The gemstone was salty and especially tiny in comparison.

 

'I believe they call that little darling gem a ruby, my dear friend.'

 

Tarlog examined the tastefully chiseled stone in his ginormous fingers. His giant body was crouched down like a curious child playing with leaves in a pond. Vincent, ant-like in comparison to Tarlog’s immense size, curiously peered over next to him.

 

'My gosh, it seems like quite a rare one. It's cut already!'

 

Tarlog instinctively pulled away as Vincent got closer. Noticing, Vincent pulled back — only slightly.

 

​'Well, I've no interest in that,’ he said smoothly. ‘Seems to scream much more 'Tarlog!' to me anyway. Would look great as a feature of your hat.'

 

​Tarlog curiously went back to looking deep within the gem, enamoured by its salty taste.

 

​'Ahh, so I see...' Tarlog scratched his terrifically -ized chin. 'Do not worry Vincent, I have studied many times in the magikul art of gemstones. I know precisely w'ot this is for.'

 

​Vincent gave him a quizzical look. 

 

​'Yes,’ Tarlog went on, ‘this is what is known as, 'Hymn-Alay, and Rock Salt'. I heard it goes really really well with meats.'

 

​'Ah,' Vincent said. 'I see.' For the third year in a row, the young lord of Pomeroy is starting to pick up precisely the ratio of confidence to research the esteemed wizard speaks to when he talks. 'There is unconventional wisdom in you yet, my companion. I hope to take it back home with me, as ever.'

 

​Home... Tarlog ponders the ruby in his hand.

 

---

 

​'So, how are you feeling about the Dawning Festival? You know, I heard they have a very special guest in mind to celebrate.' Vincent nudged Tarlog with his elbow, entirely unsure if the hulking orc could even feel it. 'They're hoping to thank this special guest for his tireless efforts in fending off the threats that have come year after year. The hero of the show and all! The one who slayed the Purples, the Banquet. I take it you're quite excited, no?'

 

​Tarlog pulled his hulking magical wand from his back and launched it against some treefall that blocked their path. His magic was as effective as ever and the obstacle shattered to splinters.

 

​'Well, ‘e sounds like a mighty fine hero,’ said Tarlog. ‘To think that people like that exist. How con-sid-erate.'

 

​Vincent played along with a little smile. How very like Tarlog to be so humble!

 

​'But uhn-fortunately my young friend. It seems that I won't be able to attend this Door-ning Festivul. I have a new quest.'

 

Which stopped Vincent dead in his tracks, so hard that his bright red cap fell across his face. ‘You can’t be — is this true, Tarlog?’ He frantically swatted the fluffy pom-pom of his cap out of his eyes to get a better look at his companion. ‘What quest could be more important than a celebration? Winterland is finally at peace, and it's thanks to you!'

 

​'Yesh, well.’ Tarlog picked at a loose thread in his wizardly robes. ‘You see Vincent, I have been working all year to decipher a very, very, very diffikult puzzle. Magikal runes inscipted on a strange piece of parchment that was giftud to me last year. Even as the world's greatest Wizard, I had ta' cross all of Winterland to find someone to help translate it.' 

 

‘A magical rune? But surely it can wait one more night.’ When Tarlog didn’t respond, Vincent went for the all-out approach: ​'But what about the kids? Eivor! Marybeth! You know how excited they are to party. This town is a once-a-year celebration of, well, everything! Is there danger afoot in this message?'

 

The two stood in the crystalline cavern, a cold frost coming from both of their breaths. Tarlog looked down towards a divergent path in the cave. It went on and into complete, pitch darkness.

 

​Tarlog shook his head. 'That, I do not know.' He looked at the flickering lights of green, read and yellow wrapped around his wand. One light started to flicker off; one by one, the rest followed.

 

​'Vincent. I have to find a new place. I want to find my home. And there's one person in da' whole universe who will know where dat is.'

 

​Tarlog reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of folded parchment. He went to hand it to Vincent before the cavern was suddenly bathed in an impossibly fluorescent black light

 

and the way was opened.