“Of Lions, Of Dragons, Of Oz.”

A Nagol Story Book,

Part One of Some.

By Eli Lleoz

Once upon a time, there was a half crazy, half cool guy named Yzarc. As things would be, Yzarc had a little brother, or bother, whose name was generally believed to be Nagol, though there are some doubts. Being a responsible boy of about ten, Nagol felt it his duty to take up a job so that he could support his family, expand his horizons, and have enough money to buy ice-cream occasionally. Thus, it came about that he was employed at the Sector 23 Zoo.

You see, of course, that Sector 23 is a small plot of land which was devoted to the habitation of a certain person named Amos, but that’s not really important, so we’ll go on. Nagol’s particular job at the moment was that of feeding the lions at the Sector 23 Zoo’s ‘wild and dangerous animals’ exhibit. It wasn’t much in the way of a job, but at least it was a step above Nagol’s previous position, shoveling up and wheel barrowing away elephant dung. Somehow, Nagol had never been really content with the title of ‘elephant dung removal person,’ and ‘lion keeper’ was at least a bit more dignified.

The job of lion keeper was both rewarding and dangerous. You see, every day Nagol had to face the wrath of Big Bad Bruce, the zoo’s fiercest lion. Each day, he dreaded approaching the fearsome lion who appeared to still resent having been taken from his natural position as king of the jungle and put in a zoo. To make up for this disgrace, Big Bad Bruce tried to make everyone’s life as miserable as possible. From morning to dusk, he roared furiously at any passersby. And after dusk, he had especial fun because it was harder for his victims to see the bars that kept him safely at bay. Of course, Nagol was the only one around at night since all the visitors to the zoo had long since left before dusk. But every night Nagol bravely marched across the zoo to give the lions their evening meal. Sometimes as he worked, Nagol contemplated his life. His job wasn’t too bad; sure he had to work long hours and the pay was lousy, but at least he had a good insurance policy. Each night Nagol went out confident that should Big Bad Bruce succeed in eating him that night instead of his normal dinner, then at least Nagol’s relatives would receive a nice check from the Sector 23 zoo. It was a comforting thought at least.

So, that’s how Nagol’s life may have gone on for quite a long time, if something hadn’t happened to change his life radically. One day, after Nagol had finished feeding the lions and was cleaning out the dish that he carried their meals, raw steak, out in, he overheard the conversation of a few people walking by. This wasn’t unusual, Nagol picked up bits of other people’s conversations all the time, you tend to if you listen quietly, what was unusual was what Nagol heard the people talking about.

“….so, you hear about what happened to Yzarc?” one of the people said just loud enough so that Nagol could hear that part of their sentence.

“You mean the guy who’s in charge of STSFAI?” the other asked inquisitively.

“Yeah, well, anyways, he was working on this thing called the Octagon Smasher…”

As the people drifted further along, Nagol could no longer understand what they were saying, but what he had heard was quite exciting news to him. For you must have noticed, the people mentioned Yzarc, Nagol’s brother. Furthermore, they had mentioned him as being the head of the STSFAI, which Nagol recognized as being a very important organization. The Sector Twenty-three Security Force for Alien Intelligence, Nagol thought to himself, my brother is head of The Sector Twenty-three Security Force for Alien Intelligence! Nagol wasn’t exactly sure how Yzarc was his brother, or why, but he determined that he should go and find him. Who knew, maybe Yzarc would be able to get him a promotion so he could be ‘Official Lion Trainer Type Person’ instead of just ‘Lion Keeper’ which really meant feeding the lions three times a day and getting scared to death. Nagol had watched the lion trainer once and he didn’t seem to be nearly so afraid of Big Bad Bruce as Nagol was. Nagol was sure if he got a whip too he would be so much happier.

Nagol finished cleaning the bowl he had fed the lions in and left work early. He wondered if the lions would be upset at not getting their next meal around six and again at around ten o’clock, but decided not to worry too much about it. In a matter of ten minutes he was off and would soon start on the first of many great adventures in his life. But he didn’t know that yet, for now he was just gong to try and find his brother and ask for a promotion. Nagol wasn’t sure if the Sector 23 Zoo fell under the jurisdiction of the STSFAI, but even if it didn’t Nagol was sure his brother would be able to get him promoted somehow. The other thing Nagol didn’t know was that his brother, Yzarc, had been demoted.

After wandering around lost for about ten minutes and having to consult at least two of those maps that magically know that ‘you are here,’ Nagol realized he seriously needed to get out more. For those of you who didn’t know this, if you get lost anytime you step off the path that leads from your work to your house, then you probably have a problem. Eventually, Nagol found the STSFAI headquarters, an ominous looking government building with a giant satellite dish sticking out of the top. Nagol approached the double doors in the front and was exited to notice the doors spring open welcomingly at his approach. It made him feel as if he was wanted and everything was good with the world. Strolling jubilantly into the building, Nagol approached the front desk and addressed the secretary sitting there.

“I’m here to see Yzarc,” Nagol said smiling and then added, “Official Octagon-Smasher stuff.”

Nagol remembered that the people he had overheard had mentioned some ‘Octagon-Smasher’ in conjunction with Yzarc.

“You’re here to see Yzarc?” the secretary replied raising a critical eyebrow, “On official Octagon-Smasher business? Is that so, eh?”

“Well it’s not that official,” Nagol confessed, “Just sort of, you know…”

“Yeah, I know,” the secretary replied.

“Well then,” Nagol said.

He was promptly throw out of the STSFAI headquarters and informed that he had best not show up again. Nagol had a few unkind words for the man who had done the forcibly removal but was kind enough not to say them in front of the secretary who he was pretty sure was a lady.

With his first plan pretty much ruined, Nagol had no idea what to do. A rather kind gentleman on the street informed Nagol that Yzarc had been ‘removed’ from the STSFAI for ‘official Octagon-Smasher business’ and could now be found at a place called Adventures Unlimited. Looking around for such a building and not immediately spying it, Nagol turned back around to ask the kind old gentleman for directions. He wasn’t there. Nonetheless, Nagol now knew where Yzarc was and he intended to find him.

This time, the friendly ‘you are here’ signs were very little help at all. Apparently even though they knew exactly where Nagol was, they had no real idea as to where Yzarc was. Nagol thought about asking for directions, but then again he was a guy and that would have been out of character. Ultimately, the plan Nagol decided upon was to wander around Sector 23 until he found Adventures Unlimited. Nagol had once heard that you always find a thing in the last place you look, so he went to all the places he would have looked last hoping to find what he was looking for. Of course, all the places Nagol would have looked last were quite out of the way which meant he spent a great deal of the day tramping through swamp, bog, and every other wet kind of terrain that could be found in Sector 23. Needless to say, Nagol found Adventures Unlimited in the last place he looked.

