The green grass swayed before them in high, lush swathes as they stepped out from the portal into this far-flung world, its twin suns shining high in a clear, cloudless sky. A pale, twinkling glimmer of colours arced beyond the horizon: the wide, distant rings that wound gracefully around the planet, stretching out into space.

For a moment the Earthly visitors were still, taking in this alien landscape and its natural beauty. Things here were similar to what they had left behind; trees stood sturdy around them, mountains loomed in the distance and unseen animals chittered and chirped with sounds that could belong to squirrels or blackbirds found in their own back gardens.

Lizzy twitched her whiskers, her white rabbit ears swivelling, delighting in it all, “it’s like home, isn’t it?” she breathed.

Mortimer nodded, slowly, looking around, his long, grey aardvark ears flicking, “yes, it is.”

Patrick scuffed a booted toe in the dirt, testing it in case it held surprises, “even the worms are the same,” he remarked, gruffly. “Your nephew lives here, does he?”

The aardvark furrowed his grey brow, “well,” he said, slowly, “somewhere here, yes. This isn’t quite where I arrived the last time I visited…” in fact, none of this was remotely close to what he had seen on his last visit. There had been a low, vast desert stretching out to the edge of the ocean. It had an army base built on it.

“Oh?” Lizzy asked, surprised, “I wonder why the dragon sent us somewhere different? You don’t think he got us… lost, do you?”

Mortimer shrugged, “maybe. He has a loose grip on reality if you ask me. Dragons exist at all points of time simultaneously and they do struggle to live in the moment.  But, I’m going to give the odd scaly fellow the benefit of the doubt and say that we’ve found ourselves where he wanted us.”

Patrick straightened his flat cap upon his balding human head, “we’re built for the outdoors, we are; all those years working in all weather, let’s head towards the mountains and see what comes our way. I’ve got my sword, should any trouble arise,” he patted the old family heirloom broadsword on his belt, affectionately.

Mortimer followed his friend, holding Lizzy’s soft pale paw in his own grey hand; “good idea, there will be fresh water and shelter at the very least. Maybe we’ll find a settlement and meet some of the people who live here. It’s like a camping holiday in the Lake District, just without a tent. Or a compass.”

“Will the portal… stay open?” she asked, concerned.

They turned back to look. There was only grass and hills to be seen.

“That’s a ‘no’” Mortimer replied.

“Good job I asked Duncan to give old Hawthorn his medication while we were back at Warlock Court,” she sniffed with her delicate, pink nose. “I just hope he doesn’t forget. That boy is always too busy bossing the other stable grooms about to pay attention to his own duties. My poor old donkey will miss me.”

Patrick started singing, his deep voice floating along the breeze; “and did those feet, in ancient times, walk among England’s mountains green?”

“He’s off,” Mortimer grinned.

“I’ve never seen him so alive, all this adventuring must be good for him,” Lizzy laughed.

“The thing about adventures, my dear, is that quiet moments never last,” Mortimer warned, his long, slender, ears pricking as an urgent sound drifted on the wind.

“Heeeeeeeelp!”

“Ah, would you know it; there’s our cue! Patrick! You hear that?” he called.

“Bring me my bow of burning gold; bring me my arrow of desire!”

He cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered, “Patrick!!”

“Hmm? Yes, Monty?” the human glanced behind him, visibly upset at being interrupted mid-song.

“Someone needs our … “

“Heeeeeelp!”

“Yes,” Mortimer blinked, “that.”

In a moment, the portly human man grabbed at the pommel of his heavy sword and brought it out of his leather belt in a dramatic flourish with both hands; “away!” he cried, leaping off in the direction of the trees.

The rabbit doe’s eyes widened; “wait, you can’t just rush off like that! You don’t know what’s out there!”

“I’m ready for anything! I killed a dragon, remember?” Patrick roared, speeding away.

“It was a group effort,” she reminded him, but he wasn’t listening.

Within the shade of the curious trees, an elf was dangling by the ankles from a coarse rope, “oh, thank the goddess, rescuers!”

Patrick wasted no time, hacking his sword merrily at the winding cord, “be free, my pointy-eared friend!”

“Wait! Aaargh…” the slim, pale-skinned humanoid came crashing down into the dust in a heap, groaning, “Holy Mother…” he coughed as his face was smothered. “You could have at least caught me…”

“Terribly sorry,” Mortimer apologised, offering a helping hand, “he’s rather eager.”

The elf scowled, allowing himself to be aided upright, brushing dust from his fair-skinned angular face with a long sleeve as he got to his feet. He came face to face with the aardvark’s snout and leaped back, yelping, “yikes! A talking animal! Don’t eat me!” he held out slender fingers, stumbling back to get away.

“No, no, we mean you no harm,” Mortimer assured him. “We heard your cries for help. What happened to you? Are you alright?”

Emerald green eyes scanned the aardvark from head to foot, carefully and calculatingly, “I am a clumsy elf,” he muttered. “I lost my scouting party and fell into a trap. My name is Chase,” he paused.

