When Fabian woke up he couldn't help but notice that he was tied to a long stake in the ground with thin ropes that were surprisingly strong. It was dark outside but a bright moon shone overhead. Glancing from side to side he saw that Derek and Sir Mikael were tied up in a similar fashion. All around them were hundreds of tiny little elves chanting and bowing in front of a carving in a tree that resembled a woman. There was also a large bonfire burning nearby. Several of the elves were testing it as if to make sure it were hot enough.

"You're awake," Sir Mikael said. "I thought you were supposed to be keeping watch."

"I was keeping watch. I already woke Scrote up. I sent him off to fetch some firewood and I was about to wake you up when these little bastards snuck up behind me and ambushed me. There was really no way to avoid it."

"Now you've gotten us into a bad situation. What do these guys want anyway?"

"I have no idea," Fabian said. "I don't speak wood elvish. I have no idea what they're saying. I'm pretty sure they're not looking to have us as guests for dinner though. Judging by their behavior I think they mean to sacrifice us or something."

"I can't understand them either," Derek said. "But I do believe we're in luck. Do you see that statue they appear to be worshipping? It appears to be some kind of tree goddess."

"Hmm," Fabian said. "If only we knew some sort of tree goddess who might be inclined to help us."

"Luckily for us, we do," Derek said. "I'm sure if we summon the spirit of our companion Druvidia she will talk to these creatures and clear this whole mess up."

"Aw crap," Fabian said. "Uh, yeah why don't you try summoning Druvidia."

"Druvidia?" Derek called out. There was no response. "Druvidia your friends could really use your help right about now." Still no answer.

"Would you look at that?" Fabian said. "She went and abandoned us right during our hour of greatest need. I told you that woman was up to no good."

"Perhaps if I try," Sir Mikael offered. "Druvidia! This is Sir Mikael speaking. Please come talk to these wood elves and convince them to let us go. They seem to believe in the power of trees, so I'm sure they would listen to you."

"I'm telling you, I think that chick ditched out on us. We're on our own here guys. We're going to have to figure something out. Derek, can you pray to your sheep god for help?"

"I have already told you, I do not worship the great Merve-Rah, I merely study his teachings. I am not equipped to pray to him."

"Right," Fabian said. "But you are some kind of religious dude, right? I mean that's what clerics are. You pray to some sort of deity, correct?"

"I do," Derek said.

"You've never actually told us what god you worship. Maybe now might be a good time."

"I am a devout follower of Morng, the god of yodeling and crochet."

"Yodeling?" Fabian asked as his face wrinkled up in confusion.

"And crochet," Derek said.

"So you can yodel?"

"I am a world class yodeler. I am also excellent at crocheting."

"So maybe you could do some kind of fancy yodel or something and the wood elves would get scared and run off."

"I suppose it's worth a try," Derek said. He inhaled a deep breath and began to yodel loudly. Many of the elves began covering their ears but nobody seemed to be running away in a hurry. Finally one of the elves dipped a spear into the bonfire and then walked over and ran Derek through the belly with it. He stopped yodeling abruptly as a stream of blood shot out of his mouth. Then he began to scream as his robes caught fire. He disappeared into a giant fireball and his scream intensified until it stopped entirely after a couple minutes. All of the elves let out a loud cheer.

"Uh, they just burned Derek to a crisp," Fabian said. "You got any ideas over there as to how we might get ourselves out of this?"

"Not at the moment," Sir Mikael said. "First maybe we should take a moment to honor the memory of our fallen comrade in arms."

"There'll be time for that later if we can get out of here alive," Fabian said. "Doesn't it take a lot of long, boring training to become a paladin? Why don't you call on some of that learning and figure out a way to save our skins before we get burned, too. I don't know about you, but that didn't look pleasant to me."

"I can't understand why Druvidia isn't answering our pleas for help," Sir Mikael said. "Why has she forsaken us?"

"Would you forget about Druvidia?" Fabian said. "She's obviously not going to help us so we need to think of something quick!"

"You seem good at talking," Sir Mikael said. "Perhaps you could talk our way out of this."

"In case you haven't noticed they're speaking gibberish. I don't know how to communicate with these guys. Don't you know any skills to loosen ropes that are tied around you?"

"Well, yes, but I'm afraid these wood elves are quite good at tying ropes. I haven't been able to budge an inch."

"Chaw la bella zim taow," an elf said as it pointed an unlit spear towards Fabian's left eye.

