The woods looked like satin sheets of green, and the way became more obscure. The gnome had ceased his chanting, but now troubled him with silence. He would only accompany Poxig as far as the river Hedron. Suddenly, Sir Binural erupted in poetic muse:
“It is the river of time’s forgotten pleasures;
A veritable stream of Lethe.
The Lotos-Eaters live there,
Betwixt the shades of the earth’s bosom.”
Suddenly, Poxig remembered that it was at Hedron that he had parted ways with Lakfi. That meant that he could follow the river North to get out of the woods and back to Eyrrf. But he was no closer to his goal of Marginalia.
Now he was trapped in a forested maze that continued into eternity. His hopes of returning to Marginalia seemed less and less probable. He would have to venture alone into the terrible wood in order to get the sacred orb to the king.
The forested maze was not a panacea. It was a terrible mass of confusing pathways that led nowhere. But Poxig felt that he could see some sunlight peeking through the trees. He could see some optimism because the river Hedron meant he was halfway to his destination.
“Won’t you lead me through the dark wood?” asked Poxig to Sir Binural.
“Tempus fugit,” said the miniature sprite.
Poxig thought that he was trapped near the river Hedron, and it might be his only escape route after he parted ways with the elderly gnome. But he remembered the glint of sunlight that would lead him west when the sun set, and he was convinced that he would reach Marginalia unharmed.
Andrew J. Wolfram 