The frail book falls open, revealing yellowing pages and ink that ran long ago. A few smudges along the side cause some words to be unreadable, but for the most part the handwriting is clear. You begin at the top . . . the smartest place to begin reading the ancient script. Before you can protest, a page falls open, a title labeling it chapter four, and you decide to begin reading from here, instead.




Novafyre's History, Owners, and Notes

Chapter Four - The Making and Finding of the Tavern, Along with Various Ramblings.

I don't write this with a heavy heart, no indeed.� Quite the opposite, actually.� I suppose perhaps, that my work would be in vain if Novafyre isn't standing - that would be rather discouraging, wouldn't it?� But, if you're reading this and the tavern continues to be intact, or even searching through some ancient libraries full of halfway decent authors, I can rest easy. � I say as much not to sound morbid, which would be the opposite, as well. � But, I'm probably not around. Bless my heart, then, to be accurate and follow code.

I wish I could say that Novafyre's history is a long and wonderful epic story, to be sang in tales and praises amongst only the very best bards . . . but that's not the case. � Well, maybe it is . . . that is something left for you to decide.

Ah, I could go on for hours about how this tavern was my dream as a little girl . . . of how instead of wanting a pony; I wanted to be the owner of a tavern.� Nay, that would be a book full of lies, and who wants to read that, except everyone?

Anyway.

To begin on a light and positive note ( yes, it is possible ) we will start by saying, "Novafyre was a dream." � 'A dream?' you might ask. �Aye, it was so a dream. � And a wondrous one, at that. �But not an, "I wish I had a tavern," dream. �I dreamt it one night . . . it must've been when I was but a very young child.� I saw a forest shrouded in mists, and out of those mists, a light shone.� I felt my 'dream-self' walking towards this light, and discovered an abandoned establishment. � A lovely one, though rather run down. � Oh, of course I had to fix it up. � What sort of child would let the opportunity pass, to have her very own house to escape to, from her chores and parents? �I wasn't the sort of child that would. � I went out to the forest as soon as I woke up the next day, following the path that I saw in my dream.� No one led me to it - who could?� I did find Novafyre, and went out every day, telling my mother I had made a new friend in the village, and that he was a lovely little boy that was my new best friend. � She believed it, or pretended like she did, and didn't bother me when a hammer or curtain was missing from our house.

I worked as hard as a young girl was able to fix up the tavern, and it took a good year before I brought any of my friends to see it.� They were all overjoyed, as was I, and of course we had to make a club that only we knew about . . . no boys allowed, of course.

After a summer of spending each weekend in Novafyre, it lost its charm.� To them, that is. I still spent my days in the surrounding forests - the Forest of Music and the border of the Faewoods - reading borrowed books from the town library, that sort of thing.

One day, ( don't all stories lead up to the 'one day' or 'one night' climax? ) I was in the tavern, of course. � No, I was standing outside, gazing up at the sun, or in the vicinity of the sun, so as not to blind myself. �I was not a stupid child.� An unexpected breeze flew by me, ruffling my hair.� An ancient woman stepped around from the backside of a tree; her clothes looking like she swept up some of the landscape and draped it around herself, creating a myriad of earthy hues. � She herself looked as if she'd fall over at any second; my imagination led me to picture her being carried away by the wind.� I laughed at this thought, for it seemed so vivid that I saw her arm raise and fall, as if protesting to being taken away.� She smiled to me, a strange, cryptic smile, one I couldn't be sure what the meaning was . . . but I didn't ask, simply stood, waiting to see what the stranger wanted. � She stepped toward me, always wearing that strange smile, oh, and was it strange!� I can't very well describe it in words, but it was like half of her lip was drawn up, and that was protesting to be drawn up, and the other half was down and quivering, as if it wanted to up, but wasn't allowed. �She said to me, she said : "Child, whatever are you doing in this old tavern?" � I didn't answer her, only shrugged.� What was I s'posed to say? � She could be a raging adult looking to rid all children of their happiness - but didn't really look that way.

"This tavern, you know, used to be very prosperous, a long, long time ago.� Are you thinking of opening it again?" �she asked me, speaking now as if I was a fully grown human being, capable of dealing with such things that came with being a fully grown human being.� I nodded a few times, absently perhaps, for again, I didn't know how she wanted me to respond.

"Wonderful!"� she exclaimed, crossing the rest of the distance between us and sweeping into the tavern.� Her form smelled of pine, it seemed, like the trees that bordered the edges of the mountains always away from where I stood.

I followed her into the tavern, intrigued to see what she thought about my fixing it up. �She didn't let on if she thought anything, just flew about the area in a mad flurry of green and brown hues, moss flying every which way. � She paused, facing me. �"You must protect this tavern and make it useful to yourself, should you open it again," she told me. I didn't know what she was talking about . . .

Later on, in the midst of sitting her down and finally trying to get some sense out of her, everything clicked.� Ideas flew into my brain, various strange occurrences clouding my thoughts.� I knew every single thing that had to be done, things I needed to search for, things I needed to save up for, et cetera. � This had become a dream for me.� A goal I could work for . . .

When I told my parents of my new plan, they didn't take very nicely to it. �They insisted that it was a phase I'd grow out of, something that I didn't really need to do, that I should go work in a nice store or something, rather a 'dusty old tavern in the middle of nowhere'. �I shrugged off their comments, did I, and continued to fill my tavern with my hopes and wishes.

How horribly corny this sounds, so far!� Ah, well, ignore it, and pretend it's a gruesome tale of death and destruction, and mayhap it'll be more toward your liking.

So I went to the local libraries, the local herb shops, the local anything, for you cannot get very far when you have over-protective parents and only your feet to carry you.� I searched through every book I could find, finding the correct spells and enchantments needed to place on the tavern.� This research alone took more then the good part of two years, agonizingly slow searching, for my resources were limited, as mentioned above. �I found one for making drinks appear with the flick of your wrist, one that makes the doors on the inn upstairs not need a key, one that make the tavern un-burn-down'able . . . all the things that remain on the tavern today, if it should stand, as I said.� Like the strange-smile, I cannot express how hard it was go find all of these things . . . it took more time and dedication then I thought I had in me.� I must say, I believe it paid off, and if Novafyre is even one of its patron's favorite establishment, then I'm a happy person.

I ask only that the owners and caretakers of this tavern leave their name for the future generation, wouldn't it be nice to see a crippled old woman wandering down the road and be able to exclaim, "You owned Novafyre before!" �Aye, that would be a sight.

Oh!� Another thing.� The symbol on the door, the lightening bolt with a circle around it, is the symbol that will mark anything belonging to Novafyre.� The owner will have to wear a small necklace whose chain will never break, that will link them directly to the tavern, it lending them various powers, should they need them.� This necklace is rather important, it was around since the establishment was constructed, or so the strange woman told me when she lectured me about its history, none of which had any relevance unto this point.� For this was the first time in many decades, perhaps even a century, that the tavern thrived in business.� I was very proud of my tavern, I was.� It was a second home to me; maybe I could even dare to call it my first!

The tavern no doubt has gone through many changes since I've written this, but hopefully changes for the good and not bad.� Simple appearence changes, maybe.

Ah, well, so ends my rambling for this chapter.� Assured it will be continued, but at a later date . . . my hand is becoming frightfully tired.

To whom has payed even slight attention to this - well wishes, and I do hope this passage is read with only the most open of minds . . . and that the reader has gained further knowledge of the tavern they have shared a drink, and perhaps more, in.

G'night.
- Cairona D'reesi



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