Chapter Four: A Not So Far Away Place
(Note: This is not official version and may be removed in the near future. This do not reflect what is read in the podcast version, nor any other version you may encounter. I have preserved the rough form for posterity — or something like that. This novel has since been rewritten.) James found shade under a massive tree—a thick, walnut shaped thing with branches running like vines in and out of themselves. He sat there in awe. Angtholand, wide and magnificent, stretched for miles in every direction, seemingly untouched by human hands except where he had seen a city. Pure, he thought. He could just imagine what the people back home would do to a place of such beauty. Destroy it. A short spurt of nausea dropped into the pit of his stomach. Traveling through the portal, tunnel, or whatever it was had left his insides feeling out of place, as if they had been turned upside down, rolled around, and then flipped suddenly to their original position. He likened it to the feeling he sometimes got on the ocean bobbing up and down in the never-ending waves. James felt horribly alone, and rightly so. He had nobody to turn to on Angtholand, no friends or family, and no allies. It had been far too long since someone had passed through the satin bag for there to be allies. He needed them the most, that he knew; friends he could deal with later. He looked towards the city again. It was obvious now that people lived there as he could see small plumes of smoke rising up the face of the connected towers, and if he squinted there were people walking along the stone bridge between the towers and the tops of the walls that encased the city. He guessed that the city sat only a mile or two away, which he found fortunate. Every other identifying feature that he could see—the mountains, lakes, and rivers—were many miles distant from where he had landed. Only one river came close to the city, but that added distance to the journey he would have to make. A city also meant the greatest chance of him finding out where Laura had been taken. James found his bag, swung it over his shoulder, and started to walk through the pasture, taking care to stay in the shorter grasses. He didn’t know what sort of creatures lived there, nor if they were dangerous. The terrain was easy, the ground smooth with few rocks to hinder his movement. Tall grasses and little green flowers that stuck up like sore thumbs among the tans and golden browns filled his vision. Hidden deeper in the grass were little blue plants tinged with purple lines. A few birds fluttered away from him, flapping their golden and crimson colored wings hurriedly. A perfectly pristine landscape in his eyes. No place in Woodton could match the beauty before him. Yet he missed home and the comfort of a familiar terrain. Something scurried around in the grass nearby and drew his attention with a giggle—childish and bubbly. When he turned towards it, another giggle rang behind him, and then a moment later as he turned again, at his side. James felt no fear, only a sense of curiosity that pushed deep and hard at his instincts. He took a few more steps and heard the giggle sound again, this time in front, followed by a sudden burst of movement in a tall batch of grass as if a faint wind touched them. To his surprise a tiny leg appeared through the brush, covered in an emerald fabric. On the foot was a large black shoe. Another leg appeared and the creature scurried out enough to show its behind. James marveled at the size of the two legs. They were less than a foot tall, as thin as two pencils lying side-by-side, and completely clothed in the tiniest pair of pants that he had ever seen. Then the creature came out completely from the brush, dragging behind it a suitcase proportional to its size. James looked down at the barely two foot tall man-like being that stood before him. The beard gave James the only identifying marker that it was male. The little man seemed to ignore him as he unraveled his red cloak and allowed it to fall over his emerald pants and shoes. Then he brushed himself off and looked James straight in the eye. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to stare at people?” the man said. His voice had a strange accent that James had never heard before—almost as if it were European or British. “I-I.” James tried to speak but couldn’t think of anything good to say. He’d heard of dwarves, even seen them on television, but never had he heard of such a tiny person in his life. The man stood there a moment, staring up at James. His little green eyes, scruffy brown beard that traveled up the sides of his face in long sideburns that collided with two pointed and furry ears, bushy eyebrows, and light tan skin were so foreign to James. Even the little hat on top of his head seemed out of place. “Well,” the man said, breaking the silence angrily, “should I say hello first and introduce myself or were you planning on showing me the courtesy of interest?” James stuttered again, before saying timidly, “I’m James.” The little man smiled warmly and gently bowed, pulling his hat off and swinging it to the side delicately. “I am Pantifilus the Great. You may also call me Pantifilus the Wise, or for conversational purposes you can simply call me Pea.” “Pea?” “Yes. P-E-A. Stands for Pantifilus the Extraordinarily Abnormal.” Pea stood straight. “I might have you know that when a man bows to you it is quite rude not to bow back.” “Oh, I’m sorry.” James bowed quickly to Pea. “Where are you from that you would not know that