lifted a

small spoon. Filling its bowl he tasted it. Daniel watched eagerly as Head Chef swilled the broth and

then swallowed it. A nod followed. With a look of relief flushing over Daniel’s face he quickly

grabbed the salt, measured a teaspoon, and mixed it into the simmering broth.

Shortly the broth was taken to be served after it was re-tasted, seasoned again, tasted again,

seasoned and then tasted a final time. Not being hungry, Daniel shortly left the cookhouse and made

his way back to his home. Daniel lived in a fairly small building on the edge of the village. It had large

grey-stone walls, a thatched roof and a large wooden door. On his way home, Daniel passed many

familiar faces. The baker, with his large bald, round head; Or the town priest, with his long, grey

beard. Although all these faces brought a smile to Daniel’s, none of them created feelings like those

he had for Rose.

Rose was the blacksmith’s daughter. She had fiery, vibrant auburn hair which almost glowed when

she was working the forge. Her hair was long and wavy, curling at its tip. This smooth hair framed

her face. A face that consisted of a small button nose, bright blue eyes and lips that always smiled.

Although the shape of her face resembled her father; Daniel had fallen in love with her rough,

feminine looks. She had a slight, feminine figure and she was relatively tall in comparison to the

other women of the village. Daniel had only ever seen her when she was working in the forge,

usually being sent there by Head Chef to repair pots or pans that had broken. Whenever he was

stood around the hot coals while Rose worked, his heart fluttered and his mind wandered. He smiled

whenever he heard her light, smooth voice. However whenever she looked his direction, his cheeked

flushed with red and he could not face her. She intimidated Daniel. She was taller, stronger and

slightly older; throughout their childhood she had always been on the side of Bertram. Bertram the

bully. This did not put Daniel off however; he had been in love with her for almost 5 years. And she

had hated him.

“Daniel!” Rose called after him as he was just about to walk through his door. He quickly spun

around on one foot and faced her, smile on his face. “R-Rose!” He exclaimed with a stutter, quickly

straightening his shirt. “What are you doing here?” He looked at a package she had in her hand, and

she was still in her working clothes. “I…I heard about your father”  She said quietly, and softly. It was

probably the nicest way she had ever said something to Daniel. “I’m sorry. My father told me to give

you this”  She continued, raising her hand and holding out the parcel. “Thanks I guess” Daniel replied

sheepishly as he took the package, feeling its weight. He quickly observed it and ripped through the

 

paper it was wrapped in. It was a dagger, sheathed in an ornate, leather cover. “He said it was your

 fathers”  She continued. Daniel nodded and continued tostudy the weapon. “The blade is elvish, I

repaired it myself ” Rose said this with pride and her face showed it. “Well thanks I suppose.”  Daniel

said shortly after examining the gift. Shortly after this, they exchanged good-byes and Daniel went

inside his house. Shortly after closing the thick, wooden door he tossed the dagger on the table. The

resultant bang echoed through the main-room in his house. Moving a pile of books from a chair, he

sat down with a sigh. Daniel sat rubbing his eyes, his knuckles getting wet. He breathed heavily and

slouched into the back of the chair, closing his eyes and thinking of his father. His father was a tall,

broad shouldered, giant of a man. He had the brains and the brawn; he was everything Daniel

wished he was. Slowly, as Daniel remembered some of the few moments he had with his father, he

drifted to sleep.

Daniel was awoken by three loud thuds on his door. He abruptly sat up and blinked. “Daniel! Daniel

quickly!”  The deep voice penetrated the door and made Daniel shudder. Nonetheless he quickly

 jumped up and opened the door. There stood the blacksmith, his already blackened face only

illuminated by the candlelight from inside. Daniel stood confused while the blacksmith stood

worried, sweat dripping down his face. Something flickered in the corner of Daniel’s eye, and when

he looked down a sword looked back. A look of fear washed across his now pale face. “Wh-What is

that?”  He glanced again at the sword. “There’s no time for all that, get to the smithy!”  The

blacksmith replied, pulling Daniel from the door and pushing him towards the Blacksmith’s.

Daniel was sent stumbling into the night and as he gathered himself he looked around and noticed

something, fire. Windows were broken, roofs on fire and people screaming. He began to panic, his

breath quickening. As he ran through the night, the floor illuminated with an orange glow, he heard

a scream from behind. Glancing back he tripped, falling into dust and stones. Letting out a small cry

he quickly scrambled back up and was shortly at the blacksmith’s forge. It was pitch black by the

time he made it into the main hall of the blacksmiths. He groped the walls as he searched the place,

room by room. After going through several empty rooms and locked doors, he pressed on the pantry

door. The door flung open far easier than expected and Daniel fell through the space and into the

dimly lit room. “Daniel?”  Rose stood up almost instantly and stepped towards Daniel, out of the

shadow, and her hair caught the candlelight. Alone in the middle of the room she looked more

intimidating than ever. “Where…Where is my father?”  She exclaimed with a worried look. Daniel

looked back out the door and began stuttering what he had seen.

Interrupted by a high-pitched screech, Daniel and Rose both shared a glance and then looked

towards the origin of the noise.”Come on!”  Rose brushed past Daniel with one hand on her sword

and ran out. Daniel stood stunned. Would he follow Rose? He knew she didn’t think highly of him,

but what if there was danger out there? He would never forgive himself if she got hurt. But what if

there was danger out there? Daniel had never fought in his life, let alone with a blade. The only knife

he had held was to cut cabbages and turnips for stews; the only time he had killed anything was a rat

in the pantry once. He let out an anxious sigh and his eyes darted around the dim-lit room. A chair, a

candle, a table. As his eyes landed on the table, he noticed a rolling pin lightly covered in flour. He

seized the rolling pin with a firm grip, and went to follow Rose out. When he got outside, Rose was

nowhere to be seen. He looked to his left and saw the Baker running from his house. The Baker

stumbled across the path and looked towards Daniel. Their eyes met with a look of sadness in The

Baker’s eyes. Then from a swift blow to the back, The Baker fell to the floor, his bald head glowed

due to fire spreading across his house. There in the darkness stood a figure; A broad, yet short,

being. All that Daniel could make out was his lightly illuminated axe, red from The Baker’s blood.