Poxig encountered the worst that the woods of Gorgola had to offer. He had eaten some bad blueberries, and nausea had overtaken his senses. As for the gnome, he was nowhere to be found. But straight through the underbrush, Poxig observed an amazing sight. A young boy was there, dressed as a pretend knight.
“You there, boy!” Poxig yelled. “What’s your name?”
“I am Gabriel,” the boy replied. “And who might you be?”
“I am Poxig the elf from Marginalia,” he said. “I have been travelling for many days with no relief in sight. Do you know these woods?”
“I do!” Gabriel replied. “I was born here, and I have been wandering these woods my whole life.”
“Can you show me the way to Marginalia?” Poxig asked.
“Of course! But you have to give me something in return,” said the boy.
“Name anything!” Poxig said out of desperation.
“You must bring me an amethyst for my rock collection,” he said.
Poxig had no amethyst to speak of. But he took out a purple bauble from his belt, one that he had acquired from a gift shop in Eyrrf, which was made of glass.
“Here is the amethyst that you desire,” Poxig said.
The boy could not contain his excitement. “Give it here!” he said.
Poxig had fooled the boy. If it had not been for the gnomic pronouncement, he would not have trusted Gabriel. The boy merrily showed him the trail that would lead him back to Marginalia. Poxig could only think of the Latin phrase he had heard from Sir Binural: mirabile dictu.
“What does that mean?” asked Gabriel.
“Wonderful to relate…” replied the relieved elf.
Andrew J. Wolfram 