Adventures Unlimited, he discovered amounted to little more then an old wooden fort with a crudely painted sigh that read plainly ‘Adventures Unlimited.’ After having been convinced in a single day that his brother was first dead, then a high power government executive, then a political refugee hiding from a corrupt government, the last one Nagol had thought of while trekking through a particularly unpleasant swamp, the truth about his brother was quite disappointing to Nagol. Feeling quite a bit disillusioned, Nagol decided not to actually visit Adventures Unlimited, but rather to just call it a day and return to his home.

By the time he found his way home, Nagol was thoroughly exhausted. He raced up the stairs to his room and immediately collapsed onto the bed. Before even bothering to change out of his uniform for work, which he had worn all day and gotten torn in a few places, Nagol fell sound asleep. It was a good night; Nagol didn’t dream about killer bunny rabbits, or falling off of high places, he didn’t even dream about finally being eaten by Big Bad Bruce. The next morning he had to get up a short while after the alarm in his room went off. The alarm was quite a mysterious thing to Nagol, he never touched it, but on weekdays his clock/radio would suddenly start singing at the absurd hour of six in the morning. Nagol usually was able to sleep through the alarm’s going off itself, but once it even started to get him awake he would never get back to sleep. The neatest thing about the alarm was that it never went off on weekends or holidays, only on those days when Nagol had to work anyways. But this morning, Nagol had resolved he wouldn’t go to work. Instead he was going to find his brother at Adventures Unlimited. It was quite a thrilling prospect.

For some reason, Nagol had a feeling that a visit to a place like Adventures Unlimited would inevitably lead to an adventure, so he decided to pack his bags ahead of time. First he packed what he hoped would be enough clean socks, then a few changes of clothing, and also some food. Along with these essentials, Nagol also thought to pack a few things that he thought would be especially useful in the case of an adventure, such as a compass. Throwing his newly packed bags onto his bed so he could get them if he needed them later, Nagol had a quick breakfast and was out of the door.

It was a clear, sunny day when Nagol walked into Adventures Unlimited and encountered his brother, Yzarc.

“Hello, how are you?” Nagol ventured unsure if the person sitting behind the desk in front of him was Yzarc.

“Fine,” the man replied hardly even looking up.

“I’m sorry,” Nagol said, “Are you Yzarc?”

“If I am, what’s it to you?” the man demanded immediately getting defensive, “Do hurry this up, I don’t have all day. Well, I do, but still…”

“So you are Yzarc, then,” Nagol inferred.

“Yes!” Yzarc suddenly exclaimed, “Now who are you, and what do you want.”

“It’s just a small thing,” Nagol replied, “You see, I’m Yzarc’s brother. That would make me yours, if you are Yzarc.”

“That’s impossible, entirely impossible,” Yzarc stammered, “My brother was eaten by Big Bad Bruce…”

Yzarc proceeded to go on and on about the day he had received a telegram informing him that his little, innocent, unsuspecting brother had been eaten by a terrible, vicious, frightful lion. For lack of anything better to say, he then proceeded with his life story. Perhaps a good two or three minutes later, Yzarc finished talking. That, or he just ran out of things to say and even though his mouth keep moving no words came out.

Nagol, being the kind considerate person he was, calmly informed Yzarc that he was not, in fact, dead. The truth of the matter was that Nagol was very much alive. Nagol considered telling Yzarc his life story, but he couldn’t think of anything much to say except that he had met a very kind old gentleman on the street yesterday. Nagol very much doubted that his big brother would be impressed by anything so simple as that. Clearly, big brothers had better things to do then discuss kind old gentlemen who seem to know a great deal more then silly little boys, Nagol thought to himself.

“So, what can I do for you?” Yzarc asked noticing the pause.

“Well, since you can’t possibly get a promotion for me, like I hoped you would,” Nagol reasoned aloud, “What else could you do for me? Let’s see… I don’t suppose you could do a headstand, that would be funny. Do you know any pig Latin? I’ve always wanted to learn a foreign language. No, I suppose you wouldn’t. I know! Since you are in charge of this great place called Adventures Unlimited, maybe you could recommend an adventure for me…”

“Now why would you want to go on an adventure?” Yzarc argued, “Just now having overcome being eaten by a lion?”

“I dunno,” Nagol replied, “Maybe I should like to be eaten by something besides lions for a change…”

“Very well then, I know of the perfect adventure for you!”

“You do!”

“Yes, it’s absolutely perfect, just stupendous, why I’ll bet it’s the one for you?”

“Where is it?”

“Well, you see,” said Yzarc spreading out a map on the table, “Right here, that’s the driveway that leads out of Sector 23. And there, that’s highway C. And over there, that’s a giant radioactive crater. I think it got there because of me, it’s a very good place for an adventure.”

“Okay then,” Nagol replied, “I shall make sure that I avoid it…”

“Huh?”

“I don’t really want to be eaten by anything at all, not by lions, not by anything else. I especially don’t want to be eaten by a giant radioactive crater!”

“Eaten?” Yzarc mumbled confused.

“I dare say I’ll go to Canada instead,” Nagol said and walked out of the door without so much as another word to Yzarc.

Yzarc sat there with a stunned look on his face and wondered if he had just seen a ghost, not that Yzarc even believed in ghosts.

Five minutes later, Nagol was well away from Adventures Unlimited, and his recent meeting with his older brother had almost completely disappeared from his mind. He was going on an adventure, and he was going to make the best of it. Nagol wasn’t really sure where he was going; he had told Yzarc he was going to Canada, so he thought it best to try and make good on that comment. Of course, the first thing he had to do was to go to his room and get the bag that he had packed earlier that morning. Then, he had to figure out exactly where he was going, or perhaps he would rather not; Nagol had a romantic idea that adventures that weren’t planned in advance were probably the best. Ultimately, what Nagol decided was to point his compass north and start walking. He wasn’t sure where he was going, perhaps to Snowtree National park, perhaps somewhere else.

Wandering in what was generally a northern direction, Nagol soon realized that there was at least one problem in his brilliant plan to have an adventure. That problem was that upon going as north as possible, Nagol soon discovered that he was trekking through a terrible, boggy swamp. ‘Oh well,’ Nagol reasoned, ‘It’ll freeze over soon enough; I must be getting close to Canada by now, maybe even the north pole.’ Ten minutes and innumerable spider webs later, Nagol still hadn’t reached Canada and was getting quite tired of his adventure. Dutifully, however, he trekked on. Nagol reassured himself that he hadn’t set out on a grand adventure like this just to turn around midway through it. Glancing down at his watch, Nagol realized he wasn’t wearing one. Apparently he had forgotten to put it on that morning. ‘Oh well,’ Nagol consoled himself, ‘I’m on an adventure, I don’t need my watch anymore.’ It wouldn’t have mattered if Nagol did want his watch since he had lost it a month before, soon after getting it in the first place.