"Get that thing out of my face, you little punk. You're lucky I'm tied up or I'd break that stick in half and shove it up and down either end of you until the pieces met in the middle."

The wood elf smacked Fabian across the face with its spear. All the other elves laughed heartily.

"Oh, you think this is funny, do you?" Fabian said. "You think burning people alive is funny? Well, I've got news for you little twerps. It's not funny. And if you're not careful you're going to cause a forest fire and that's all going to be on you. I'm not taking any of the blame for that."

The elf swung its spear again, this time nailing Fabian right in the crotch. The other elves cheered and howled with laughter.

"All right, well now you've just gone and made me angry," Fabian said. "Once I get out of these ropes, and I promise you I will, it's going to be open season on wood elves. Are you prepared for that? Because I'm going to take great pleasure in hunting you down and breaking your little puny arms."

"Why are you threatening them like that?" Sir Mikael asked. "I thought we had already established they can't understand you."

"Oh, they may not understand the words, but I'm communicating my intent loud and clear," Fabian said as he picked out an elf in the crowd and made eye contact. "That's right, buddy. I'm coming for you."

The elf responded by making an obscene gesture with its hands.

"This is getting us nowhere fast," Sir Mikaeal said. "Perhaps it's time we make peace with our gods and prepare ourselves for the inevitable. It's been a good ride, but everything must come to an end sometime. My only regret is that I failed in my quest to rescue the princess from that evil wizard. I feel personally responsible now for the suffering she must continue to endure."

"You can give up if you want, but the legendary Fabian is not going to get taken out by a bunch of lame forest elves who look like they should be spending their time making cookies. Hey you!" Fabian called out to the elf who was holding the spear.

"Shaz mo ping jabar loweenimah?" the elf asked as it approached Fabian with its spear raised.

When it got within range Fabian spit right in the elf's face. A gasp passed through the crowd as the elf with the spear let out a high pitched growl and wiped its face off.

"Now that was funny," Fabian said.

The elf let out a shrill scream and charged towards Fabian, swinging the flat end of the spear into Fabian's stomach. It smacked Fabian's knees several times with either end of the spear and then whacked his stomach again as hard as it could. With a mad gleam in its eye, the wood elf turned towards the bonfire and plunged the spear into it. It turned around and began approaching Fabian slowly.

Fabian needed a moment to catch his breath after having the wind knocked out of him by the spear. When he saw the wood elf getting nearer with the flaming spear he began wiggling desperately at his ropes, but they wouldn't budge. "Hey, little dude. Sorry for spitting on you, but in my defense emotions were running high. I mean, you did just burn my friend to death. Well, I guess I wouldn't really say he was my friend. Just some guy we picked up on the road who was traveling with us for a little bit. But still. We can talk about this. Or we could if you little buggers would bother to learn how to speak the common tongue."

The wood elf stopped a few feet in front of Fabian and got a menacing grin on its face. It raised the spear up slowly towards Fabian's face and he could feel the intense heat coming off of it.

"Here's the thing, you're probably planning on killing us all anyway. Why not save me for last? You know to savor my suffering and everything. All I'm saying here is why don't you kill the paladin first?"

The wood elf drew its arm back as if to throw the spear at Fabian. He found himself unconsciously flinching.

Suddenly a loud murmur went through the crowd of elves as the ground began to rumble. A moment later a large horse burst into the clearing sending elves scattering in all directions. The wood elf that had been holding the spear dropped it in terror and took off running into the woods.

"Rothchild!" Sir Mikael shouted. "You came for me!"
Brandon swung down from the horse's back. "You two appear to be in some trouble," he said. "Let's get you untied. Where's Derek?"

"Uh, he's that pile of blackened crispy ashes at the base of the third stake."  Fabian nodded his head towards Derek's remains.

"Oh no!" Brandon said with tears starting to leak from his eyes. "What happened?"

"What happened is we got ambushed by a bunch of sneaky wood elves while you were out gallivanting about on Sir Mikael's horse!" Fabian shouted.

"I wasn't gallivanting about," Brandon protested. "I tracked him down to a farmhouse a few miles away from our campsite. He had managed to find himself a female horse and was having his way with her."

"Rothchild, buddy, I didn't know you had it in you," Fabian said. "I'm proud of you, man. At least one of my traveling companions isn't a total loser. Anyway, Scrote, I'm glad you found the horse, but your timing could have been better. You pretty much cost Derek his life. You're going to have to live with the guilt of that for the rest of your life."