“I’m Mortimer, I’m an aardvark, this is Lizzy, an albino rabbit and my over-enthusiastic human friend here is Patrick, we are… visitors to these lands.”

The elf rubbed sore ankles, red lines showing from where the ropes had cut in, hopping, “is that right?”

“I freed an elf,” Patrick boasted, puffing out his large chest, “I always wanted to meet an elf.”

Chase cricked his skinny shoulders and tossed his long, flowing golden hair, “if we hang about you’ll be meeting orcs, too, so we best get moving. I don’t fancy being on the menu.”

“Orcs!” Patrick’s eyes widened, “nasty brutes. I can take them!” he waved his sword about, carelessly.

The elf gave the chubby human a withering look, “I doubt that. Have you met one?”

“I’ve read about them,” Patrick replied, “they’re strong, yes, but very dumb. Like trolls. Do you know of the book titled The Hobbit? There’s trolls in that one.”

The elf began to walk away deeper into the woods, beckoning them to follow, “we don’t want to meet any of those, neither. Anyway, the orcs around these parts are a different breed to what you’re used to, instead of fighting amongst themselves they’ve formed alliances and are encroaching on our territory. I only hope your noise hasn’t alerted them.”

“Our noise? You were the one yelling for help,” Patrick objected.

“I meant the singing.” The elf moved quietly, his soft shoes barely leaving any prints. He wore a long, brown tunic, blending in well with his surroundings, the only colour of note to his outfit was a slim gold belt at his equally slim waist, where he had a dagger slipped in for defence.  A graceful weapon for a graceful warrior. Occasionally he would glance back at Mortimer and scan him from head to toe, frowning.

“He really doesn’t like you,” Lizzy remarked.

“I noticed,” the aardvark hissed.

“Do you have a village in the trees? Are there flower lanterns? How about a magic waterfall?” Patrick tried to goad the handsome elf into conversation but he was swiftly hushed by the elf.

“We’re almost there,” Chase said in low tones, “you will need to listen carefully to my instructions or there will be trouble.”

“Oh, boy!” Patrick grinned.

Chase snapped, “I do not know what manner of creature you are, but you do not seem to appreciate the danger that surrounds you.” His green eyes were piercing. “These are wild woods, not to be underestimated! We elves are at one with nature and are tolerated by the trees, but you…”

Lizzy had the decency to acknowledge his wisdom, “this is your home, we’ll follow and do as you say” she promised.

“I’m glad one of you strange creatures has some sense.”

Patrick’s brow creased, “me? I’m a human. Are there no humans here?”

“It is an alien planet, dear,” Mortimer sighed.

“Elves aren’t aliens, surely?”

The aardvark shrugged, “why not?”

A shadow dropped from above and a bright blade flashed.

Patrick was ready; “Hyaa!” he cried, lunging forward heroically, clashing his two-handed weapon against their dark-clothed assailant.

“Wait! No!,” the elf panicked, pulling Patrick’s quilted Barbour jacket back by the hem, forcefully.

The shadow pushed forward, driving its delicate, razor-edged sword up against the old, notched one until Patrick’s arms were being knocked away with a ‘crick!’ and he yelped. Determined, he kicked out with a boot at where the shadows groin would be.

“Nice try,” a light, clear voice praised, stepping back. “Spunky. I like it.”

“Hi, Brook,” Chase waved, awkwardly. “Sorry about this guy…”

The shadow pulled back the hood of their dark robe and smirked with a proud humour; “don’t be, he fights better than you do.”

Patrick stammered as the graceful lady elf gave him a haughty sneer, curling her blush lips to show pearly teeth.

“Thought you were an orc…” he gulped.

“I’ve never been so insulted,” her amber eyes sparkled under long lashes. She didn’t look insulted, at least.

“They’re… not from around here,” Chase explained.

“No shit. We thought you were gone for good this time,” she said accusingly at her fellow elf, giving him a rude prod, “scouting party came back hours ago. You should have been a cook, less traps involved in that role. What was it this time? Tripped over a tree root and fell in a ravine? Tumbled into a fox hole?”

Chase flushed.

“You’re not thinking of bringing them in, are you?” she nodded her beautiful head at the curious trio.

“I can’t leave them out here. Look at them!”

The trio glanced around, embarrassed, not used to being regarded as such oddities.

The lady elf took a deep inhale, “true,” she breathed slowly. She looked at Mortimer a moment longer.

“We don’t wish to intrude,” the aardvark smiled.

“I do! I rescued your elf,” Patrick boasted, “I’m a fierce warrior, I am!”

“Our elf is always being rescued,” she sighed, “come on in. Before an orc gets you… or worse.”

“There’s worse things than orcs?” Lizzy gulped.

“Giant spiders!” Patrick squealed, happily, “wargs!”

The rabbit rolled her eyes, “great.”

The elven glade was bathed in sunlight as their night-robed guardian led the visitors through pretty mossy paths and beside still sparkling ponds. Around them, huts made of living plants bloomed and various furry critters scampered over them. Patrick was in his element; “it’s wonderful!” he exclaimed, “do you have a Council? Is there a High elf in charge? How about a powerful lady sorceress?”