Methodically Nagol pushed on, carefully picking his way among the various shrubs of the swamp which he observed were primarily alder brush. Nagol wondered if there was a spot of higher land nearby so he could escape from the swamp. Virtually everything about the swamp displeased Nagol. Besides the spider webs and ugly alder brush, the ground made a horrible slucking sound every time Nagol lifted his feet. Eventually what Nagol tried to do was to make his way from one patch of high ground to the next. This way, he avoided stepping in the mud too which meant he not only avoided the slucking sound, but also avoided getting his good shoes too muddy. Looking down at his shoes, Nagol realized they were no longer his good shoes by any stretch of the imagination. Altruistically, Nagol tried to scrape most of the mud off of the sides and bottom of his shoes. He hoped that he would be far enough north soon that there would be snow. Snow, he had observed, was good for cleaning off ones shoes.

Sometimes, when Nagol had to get from one high place to another, so as to avoid stepping in as much mud as possible, Nagol would get a long stick and pole vault from one island to another. It wasn’t a very efficient form of transportation, but it was pretty fun at least. Nagol was preparing to make a gargantuan leap across a puddle that was almost ten feet across when, halfway through his jump, he was distracted by a strange sound coming from somewhere. Nagol completely lost his concentration, and ended up landing in the mud. Now, not only were his shoes dirty, but he was completely covered in mud. Nagol wiped off as much of the mud as he could, and then tried to see if he couldn’t find where that mysterious moaning had come from. It had been, from Nagol’s perspective, a most peculiar sound. The sound might have been made by either a terrible monster or an odd but harmless bird exactly as easily. If it was a monster, Nagol thought to himself, he would slay it, and if it was a odd, but harmless, bird then he would befriend it.

As he looked around, Nagol noticed that the sound had been made neither by a monster, nor an odd, but harmless, bird but rather by a hole in the ground. The hole was perhaps ten feet across, and presumably just as deep, and appeared to be filling with water. Not only that, but the hole was making more odd moaning noises. Wondering why any such hole would be moaning so loudly and so spiritedly, Nagol climbed to the edge and peered inside. What he saw shocked and amazed him. If he didn’t know better, Nagol would have taken the figure standing up to his waist in water for a hobbit. A hobbit, of course, is a most peculiar type of fellow who stands half as tall as a man and full as tall as a young boy such as Nagol. This one was round, a normal state of affairs for a hobbit, and appeared to be far too short to get out of the hole he had gotten himself stuck in.

“Hello,” Nagol cried down excitedly, “Are you a hobbit?”

“Get me out of this hole and maybe I’ll tell you,” the hobbit replied without even looking up at Nagol.

“What’s your name?” Nagol said excited to have found a new friend, “And what on earth are you doing in this hole?”

“Get me out and I might decide to tell you,” the hobbit mumbled just loud enough for Nagol to hear.

Looking around, Nagol grabbed the stick he had been using to pole vault from place to place, and lowered it into the hole. Seeing the stick, the hobbit took hold of one end and raised himself to his feet. Apparently the hobbit had been sitting before, and the water was not up to his waist, but rather only a little above his ankles. He gave the stick a sort of testing tug and pulled it right out of Nagol’s hand.

“That won’t do,” the hobbit griped, “See, I would have fallen and hurt myself. Now go and think of something else.”

The hobbit sat back down leaving Nagol to figure out how to get him out of the hole. What Nagol eventually decided was that if he filled the hole up, the hobbit would just be able to walk out. Without even telling the hobbit he began throwing debris into the hole.

“I meant for you to get me out, not bury me!” the hobbit exclaimed immediately.

“I don’t mean to bury you,” Nagol explained, “just to fill up this hole so as to allow you to climb out.”

“That will never do,” the hobbit replied, “You shall have to make a rope latter, and a sturdy one at that.”

“I can’t make a rope ladder,” Nagol protested, “I’m only a boy of ten!”

“I can’t get out of a hole without one,” the hobbit shot back, “I’m a hobbit of at least eleventy, daresay I’ve lost count these days.”

“Ha!” Nagol shot back, “You said you wouldn’t tell me whether you were a hobbit or not till after I’d gotten you out of that hole, and now you have!”

“And you shall get me out of this bothersome hole right now,” the hobbit replied in what was at least an irritated if not an outright vengeful tone of voice.

Nagol began to throw more debris into the hole at least partly hoping that he would bury the hobbit alive as was threatened.

After about ten minutes of this, the hobbit announced that the hole was sufficiently full and he could climb out now. He reached one hand over the edge of the hole and Nagol pulled him up and out of the hole. He was, Nagol noted, quite light for a hobbit. As a matter of fact, everything about this hobbit seemed truly extraordinary, including the fact that he was a hobbit. Nagol had never actually seen a hobbit before, although he had read about them at one point in his lifetime and actually seeing one was truly amazing. Here, before Nagol’s very eyes, was a creature that he had relegated to the world of myth and fantasy, right here only half an hour away from his very home and not too far from Canada. Nagol wondered for a moment if he was actually in Canada yet. Most likely, he realized, he wasn’t since he hadn’t seen any Mounties and didn’t think Canada would have been so swampy. No, Canada would be all frozen tundra, not swamp. But back to the matter at hand, the hobbit. As I said before, the hobbit stood perhaps slightly higher then Nagol, and appeared to be slightly round. What Nagol realized, however, was that the hobbit wasn’t nearly as round as he appeared, but rather was wearing a suit that might have accommodated twice the hobbit he was. Nagol sort of wondered why the hobbit was so thin, and also why he had been in that hole in the first place. Seeing no reason not to, he asked just as much.

“Why were you in that hole?” Nagol ventured, “And you still haven’t told me your name.”

“I said I might tell you my name after you let me out of the hole, and not otherwise,” the hobbit replied, obviously wondering what a boy of perhaps ten was doing in a swamp rescuing hobbits.

“And the hole?” Nagol said undeterred.

“I happen to be running from a very dangerous Griffin and Centaur,” the hobbit replied. (Ed Note: Fred Moore, the author of the Griffin and the Centaur denies having set them onto our poor hobbit friend.)

“Of all the places to run, you obviously could have chosen a better place then the bottom of that hole,” Nagol noticed, “Any particular reason for picking one that was slowly filling with water that you couldn’t get your of?”

“It’s a very long story and I doubt very much you shall ever hear the end of it,” the hobbit replied.

“Can you tell me your name yet,” Nagol asked pleasantly, “Mine’s Nagol, and I’m from Sector 23.”

“That’s what they call this place?” Bartook asked.

