“You’re that trouble maker!” The older Olvi is snapped from his daydream to see a young Halfling girl standing before him. “That's one of the more polite things I’ve been called,” Rifkinn replies with a sly smirk on his face.

With a boldness the girl states, “They say that's all you do is cause trouble.”

“And what do you think I do?”, Rifkinn asks. The girl looks puzzled by this. “I don’t know,” the girl shrugs. “I’ve only heard things about you. I've just seen people point and whisper things.”

Smiling at the honesty in the girl’s tone Rifkinn replies, “And you thought you would see if it is true, eh?”. The young halfing hesitantly nods, a hint of uncertainty in her action.

“You must be a brave one to approach me, then. I could be a mean Olvi who would just growl at you.” Rifkinn playfully growls at her, making faces, which causes the young Olvi to giggle in return. Looking around the older Olvi says “I didn't think anyone else knew about this spot. Are you the one who’s looking for trouble, maybe?”, asks Rifkinn, raising his eyebrow.

“Maybe! Or maybe trouble just finds me!” Laughing at the girl’s response Rifkinn replies, “You’re an interesting one. Mischief is maybe what you're looking for?”

The young Halfling ignores Rifkinns comment while she rummages through a small backpack she wears. Finally finding what she is looking for, she pulls out a small doll. The doll is wearing a tattered black robe with red paint on it. It’s face is stitched to display an angry expression, and it is holding a staff. Rifkinn looks at the doll, and back up at her face. With a playful smile she adjusts it’s cloak and straightens it’s staff.

After a few moments pause the older Halfling breaks the silence…

“You know Thipbeet, the halfling lass who makes those wonderful tarts? Have you seen how much care and time she puts into making them? She makes the dough, mixing and then kneading it til it's just right. Then she puts together the fillings, all kinds of wonderful things go into them. Everything from bacon and pumpkin, cheeses and salmon. And my favorite the ice cream tarts…

“Thipbeet takes a lot of time baking those, and when the pastry comes out of the ovens they are left out to cool. Sometimes, and don't say i told you this, an insect or a butterfly may land on one, or maybe there are a few specks of ash from the oven fires. Thipbeet will just brush it off. A few harmless specks don't matter much. It doesn't spoil the taste, and what people dont know doesnt hurt...
I've even seen the odd one crack or split, and she knows how to put it back together, or will hide the imperfections with the fillings. Everything has a slight scar in its nature, but overall they still taste delicious.”

Rifkinn is almost lost in the thought of those tarts as he continues to speak….

“But just the other day, I saw her throwing out a full batch of tarts, so I asked her why.
'They are spoilt!' she told me. ‘I had made the mistake of buying this cheap baking flour from a human trader. It was really cheap, so I thought it was an easy way to save money.’ Thipbeet started to get rather annoyed while she was telling me this. ‘It wasn't until after I had finished that I noticed there were weevils in the flower!’ She told me…”

“Weevils? Ewww!” exclaims the young Olvi. Rifkinn grins and nods.

“You see, she had to get rid of the whole batch of tarts. They still looked and smelled so good, and you couldn't even tell what was inside of them. They seemed no different to all the other tarts that you see on display. But inside, the pastry was corrupted by something that couldn't be removed. No matter what she would do, the tarts were just bad. Maybe at first, someone eating it might just get a little sick. Maybe not.” Rifkinn shrugged. “But after a day, the dead weevils inside the tart would rot even more, and the poison from this would corrupt the tarts further. Until even just one bite from a tart would make the strongest person very, very sick. Maybe even kill them. Thipbeet needs to be most vigilant about what she bakes and puts out for people to enjoy. She can never be complacent about this.”

“What's complacent?”, the little Olvi asks. Rifkinn stops for a moment and pauses with a thoughtful expression across his face. “Complacent is the chasm or the nothing that lies between someone's passion and desperation.”

The child stares back at Rifkinn with puzzled eyes….

“Did your mother ever tell you about the war against Lyras the Devourer?” he asks her. Looking down, with a sad look on her face the young Olvi nods. “I lost my grandparents during that time, and many family friends. All these people close to me but I never knew them.” Rifkinn gazes at her with that all too familiar mix of feelings. The sadness of seeing the loss that the young girl has experienced, and the rage from the actions that had caused this. Rifkinn, letting the young girl feel her own pain, gently goes on to explain his words.

