Arnie woke suddenly. He was on his back within the boundaries of the village walls exactly where he had fallen asleep. The bubblegum pink sky remained unchanged. The sky here didn't change, it was the same all day and night. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. He didn't feel tired, although the feasting had gone on for a long time. He had no idea how long he had been sleeping for.

The pens and pencils were sleeping all around. There were a few of the thicker pens standing guard around the group, and Arnie noticed Flimgog and Alagog were standing across the clearing. They both waved and Arnie wondered if they had slept at all. A few feet away, Isabelle was still sleeping, her face looked peaceful. His gaze lingered on her yellow, green and blue hair. She wore that same mischeivous smile.

They had talked yesterday for hours. She was, as he suspected from her paint spattered t-shirt, a painter. She was 19 years old and lived in a small flat in Edinburgh. She was not at university, but worked in a bar and spent the rest of her time painting, walking and, as she put it, admiring the beauty in the world. As they talked he thought you couldn't get two more opposite people. Him with his Scientific, logical thinking patterns and her with her abstract, admiring views of the world. And yet they seemed to click. He told her how he had ended up in Sockland. She laughed as he told her of the "trap" he had set to follow his lost sock.

Her story was a very different one. She had been painting a picture, her easel was set up in her small living room. On her painting she had painted a pink sky, with violet grass - just like the area surrounding this very village. She loved to paint new looks into things, new ways of viewing the real world, different colours, odd shapes, twists and turns. When she got to the point where she was mulling over what colour to make the sun she felt herself pulled forward by the paintbrush in her hand. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't pull back and was sucked right into the landscape of the painting. When she landed amidst the violet grass, she saw her paintbrush had grown legs and ran off into the distance away from the village. The pens had come quickly, and just like what happened to him with the pencils, she was trained and put to use in the war. (Although she wasn't beaten like he was.)

Arnie decided he wouldn't wake her and got up quietly. He stalked over to where Alagog and Flimgog stood. "Did you sleep at all?" he asked them, keeping his voice low.

"Yes Arnold, we each slept a little, but we wanted to keep watch."

Arnie nodded, understanding their discomfort. They stood in silence together looking over the assembled pens and pencils, sleeping peacefully. Arnie was pleased to see that some had mingled together even in sleep. It seemed that the long-created animosity between the two races wouldn't take too long to subside.

The pen leader appeared from his building, surrounded by a small number of pen guards. As he approached the clearing a sound blared through the area. The pens and pencils woke suddenly. The pens rose quickly, clearly aware that the leader was approaching. The pencils rose equally quickly, but they looked ready to defend. Alagog called to them,

"Be calm, all is well. Gather around me." The pencils moved quickly and gathered around. Arnie saw Isabelle get up and he waved as she made her way towards the pen leader. She waved back with a smile, her eyes bright.

The pen leader stopped at the edge of the village clearing. "Today we march to our friends in the pencil village. I will also send runners to our other villages to release all pencil soldiers and tell them to meet us there. Then we will march on the paintbrushes and end the fighting." There was a cheer from the crowd, pens and pencils alike. Arnie had long since gathered that the pens and pencils didn't like violence.

Runners were sent first, in teams of two to all corners of Writingshire to spread the word. The pen leader spoke again, "Now we will march. If they would be so kind, I would like us to follow our pencil friends as they lead us on."

Flimgog nodded and lead his soldiers to the gate. Arnie told him he would follow up the back of the crowd and waited where he was until the rest had gathered. The pen leader positioned himself at the head of the group amidst the pencils. Arnie saw him in conversation with Flimgog and Alagog. The tensions were even less now.

Isabelle came to where Arnie was standing and brushed his arm lightly. "Can I walk with you?" her musical voice sounded amused.

"Of course." he heard the contrast in his own voice and thought he sounded a bit stiff. He tried to relax. The butterflies in his stomach were making it difficult.

The group started moving out through the village gate. It was a large group. The pen leader had decided to take everyone. The pace was slow as they filtered up the hill and back into the glittering forest. Arnie and Isabelle walked in silence, trudging along. Arnie felt happy. Happy that the war could end, happy that the pencil soldiers were being freed. He looked around at the forest catching glimpses of the weird and wonderful plants and wildlife.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Isabelle said.