“No, I don’t think we’re in Sector 23 anymore, I’ve been walking for a good half-hour now, and I must be a good part of the ways to Canada,” Nagol replied, “But I think the map I brought is wrong, because it didn’t say there was this much swamp, and is says that there’s a highway and a lake somewhere between Sector 23 and Canada. I haven’t seen either yet…”

“Hmmm,” Bartook sighed.

“What was your name again?” Nagol requested,

“Bartook,” The hobbit replied.

“Ha!” Nagol exclaimed, “You fell for the oldest one in the book, remember, you didn’t even tell me your name!”

“I knew that,” Bartook replied defensively, “What book, by the way?”

“I don’t really know,” Nagol replied, “I’ve read so many.”

“I haven’t read a good book in years,” Bartook noted, “Not nearly enough time to…”

“Oh,” Nagol wondered, “Where did you say you were from?”

“I didn’t say where I was from,” Bartook replied smugly, “But if you had asked I would have told you I was from Frodovilla. It’s named after…”
“Let me guess, Frodo,” Nagol interjected, “From the war of the ring?”

“No, actually it’s named after a different Frodo,” Bartook replied, “The one that founded Frodovilla. But I think that Frodo was named after Frodo from the war of the ring…”

After perhaps another hour of chatting, Nagol and Bartook had agreed to travel together and keep one another company. As they went along, Nagol continued to use his stick to vault from one high spot to another trying to stay as dry as possible. Bartook, however, simply took the path of least resistance. Oddly, he never seemed to get muddy even though Nagol was covered from head to toe in mud.

Since Bartook was using what was doubtless the better form of transportation, he was far ahead of Nagol. Occasionally, Bartook would take a break from walking allowing Nagol to catch up. Thus, Nagol wasn’t really worried when Bartook disappeared out of his line of sight. Actually, Nagol was feeling pretty uppity; he had just reached what appeared to be a substantial stretch of dry land, which meant to him that he must be nearing Canada. Bartook however was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, Nagol was confronted with what appeared to be a vast radioactive crater.

The crater was tremendous and in Nagol’s mind could have easily accommodated an entire city block, perhaps an entire city. Pulling out his map, Nagol checked it to see if it had any reference to the mysterious crater. Suddenly Nagol realized how far off he had been in his judgment of distance; according to the map, that crater was probably the one Yzarc had recommended he visit for an adventure, right on the edge of Sector 23. Pulling out his handy Geiger counter, Nagol confirmed that the crater was, indeed, highly radioactive. That meant one of two things, either there was another highly radioactive crater between his home and Canada, or Nagol had been walking for almost an hour and only reached the very edge of Sector 23, nowhere near Canada. Since the map didn’t show any other radioactive craters, Nagol was forced to settle with the second possibility that this was, in fact, the same crater Yzarc had recommended he visit. ‘Who knows,’ Nagol thought to himself optimistically, ‘Maybe Canada’s been working on a nuclear weapons program of its own…’

Looking for Bartook and praying he hadn’t been so foolish as to step foot within the crater, Nagol was terrified to see Bartook sitting at the base of the crater wall.

“Bartook!” Nagol exclaimed trying to get Bartook’s attention, “come back! My brother recommended this crater to suicidal maniacs!”

Bartook either didn’t hear Nagol or didn’t care. Nagol kept shouting for another five minutes, but Bartook still didn’t’ respond. Finally, despite his better sense, Nagol descended into the crater to try and get Bartook.

Nagol climbed down the crater wall, sometimes just barely moving, sometimes flying at a fantastic rate unable to stop himself. When Nagol reached the bottom, he was happy to still be in one place, although he had lost some of his stuff. The crater seemed much bigger from the inside then the outside to Nagol, and Bartook was nowhere to be seen. Struggling to his feet, Nagol called out Bartook’s name. Still calling for Bartook, Nagol admired the scenery. The ground he was standing on was completely barren and was pitted with tremendous potholes; Nagol felt he could have been standing on the face of the moon. Not only was the ground strange, but the air hung heavily with a thick fog that prevented Nagol from seeing more then ten or twenty feet. Looking around, Nagol feared he might never see Bartook again. Not only that, but he soon discovered he couldn’t climb back out of the crater. So, he was both friendless and hopelessly trapped in a frightful crater that he had been told to visit if he wanted to be eaten, but at least not by lions. Surveying the situation, Nagol decided there was only one thing that could be done, kneel down and cry. The truth be told, Nagol may have done just that if not for one thing; just as he was about to, Bartook appeared out of the mist.

“Nagol!” Bartook exclaimed, “I don’t think we should be here, do you think we should get out and go around this?”

“I’m all for it,” Nagol replied, “Why’d you come down here in the first place?”

“I didn’t want to,” Bartook protested, “It’s just and took one step and, whoosh! I fell the rest of the way down. I think I may have passed out for a few minutes, and when I came to I went to look for you.”

“So that’s why you didn’t come when I called,” Nagol noted.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Bartook replied, “Anyways, let’s get out of here!”

“You can’t, at least not here,” Nagol confessed, “I tried; the edge is too steep to climb. I think we’re going to have to find somewhere where it’s not so hard to climb up.”

Together, Nagol and Bartook followed the perimeter of the crater trying to find a place where they could climb up the side. Moving about in the atmosphere of the crater was a very unnerving experience. Besides the perpetual fog, the air had the distinct odor of fried cat. Furthermore, Nagol had the perpetual feeling that he was being watched, but when he spun around to look, whatever had been watching him had vanished. At best he would catch a glimpse of a vanishing foot disappearing into the mist as the edge of Nagol’s field of vision. Bartook reported having the same feeling. Nagol suggested that they walk back to back so that together their field of vision would span a full 360 degrees, but this arrangement fell apart almost as soon as it was proposed. For obvious reasons, Bartook insisted on being the one who got to walk forward, and Nagol soon found he couldn’t walk backwards without tripping on every stone, hole or, in this case, thistle.

“We passed that thistle before,” Bartook announced uneasily.

“Huh?”

“We passed that thistle before,” Bartook repeated, “which means that we’ve gone full circle.”

“It’s about time, we’ve been walking for hours,” Nagol lamented, “How far do you think we’ve gone?”

“I’d say three miles since we saw that thistle last,” Bartook replied.

“Three miles!” Nagol exclaimed, “If we walked three miles around, that makes this crater a mile across, and that’s impossible; the map said this crater was only 40 or 50 feet across. Either way, we have to find a way out of this crater, which we haven’t done yet. Are you sure that this crater is three miles around?”

“I’m telling you, three miles,” Bartook replied, “And that’s defiantly the same thistle, only plant in this whole crater I’ll bet.”

“That figures,” Nagol lamented, “we’ve circumnavigated this crater only to find it’s too big and that the only living thing in it is a thistle!”