”When the war broke out, there was a lot of fear across our lands. People saw the devastation that came from all of this, and especially when Prince Vorclaf fell at the hands of that monster, people were left devastated, but mostly desperate. They knew something had to be done. So they all came together, and in the pain of this desperation they were willing to give up anything to avenge Vorclaf’s death and free themselves from the possibility of what Lyras was bringing….

Out of desperation came victory for the people, and as you know, Lyras was finally defeated. Desperation turned to passion. Passion to continue to live, and to fight against something that stood to destroy them, and all they knew and loved.
Time, sadly has the ability to blur this. We forget what's important to us, and we slip into complacency… We lose our desperation and our passion.”

The young Halfling looks at Rifkinn and exclaims, “You weren't talking about tarts before, were you?” He smiles at the girl, a look of pride in his face seeing the wisdom that came from someone so young.

“All of us need to be careful of what we do, and what we believe. Some things seem innocent and unimportant. That maybe on the surface the tart looks and smells wonderful. But, we need to take great care in what we eat.
Always be careful of who you buy your tarts from. And most of all,.... Not everyone who sells tarts are bakers. They are the ones who are most dangerous. They are the ones who will sell you lies in the form of something sweet.”

The young girl now seems less interested in her doll, looking down at the ground, while mindlessly letting the toy dangle from her hand.

“Have you thought about joining a guild when you get older?”, Rifkinn casually asks.

“My parents are traders. They’re not very well known, but they do ok.” The young girl shrugs her shoulders.

“An honourable guild. Daffleberry Tanglefoot, who founded Arthe dale, was a merchant. There are many great Olvi Traders! There are other guilds as well, some that would very much like to see that mischievous grin of yours grow.” The young Olvi looks at Rifkinn puzzled.

“Now, as for those tarts cooling on the windowsill...” Rifkinn glances around suspiciously and quietly says, “I bet you can't get one without Thripbeet knowing!” A wide grin spreads across the young halfling’s face.

“Bet I can!” says the girl as she stands up, and starts to casually walk over to the side of Thipbeet’s cottage.

With reflexes and agility that impress Rifkinn, the young Olvi is racing back to his side with a tart in each hand. Over the girl’s shoulder Rifkinn sees Thipbeet storming out her shop. She is about to yell out to the girl when she sees Rifkinn smiling at her and holding a platinum coin in his hand. Shaking her head, Thipbeet grins and walks back into her shop instead.


Out of breath the young Olvi pants, “I got us one each” a wide grin on her face. Rifkinn takes the tart and smirks, “She didn't even see you, not bad.” he says with a wink and a grin.

“I got something else for you” Reaching into his haversack Rifkinn takes out a blonde Kaldar doll wearing a tophat” Carefully, and trying to do so without notice, he removes the dolls top hat and places it in his pocket. The girl sees Rifkinns movements but pretends not to notice.

“This one kept me company when i was off travelling, She kept me safe, and reminded me of home. She is very special to me, but i think she has someone else to look after her now.”

He hands the doll to the little girl who takes it with a surprised look.

“She is much prettier than this ratty looking other doll i have. What should i do with it?” Motioning to it she kicks the old doll that is lying in the dirt.

“Why don't we burn it. It looks to me as though its had its day. Time to get rid of it don't you think?” Rifkinn says with an almost malevolent tone to his voice and a glower in his eyes.

The young Olvi looks surprised at Rifkinns comment, though also a hint of wildness in her eyes at the prospect of seeing the destruction of the old doll.
He takes out his flint from his thigh pouch, un-sheaths his blade and proceeds to shower the doll with sparks until it ignites. The doll burns for a few minutes until only a burnt sooty patch is left on the ground at their feet. Both Olvi the young and old are left with the same satisfied grin on their face.

While Rifkinn is still looking down at the blackened remains, the silence is broken by a question from the young Halfling. “If you gave me her....” not looking at Rifkinn but now smoothing out the blonde hair of the new doll, "Won't you have nothing to look after”?

Rifkinn looks up about to answer the girl, but he is cut short by a female Gnomes voice calling him from the distance. “Here you are!“

“I think it's time you got home to your parents, it's getting dark, off you go now” Rifkinn says distractedly.

As the young Olvi stands up to thank the older Halfling for the company and gift, she sees that he is not noticing her anymore, a content smile is on his face and his eyes lost in the direction of the voice.