"Yep, it really is." he answered.

"I would love to paint this forest. The trees are incredible."

"They are that, but I find them quite hard to look at for any length of time." Arnie replied.

"Aye, but that makes the painting all the more fun." she said and they fell into silence once more.

It didn't seem long until they came to the edge of the forest and arrived at Shadingston again. The deserted village looked just as it was when they left. Arnie noticed that the group was going around the outer wall and not through the village. They continued on until they were past the front gate and on track for the main pencil village.Three pencil soldiers and three pens had been sent in to free the pen prisoners they had left. They would catch up.

The walk was uneventful. A trek through the now familiar land. The group seemed in good spirits. Some pens had moved to the front and some pencils had fallen back into the main body of the group. The air was filled with high-pitched voices chatting endlessly and animatedly.

When the pencil village came into view in the distance, Flimgog raised his arm and stopped the group. He spoke to the pen leader. Arnie couldn't hear what they said so he turned to Isabelle, "Let's go forward and find out the plan."

She nodded and they began to move up through the crowd. Pens and pencils moved out of their way as they approached the leaders. "Arnold. Isabelle." Alagog bowed slightly as he said there names. "We are just discussing the best plan of action."

Flimgog spoke now. "I believe we should go forward to the village, myself, the pen leader, Isabelle and you. That way we can explain the situation without causing any undue alarm." he pointed down at the village. Arnie noticed the pencil guards on the gate, standing ready at attention. He knew they could see the group and imagined the leader was wondering what was going on.

Arnie nodded his agreement as did the pen leader and Isabelle. A pen soldier stepped forward and addressed the leader of the pens, a note of urgency in his voice. "Sir, please, you should have some guards. For you safety." The pen leader cut him off with a raised hand. "Do not worry Blathmyre, I am among friends now. There is no need for caution." It was obvious that Blathmyre didn't share his masters confidence, but it was also clear he wasn't going to argue.

The leader spoke to the group behind him, "Wait here for the signal. I am going down to meet the leader of the pencils with my friends to explain to him all that has happened."

The pens in the crowd called their agreement and began to settle on the ground. Alagog took his turn to speak to those gathered. "All pencil soldiers shall remain with our allies here until given the signal. We will give the signal when the time is right, and then we will guide them into the village. I will be here with you while Flimgog goes on ahead." The pencils shouted their acknowledgement.

"Let's go." It was Flimgog who spoke and then began walking towards the village. Those who were going with him followed behind. As they reached the gate, the guards looked confused and cautious. Flimgog spoke to them. "Hail brothers for I have returned. You know me and you know Arnold. We have brought friends with us to meet with the leader. We have matters of great urgency to discuss."

"Flimgog brother welcome home! You understand that we cannot let you pass immediately with unknown guests. A pen of rank and another human, who, if i am not mistaken, is the very weapon of the pens. Why do they accompany you?"

"This is the leader of the pens." There was a small, almost inaudible gasp from the guards, "And this is Isabelle. She was the weapon of the pens that is true. However, times have changed and the war has taken a most unexpected turn. We require audience with the leader immediately."

The guard nodded. "Very well. A messenger shall be sent requesting an audience. Sit patiently here while we wait for his return." The lead guard clapped his hands and one of the soldiers detached and ran off up the path towards the house of the leader.

It wasn't long before the doors reopened in the distance and Arnie saw the messenger reappear, flanked by six of the biggest pencil guards he had seen. They moved with great speed down to the gate. Upon their arrival, one of the large guards spoke, his voice deep. "Arnold, Flimgog come with me, bring your guests."

The gate guards moved aside and they all entered the village. The six guards surrounded the group and they were led up the hill to the leaders house. The door was open, more guards filled the halls. Flimgog nodded to them all as he passed. When they reached the chamber of the leader they were led straight through the middle of the room. The pencil leader gazed at them, his eyes burning with intense curiosity. Flimgog knelt before the stately chair of the leader. Arnold, Isabelle and the pen leader all followed suit.

After a pause and with his eyes still burning with the intense thirst for answers the one who ruled the pencils spoke. His voice was measured and calm.

"Well, I believe there is a tale to be told and it promises to be fascinating. Better be comfortable for the telling." And he clapped his hands.

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