“I wouldn’t say that’s the only living thing,” Bartook replied, his voice trembling.

“Why,” Nagol demanded growing irritable.

“Because I think that thirty story tall monster qualifies as alive,” Bartook replied emotionlessly.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. This map must be wrong about the crater’s size. Oh, and it doesn’t mention any thirty story tall monsters either,” Nagol said looking at the map and then looked up, “Wait a minute,” he exclaimed, “that’s a thirty story tall monster! Godzilla! Run for your lives!”

“I only have one life,” Bartook responded still obviously not fully conscious of the situation, “That’s life, not lives plural…”

“I don’t care!” Nagol interjected, “Run for your life, because if you don’t have more then one, you’d better save the one you’ve got!”

Bartook finally seemed to realize what was going on and took off at a sprint. Nagol, who hadn’t waited for him, was already running full speed. Together they ran for their lives from a monster so large that Nagol wondered why it was even bothering to chase them. It seemed to Nagol that he and Bartook together would provide only the least bit of a tidbit to appease the monster’s hunger. Looking back, Nagol realized there was no way either he or Bartook behind him would outrun the massive monster. Each of its steps was equal to a hundred of Nagol’s.

“Hey,” Bartook hollered, short on breath, catching up to Nagol, “Don’t run, it’s no use. Stand together; all for one, and one for all!”

“Two men against a thirty story tall monster?” Nagol demanded stopping momentarily.

It was then that the monster caught up with Nagol and Bartook. It lowered its massive, house-sized head toward the ground and showed every intention of eating Nagol and Bartook. Bartook stood, frozen in place, as did Nagol. Then, at the last possible moment, Nagol grabbed Bartook and threw both of them to the ground. They hit the ground with a thud and went right through, falling into a now partially collapsed underground hollow. Falling perhaps ten feet, they both were knocked unconscious when they hit bottom.

Some time later, Nagol came to. Beside him lay the still unconscious Bartook as well as a good part of the stuff he had initially brought with him. ‘Oh boo!” Nagol thought to himself upon discovering he had either forgotten to pack his flashlight, or had lost it somewhere. Of course, it wouldn’t have helped if Nagol had had his flashlight since the batteries were always dead and he would never have thought enough to bring along spare batteries. So, Nagol was wandering around in the dark without even a flashlight to his name. Nagol noticed that there either was a full moon, or clouds, or the thick mist of the crater itself blocked out the moonlight, because there was absolutely no light coming from where he guessed the hole they had made should have been. It was at this point that Nagol found the box of matches he had brought along. He lit one and was able to see well enough to realize that he and Bartook had fallen not just into an underground cavity, but rather into part of a tunnel. He was also able to see that he and Bartook had almost no chance of climbing back out of the tunnel into the crater above. It was a little while after his match burned down to the end and burned his fingers forcing Nagol to drop it that Bartook came to.

“Where am I?” Bartook moaned softly to himself.

“Hello,” Nagol said rushing over to Bartook and tripping over him, “We’re in an underground tunnel somewhere under a crater on the edge of Sector 23.”

“Which one are you,” Bartook demanded unable to see in the complete darkness, “the Centaur or the Griffin?”

“Neither,” Nagol explained realizing Bartook had every right to be confused, “I’m Nagol from Sector 23, remember.”

“I don’t want to,” Bartook moaned back, “because if I do, then I narrowly escaped being drowned in a swamp and then eaten by a monster the size of Texas.”

“It wasn’t that big,” Nagol replied cheerily, “No bigger then Rhode Island, I’d say.”

“Who cares?” Bartook wondered aloud, “How do we get out of here, and somewhere else?”

“Well,” Nagol answered slowly, “We can either try to climb out of the hole we fell in and be back in the crater, or we can follow the tunnel we’re in until it leads us somewhere.”

“I move that we get as far away from that crater as possible,” Bartook suggested, “But first, you wouldn’t happen to have any food, would you?”

Obligingly, Nagol dug through his bag until he came up with some food that he had packed away that morning. Together, he and Bartook ate a meal of dry cereal and some white bread with peanut butter. When both were reasonably full some time later, Nagol and Bartook started walking down the tunnel they were in.

At first they didn’t know which way they should go, but soon decided to pick a direction and stick with it. Together they walked, hand in hand, lest they should lose one another in the dark, occasionally tripping on unseen rocks or in unseen potholes. Trying to find your way around in the dark is a difficult task, I’ll admit, when you are in someplace you know like your house, but it is ten times more difficult when you are wandering down a strange tunnel unsure if the next step you take will be your last. Once you realize this, you will easily understand why Nagol and Bartook were immensely relieved when they noticed a dim glow somewhere ahead in the tunnel.

Actually, Bartook noticed a light up ahead, Nagol did not as he was walking with his eyes closed. Why Nagol was walking with his eyes may forever remain a mystery, although there is no reason not to postulate that he realized he could see better with his eyes closed then with them open. When Bartook pointed the light out to Nagol, he looked around wondering why he couldn’t see it; after perhaps a minute he realized that his eyes were closed. Opening his eyes, Nagol noticed he could now see better with them open, the tunnel was definitely growing lighter. Now confidant of his ability to see in even the dimmest of light, Nagol started to run towards the light. Of course, he immediately tripped on a rock that he hadn’t seen. Catching up with Nagol at his own rate, Bartook considered leaving him there lying on the ground, but then remembered that he had the food. Grudgingly, Bartook helped Nagol to his feet.

Together, they followed the tunnel until it took a sharp corner. Around the corner, they were blasted with light and saw for an instant the source of that light, a fearsome glowing monster that resembled an overgrown glow worm. Both Nagol and Bartook were blinded by the bright light that the monster gave off and Nagol discovered once again that he could see better with his eyes closed.

When he opened his eyes once again, Nagol was mildly terrified by what he saw. What stood before him might have been an grub-like insect except that it was three feet in diameter and about seven feet long. Furiously it slashed at the air as if it especially wanted to make the point to Nagol and Bartook that it wasn’t the sort of monster that one would trifle with. Needless to say, it made its point very well. Bartook who had been ahead of Nagol had retreated some, and Nagol wasn’t sure what to do. Glancing at Bartook, Nagol realized that he was now wielding a knife. Nagol wished for a moment that he had thought to bring a sword or something himself. Then he remembered what he did have in his backpack.

Ripping open his bag, Nagol tore through it frantically until he came upon a package that he remembered seeing before. Sure enough, Nagol had, for reasons unknown even to himself, stowed away a package of lion food in his backpack. Ripping the package open, Nagol removed one of the juicy t-bone steaks that was inside. Well, it wasn’t that juicy… and it was starting to smell. ‘Oh well,’ Nagol thought tossing the steak at the monster, ‘if this doesn’t pacify him, it might just poison him.’