"I had to wait until Rothchild was done with his business before he'd let me take him away and then he seemed bound and determined to head off to the south, so I rode him where he wanted to go, which turned out to be here."

"Stop making excuses, Scrote. A man's dead because of you. If I were you I'd be feeling pretty ashamed right about now. Now if you'll excuse me, these wood elves assaulted me in a most humiliating fashion and that insult will not stand. I'm going to defile their carving of their tree goddess." He pulled out his dagger and began drawing a mustache on the idol. After that was done he set about making her cross-eyed and buck toothed.

"That carving kind of looks like Druvidia," Brandon said. "Where is she?"

"Who knows?" Fabian said with a grunt as he carved the wood so it looked as if the goddess was holding a penis in each hand. "She couldn't be bothered to help us in our time of need. In fact, she pretty much abandoned us to die."

"That doesn't sound like Druvidia," Brandon said with a confused look on his face.

"Yeah? Well, it turns out she was playing you for a sucker all along. Reeling you in, pretending to be your friend, just long enough so you'd relax and expect her to help you out of a jam and then she'd just leave you hanging out to dry. That was her insidious plan all along."

"This is all very confusing," Brandon said. "She seemed so nice and genuine. Why would she abandon us to die?"

"Take this as a tough life lesson, kid. You never really know what anyone is thinking deep down. You think you know someone and then bam! Your best friend since you were six years old is screwing your ex-wife on stage for money while wearing a bright pink orc costume and eating bananas covered in whipped cream."

"Wow, that was oddly specific," Sir Mikael said. "Are you speaking from personal experience?"

"Uh, no, of course not," Fabian said. "I was just throwing that out there as an example. First thing that popped into my head. The point is you can't trust anyone really. Especially not your closest friends and family members."

"What a sad life you live," Sir Mikael said. "Well I, for one, considered Derek to be a good friend, and I feel it's our duty to honor our fallen comrade by saying a few words on his behalf. I'd say we should give him an honorable burial as well, but unfortunately there's not much left to bury."

"I'm sorry I let you down, Derek," Brandon said while wiping tears from his eyes.

"Sorry that you and Druvidia let him down," Fabian said. "At least you can take comfort in knowing you weren't the only fatal disappointment in his life. Although now that I think about it you were the one who was always defending her. I think maybe you bear some responsibility for her betrayal as well."

"Look, I only met Derek a short time ago," Sir Mikael said. "But in the brief amount of time I got to spend with him he proved himself to be a good man. A man of honor. A man that looked out for his friends and took care of them in their time of need."

"Unlike that nasty bitch Druvidia," Fabian chimed in.

"We recently learned that he was a follower of Morng, the god of yodeling and crochet. So if you can hear me, oh great Morng, we commend this soul to your safe keeping. Watch over him for the rest of eternity and be assured that you have a great and worthy follower on your side. Songs shall be sung about the bravery of Derek. Legends will be spun about his exploits. For I promise that for as long as I live I shall not let his memory be forgotten."

"Really?" Fabian asked. "You're going to sing songs and tell stories about this clown? I mean, he really wasn't much more than a glorified nurse if you think about it. And he wasn't even really all that good at that job. He never bothered to heal that scratch I got on my elbow."

"Sir, the poor man is dead," Brandon said. "Must you really talk ill of him?"

"What? Just because somebody dies, it doesn't automatically make them a saint. The guy was flawed, that's all I'm saying. There's nothing wrong with that. Everybody's got flaws. Dying doesn't make them instantly disappear."

"I shall begin composing an epic poem immediately entitled 'The Ballad of Derek the Cleric' and I shall spread it far and wide across the land. This I vow on my honor as a paladin." Sir Mikaeal dropped to one knee and mimed the symbol of an ankh across his chest.

"All right," Fabian said with an eye roll. "Do whatever you want. But if you're going to go to that much trouble for this guy I can't wait to hear the songs and stories you compose about me. Those are really going to be something."

"I believe we have spent long enough in this accursed place. Our noble quest still awaits us and I am certain that Derek would want us to see it through to completion with or without him. Let us be on the road."

"I was just about to suggest the same thing," Fabian said. "Those wood elves could come back at any moment and personally I don't really want to tangle with them again. Although it would be funny to see their reaction to the improvements I made to their idol. Oh well, imagining it will have to be reward enough. Let's be off!"