Amazingly, the monster took one look at the steak and stopped trying to scare Nagol and Bartook. It probed the steak gently with its oversized jaws and then downed it with one colossal gulp. Turning back to Nagol and Bartook, the creature addressed them in perfect English.

“Thank you pleasantly,” the creature said to Nagol, “I’m sorry if I scared you with that whole ‘I’m a giant bug’ bit, but he was carrying a sword.”

The creature indicated towards Bartook. Bartook put his knife back in its scabbard.

“You’re very welcome,” Nagol replied, “So what are you exactly? I’ve never read about anything like you in a book before.”

“Well that figures,” The creature answered, “We giant glowworms don’t get much press these days. A couple of centuries back my family was very distinguished, but I don’t suppose you would have known any of them…”

“Are there a lot of giant glowworms?” Nagol inquired thoughtfully.

“No, not many at all,” the creature replied, “We’ve always been pretty scarce. But we did our part, the alliance would have lost the Great War if not for us, some have said…”

“World War One?” Nagol inquired.

“You call that a world war,” the creature replied, “Why it only involved Europe, and half of it at that. I don’t know if it even counts as much of a war since only the humans were fighting. The great war was a thousand times bigger, one the one side the K.G.U.C. on the other the whole goblin army, and it was big those days…”

“What’s the K.G.U.C?” Nagol interrupted once again.

“The Kingdom or Giant Underground creatures,” the glowworm replied as if it were quite obvious, “You know, that’s a story for another time, though. So, what were your names again?”

“We didn’t tell you our names,” Bartook observed.

“I want to hear the story,” Nagol insisted, “I’ve never heard of the Kingdom of Giant Underground Creatures, is that a whole kingdom of giant bugs like you?”

“Stories later,” the glowworm insisted, “I must know your names. Mine’s Nate, servant of Moly in the third order.”

“Who’s Moly?” Nagol demanded.

“Who are you?” the glowworm shot back lightning fast.

“I’m Nagol, from Sector 23,” Nagol announced, “and this is Bartook, of Frodovilla.”

“Why did you tell him my name!” Bartook exclaimed, “Do you trust him? I don’t trust him, not one bit. Look at him, he’s a giant bug…”

“Nate, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Nagol said interrupted Bartook’s rantings and ravings.

Five minutes later, Nate had agreed to travel along with Bartook and Nagol so that they could see where they were going. Nagol had discovered the source of the light that he and Bartook had seen and were now seeing was, in fact, Nate himself. Being a glowworm, his tail lit up and was actually a giant light bulb. Nagol wondered what would happen if Nate’s light bulb were to burn out, but decided it would be impolite to ask. Together, Nate the glowworm, Bartook the hobbit, and Nagol the person went along and would have made a most peculiar company of travelers to watch.

Going along down the tunnel, neither Bartook nor Nagol had any idea as to where they we going. Nate might have had some idea as to where he was, but didn’t seem to. Nagol asked him once or twice where they were, but Nate said nothing indicating only that it was at least slightly hard to explain. Nagol had no idea as to why it would be hard to explain where they were, but decided not to pry further. One thing Nagol did find out, however, in talking to Nate, was how all the tunnels were made. The tunnels, they had passed a number of diverging branches splitting off from the main tunnel they were in, had mostly been built around two-thousand and two-hundred years ago. That had been during the reign of Moly the Great. Apparently, after winning the Great War, which Nate would say nothing about, Moly had decided to build a series of tunnels going around the world. Nate was just getting in to what a massive and magnificent project this global network of tunnels had been when suddenly he drew to a halt. The light on his tail dimmed to the point where Nagol could see a second light source.

Before the company of travelers, the tunnel opened up into some sort of cavity and the light was coming from inside of it. Glancing inside, Nagol couldn’t identify the source of the light. Cautiously he took a step into the ominous chamber in front of him.

“You can’t go in there,” Nate advised Nagol

“What is it?” Nagol asked in a whisper.

“I’m not sure,” Nate replied, “It should have been Lord Moly’s chamber, but it doesn’t look right at all. I don’t think it’s the least bit safe.”

“Lord Moly,” Nagol said in a whisper and then aloud, “He’s the one who you said made these tunnels, right?”

“No, different Lord Moly, this one’s his incompetent great something grandson,” Nate responded.

“So he would be the new leader of the K.G.U.C?” Nagol asked putting two and two together.

“Yeah,” Nate answered, but Nagol had already rushed ahead.

“That’s not Lord Moly’s chamber, is it,” Bartook observed plainly.

“I told him it wasn’t,” Nate replied, “To be wholly straightforward, I’m not sure exactly what or where it is.”

“Should we go in after him?” Bartook asked still sounding perfectly uninterested.

“I should suppose he’ll make enough trouble for the three of us,” Nate replied, “Besides, I doubt it can be all that dangerous. Who knows, most likely he’ll end up in someplace like the Underground Goblin Mounts and be scared out of his wits, but with no harm done.”

“You’ll have to tell me about those sometime,” Bartook observed candidly.

“Perhaps after he figures out where we are for us,” Nate replied, “These tunnels are ever so tricky to get around in.”

“These go everywhere in the world?” Bartook asked Nate.

“Yeah, that and a couple of other places,” Nate replied mysteriously.

Meanwhile, Nagol was wandering adventurously through the cavern before him. Stealthfully he darted from one rock column to another making enough noise to awaken the soundest of sleepers. Looking around, he still couldn’t find the source of the light which had grown a little brighter since he had entered the chamber. The light had an odd flickering quality to it that reminded Nagol of torches burning in a medieval castle, or in this case a dungeon. The floor of the cavern was sprawled with what appeared to be the remains of once living people. Some of the suits of armor, however, were not fit for a human, but were clearly dwarf size. Examining one of the breastplates, Nagol observed that it was fit for someone about his height, but at least twice as round in the middle. Sifting through the various armor and weapons scattered across the floor, Nagol grabbed for himself a shield that he thought might do him some good were he to be engaged in mortal combat. Along with the shield, Nagol grabbed an ax which, if he hadn’t know better, he might have imagined to be made of some fantastically resilient metal like mythryl. Shield and ax in hand, Nagol dashed behind another stone pillar and then out into the center of the chamber he was in.

There, Nagol was confronted with a terrifying foe. Before him stood what could only be described as a fire-breathing dragon. The dragon slightly resembled a tyrannosaurus rex, but was much more graceful then Nagol imagined such a brute could be. Furthermore, Nagol was quite sure that the fossil record had never reveal tyrannosaurus rex to have breathed fire. The dragon standing before Nagol most defiantly breathed fire. The dragon breathed such an aura of fear that it took all of Nagol’s willpower just to stay planted where he was. Either that was the case or he was too afraid to even move.

The dragon eyed the strange creature before him for a moment. ‘It might be a dwarf,’ the dragon thought to itself, ‘then again, no. the creature wasn’t round enough to be a dwarf; it didn’t have a beard either.’ The dragon paused to go through its list of potential enemies: Elf, no; dwarf, it had already ruled that out; man, too small; hobbit, maybe but not really likely. The dragon had never seen a hobbit before, but it judged this creature to be far too foolish to be one. That was odd, it seemed to the dragon as if it was being attacked by nothing more then a little boy of perhaps ten. ‘Oh well,’ the dragon thought once again, ‘I shall have to just kill it and deal with figuring out what it was later.’

The dragon had noticed that the attacker was armed with a shield, but it had some knowledge of how effective a defense these were. The dragon had a number of options, it could trick the attacker into dropping the shield, it could knock the shield away with one swipe of its powerful claws, or it could just melt the shield with its fiery breath. The dragon chose the last approach for its sheer simplicity. The other two required far too much work on its behalf. The dragon might have used one of the other approaches on a different day, but not today. The dragon wasn’t feeling particularly energetic this morning. Carefully, the dragon took a deep breath and then let out a single tendril of red hot fire to reduce the shield to molten metal. Instantly the once valuable shield was reduced to a bit of molten metal on the floor of the dragons lair. But where was the dragon’s prey?

Quick as lightning, the dragon spun about looking for its adversary. Perhaps it should have used one of the other methods to dispose of the shield, the dragon thought to himself, it was terribly disappointing to have ones morning meal run off like that. Suddenly, the dragon noticed a stinging twinge in his tail. The dragon paused for a moment, it wasn’t used to feeling pain. Then, in a flash, the dragon spun around and discovered the source of the hurt. There, embedded in its tail, was an ax made of some fantastically resilient material. ‘Perhaps mythryl,’ the dragon though examining the ax. Then, the dragon set out to find the creature who had planted the ax in his tail. ‘Some boy of perhaps ten,’ the dragon chided himself as he rushed in the direction where he had heard the creature coming from originally. The creature would not be hard to follow, it had made a tremendous amount of noise upon entering the dragons lair and the dragon knew exactly where it had come from. That was, of course, provided that the creature’s making a great deal of noise had only been a ploy on its part to deceive the dragon.

“Run!” Nagol exclaimed reaching the tunnel entrance where Bartook and Nate were still chatting.

“What is it,” Bartook asked sarcastically, “an entire army of goblins?”

“A dragon,” Nagol said grabbing Bartook by the arm.

“A dragon?” Bartook demanded astounded while being dragged along by Nagol.

“I think I know where we are,” Nate announced running alongside Bartook and Nagol, “If that’s the dragon I think it is, then we’re in Big Mt. in Oklahoma…”

At any other time, Nagol would have paused to reflect on the fact that Oklahoma was hundreds of miles from Sector 23 and there was no way he and Bartook could have walked that distance. Also, at any other moment Nagol would have reflected on the comical figure Nate posed while running. His giant grub-like body bounced along in a wave-like motion propelling him with some speed. Needless to say, this wasn’t any other moment; behind Nagol, Bartook and Nate was a dragon that had just smashed his way through a stone wall to pry his way into the tunnel they were in. At this moment, Nagol was running for his life from that very same dragon which was gaining rapidly on he and the others.

After they had been running for almost a minute, it seemed longer to Nagol who didn’t like to run, Nate pointed out a small tunnel that diverged from the main one and they dived into it. The tunnel was so small that Nagol had to crawl on his hands and knees to get through. Bartook, too was crawling on his hands and knees, but Nate was apparently quite comfortable in the small space. Nagol was slightly claustrophobic, but didn’t mention it.

“This tunnel take us anywhere?” Bartook asked Nate.

“Shhh,” Nate hissed back, “No, it doesn’t really go anywhere, but the dragon might lose out tail.”

The dragon, however, didn’t lose the trail of the three creatures who had invaded its domain. ‘So there are three of them,’ the dragon thought to itself, ‘That might explain a few things, and… Ah! one is a hobbit after all.’ The dragon only had one real problem, the little creatures had gone into a hole that was too big for it to follow through. ‘No need to worry,’ the dragon reminded itself, ‘I’ll just smoke them out.’ The dragon peered down into the hole and let loose a blast of scorching flame.

“He’s found us,” Nagol had announced upon seeing the dragon. Bartook had been at least a little surprised, but Nate was not. Apparently he had at least a little experience with dragons.

“He’ll try to smoke us out by breathing fire into this hole,” Nate announced confidently, “Luckily I found us a hole with an exit. He’ll stay there for a while, and that should buy us a little time.”

A second later a blast of flame bellowed into the end of the tunnel. In seconds it was scorching hot in the tunnel, Nagol, Bartook and Nate, however, were already scooting out of the other end. The three of them paused for a moment to catch their collective breaths.

Thinking they had escaped the dragon, the three of them walked along the tunnel they were in no longer panicked or running. Thoughtfully, Nagol rummaged through his bag and pulled out another steak for Nate as well as a granola bar for Bartook. Bartook eyed the bar skeptically and announced that it wasn’t proper rations to feed a gnome, much less a hobbit. Tossing Bartook his bag so he could find something himself, Nagol grabbed the granola bar and ate it. Nate, meanwhile, was trying to explain to Nagol and Bartook how to get back to Sector 23. Nagol had decided that he had gotten enough of adventuring and was ready to go home. He wasn’t sure why Bartook wanted to go back to Sector 23, but he seemed eager to. Nagol poked fun at Bartook saying he was going just to find a hole which was slowly filling with water to sit in. Bartook didn’t answer back to that one.

Here was where Nate intended to part ways with Bartook and Nagol. He had already given them directions for getting back to home about three times and Bartook felt confidant that he could remember them. Nagol too felt confidant that Bartook could remember the directions, even though he could not. With a farewell and a promise to ‘be with you whenever there are times of darkness once more,’ Nate disappeared down one tunnel while Bartook and Nagol took another. They walked together in silence, Bartook trying to remember if he was supposed to take three lefts then a right, or three rights then a left. Ultimately, what Bartook decided could have decided the fate of the universe, but it did not.

You see, as unlikely as it might seem, the dragon had realized that his victims were no longer in their hidey hole and had immediately tried to figure out where they had went. It hadn’t been easy, and he had been forced to draw on some pretty rarely used brain cells, but the dragon was able to figure out how to get to where the three little creatures had gotten out. Of course, by the time he had gotten there they had wandered away, but the dragon was an expert tracker. He knew, for example, exactly where they had paused so Nagol could get out food for everyone, and also which path the hobbit and the other one had taken when they had split up with the bug-like one. It was this path that the dragon was taking now.

A few minutes later, Bartook and Nagol were still trying to find their ways back to Sector 23. Nagol was trying not to interrupt Bartook who was working very hard to remember whether he was supposed to take either a right or a left turn. Bartook stood still for a moment, and then announced calmly that he was pretty sure that it was a right turn, not a left one. Without another moment’s thought, Nagol and Bartook rushed down that passageway. Behind them, of course, was the dragon.

Franticly, they raced through the maze of tunnels, Bartook franticly shouting either ‘right’ or ‘left’ when they came to a divide in the two tunnels. This was as much to reassure himself that he wasn’t lost as it was to direct Nagol who was running besides him. One time, however, he shouted out ‘right’ and then took the left tunnel with the ensuing result that Nagol tried to go one way and Bartook the other. Nagol tripped over Bartook and both fell to the ground in a shapeless heap. Behind them, the dragon stuck his head around the corner and eyed them menacingly. Neither Bartook nor Nagol could remember having run that fast in their lives before.

They sprinted forward in the dark, their only thought to avoid being eaten by the dragon. They were running in the dark, of course, because Nagol had dropped the torch he had made before splitting up with Nate. Fortunate as it might seem, Nagol and Bartook discovered they were running towards a source of light. What was apparent was that this wasn’t torchlight or dragon light, this was genuine daylight. Nagol and Bartook struggled forward against fatigue, sure that if they could only reach that tiny point of light they would be saved from the terrible dragon, saved from the endless miles of passageways they had been running through, safe at last back at Nagol’s home.

Reaching the end of the tunnel they were in, the two wearied runners spilled out into the open air and collapsed onto the wet, green grass laughing.

“We’ve made it!” Bartook announced, “We’re safe again. What’s better, we’re not in that dreadful crater either!”

“We’re not in Sector 23…” Nagol announced his voice shaking.

“What do you mean?” Bartook retorted, “Look at this, the grass, the fresh, clean air, everything. How can you say we’re not back in Sector 23 again?”

“Because that’s the emerald city,” Nagol explained, his voice retaining the ominous tone it had assumed.

“The what!?”

“The Emerald City,” Nagol replied, “That’s the Emerald City of Oz…”

Both Nagol and Bartook looked back at the hole they had spilled out of at the same time. Somewhere, back there, was Sector 23. Also back there was the dragon.

“We could stay here,” Bartook suggested, “have a jolly good adventure indeed. What’s more, we could just have one of the good witches to wish us home.”

“No!” Nagol replied emotionlessly, “We have to go back.”

“But Nagol!”

“We have to go back!”

“Nagol! we can’t go back in there!”

“We can’t stay here,” Nagol replied and without another word marched back towards the hole that he and Bartook had just escaped from.

There, waiting for him, was the dragon. Somehow, the dragon had known that Nagol would come back. You could say he was counting on it. You see, while a fairy kingdom is no place for a boy, it is even less of a place for a dragon. Quick as a snap the dragon would have been weak as an ordinary lizard if he had stepped out of that tunnel. But he didn’t have to, because Nagol would have to go back.

Nagol climbed into the hole. He walked forward, one step, two steps. Behind him, Nagol could hear the sound of Bartook following him. Ahead of him, he somehow knew the dragon lay in wait. It was almost as if there was nothing he could do but walk right up to the dragon and say hello, and that’s what he did.

“Hello,” the dragon responded.

“Go away,” Nagol said to the dragon in no uncertain terms.

“Me?” the dragon replied flabbergasted, “You want me to go away?”

“Yes, go away,” Nagol said calmly.

Amazingly, the dragon retreated. Apparently it thought to itself that it was in its best interests to listen to this mysterious creature, the one that had put an ax in his tail. Solemnly, the dragon retreated to his lair in Big Mountain.

Bartook and Nagol backtracked to the spot where they had parted ways with Nate. There, they were only a little surprised to find a note written, apparently by Nate, explaining how to get to Sector 23. Apparently, Nate had realized that Bartook and Nagol would become hopelessly lost and thought after hand to actually write out his directions. How exactly Nate, a creature without hands, was supposed to have written the note was beyond both Nagol and Bartook. Only slightly interested in other possible origins for the note, Bartook took it at its word and followed its directions exactly. Nagol followed Bartook.

The dragon, meanwhile, was rethinking its retreat. Once back in its lair it had more time to reflect, and realized that there had been no real reason for it to run. The boy, after all, had given every indication of really being a boy of ten. Dragon’s do not run away from boys of ten, nor do they often let them escape unharmed. All in all, the dragon had no idea as to why it had let the boy go. Remembering that the boy had mentioned a place called ‘Sector 23’ and knowing where that was, the dragon resolved to go and find the boy and eat him that moment. Not only did he resolve to do so, but he actually got started on the task.

A few minutes later, Bartook and Nagol were still trying to find their ways back to Sector 23. The note was a great deal of help, and Bartook was convinced that it could lead them back where they wanted to go. He walked generally straight announcing that they should go either ‘left’ or ‘right.’ Apparently this was as much for his aid as for Nagol’s. Then, one time he announced that they should go left and went right. This time Nagol was ready and pointed Bartook in the right direction as they began to sprint once again. You see, the dragon was right behind him. This time Nagol didn’t drop the torch, and as a result he and Bartook were able to run without tripping on every single stone. Not only that, but the smoke played a cruel trick with the dragon’s nose so he couldn’t tell which way they had gone. To further infuriate the dragon, when Nagol and Bartook reached the last passage and could see the light of the outside, Nagol threw the torch down the opposite passageway.

Hand in hand, Bartook and Nagol ran the last few yards to the outside air. When they finally reached the source of the light, Nagol and Bartook crawled out into what was not a grassy meadow, but rather a barren crater that resembled the face of the moon. Nagol couldn’t remember being so happy in his short life. Bartook could remember a few times when he had been this happy, but not many. Of course the critical thing was that the dragon didn’t immediately appear out of the hole behind them.

For all practical purposes, it looked like the dragon had disappeared completely. Wandering around the crater for about ten minutes, Nagol and Bartook came to the isolated thistle that was growing along one edge of the crater. Nagol couldn’t ever remember being so happy to see a thistle, neither could Bartook.

Eagerly, Nagol and Bartook climbed up the edge of the crater trying to get out.

“If it had only been this easy before,” Bartook noted contentedly.

Nagol was forced to admit that the crater didn’t seem as menacing as it had before, but took it in the light that he and Bartook had just escaped from an even more treacherous place. Compared to that, anything seemed easy.

The end of ‘Of Lions, Of dragons, Of Oz,’

A Nagol Story book,

Part one of Some.