“Where are you from, exactly?” Brook asked, sharply.

“Earth!”

“Never heard of it,” she declared, haughtily, “and I’ve studied many maps.”

Mortimer interrupted, “do you know of the Lowlands?”

She halted abruptly, “I would be very careful naming that place aloud, if I were you.” She slicked back her short, auburn hair, “it is a cursed place. A dark place. A place of monsters and peril. Nobody who goes there ever returns.”

Once again, the aardvark found himself under intense scrutiny. He pretended to be interested in a shiny pebble and said no more.

Lizzy leaned over, “is that where your nephew is?” she whispered.

He nodded. “Best keep it to ourselves, it’s full of those orcs they keep talking about.”

The doe looked shocked, “no! Aren’t they… bad guys?”

“My nephew is not evil!” he hissed.

“But… he was a demon, wasn’t he?”

“That’s right,” Patrick chimed in, “you said he worked in the Underworld, under the instruction of the Dark Lord himself.”

Mortimer’s ears drooped, “he was only an office worker, he’s a good kid,” he mumbled.

Lizzy and Patrick exchanged a look and exhaled.

Up ahead, a group of armour-clad guards stood aside to allow entry into the largest building crafted from thick, barbed vines, with a moss-laden roof. They collectively sniggered as Chase approached and he gave them a brittle smile. Brook bared her teeth at them and they soon stopped, bowing their heads respectfully.

“It’s alright, sis,” he moaned, “I’m used to it.”

“No, it isn’t. Only I get to laugh at you. Father’s going to rip you a new one, anyway. He’s at the end of his tether.”

“I know!” he wailed, softly.

A lavishly-dressed elven man stood by a window with his back to them, a finely-crafted circlet of silver flowers around his full head of tumbling, ebony locks. He didn’t turn as they entered his chamber.

“What is your report?” he demanded, shortly.

“No orcs in the forest, today, father.”

“And beyond the forest?”

Chase closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, “I didn’t get that far…”

Broad shoulders sagged, “of course, you didn’t. Luckily, the rest of your party managed that great feat. I don’t have anywhere else to put you, Chase” he rasped, “you can’t hunt, you can’t fight, you can’t track… one of these days you’ll end up in a green-skin’s pot! You’re meant to be my successor!”

“Brook can take my place,” Chase offered, “she can do everything!”

“That’s not how it’s supposed to be!” he turned, eyes flashing, full of anger and disappointment.

He froze, seeing his extra audience. “Who are these misfits?!” he exploded.

Mortimer waved, awkwardly, “hi! We are… travellers… from a strange land.”

“I’m not a misfit!” Patrick gruffed, barging past his friends, “I’m a Lord! I killed a dragon I’ll have you know!”

“He’s not going to let up on that, is he?” Lizzy sighed.

“I also cut your son down from a trap before an orc could get him,” he added, folding his thick arms. “You should be thanking me.”

The noble elf banged on the dining table, sending plates clattering, “I will do no such thing! Now, if you’d brought me a dead orc it would be a different matter! As a dragon-slayer I should imagine a thick, ugly, green brute to pose no challenge!”

“Well, I didn’t find one, or I would have,” Patrick growled.

“Then you didn’t look hard enough! Our lands are crawling with the filthy, evil things! Wandering around our elven realm like they own the place, dirty unkempt things that they are. I want them gone! We don’t want their kind here!!” He straightened up again, peering down at them. There was a moment of quiet.

He broke into an odd smile, “where are my manners? You will be in need of refreshment, a light meal, perhaps. Brook, please take our guests into a more private area, I wish to speak to your brother alone.”

“Yes, father,” she answered, respectfully, passing with a barely visible sympathetic nod to her hapless brother who remained, standing stiff and ashen-faced.

Lizzy sipped her water, glancing at Mortimer, “everyone who looks at you goes a bit funny,” she said. “Have you noticed? It all started at the horse auction with that ice dragon collecting the Nightmares.”

“I have no magical powers,” he reminded her, “that’s my nephew.”

Patrick waved a queer-looking pink vegetable in his large fist, “aardvarks are very rare,” he chewed, “probably don’t know what to make of you. I know I didn’t when I first met you.”

“Humans aren’t common here, neither, apparently, but you don’t have that effect on anyone, Patrick.”

“Shhh!” the very rare aardvark held his finger to his lips, lifting his long, slender ears.

“…exactly the opportunity you’ve been waiting for,” the elder elf’s voice could be heard faintly through the walls.

“What?!” Chase cried.

“…you’ll not be going far… it’s your chance to prove yourself… make me proud.”

“What’s going on?” the human asked, woefully lacking in the aural department.

“Chase is being sent somewhere and he doesn’t sound happy about it,” Lizzy explained.

“Seems that boy can’t go anywhere without something unfortunate happening to him, that’s why,” Patrick chuckled. “Poor sod.”

Lizzy put down her empty glass, “we need to be getting somewhere, too. The Lowlands. Shame we can’t ask for directions seeing as it’s a cursed place overrun by monsters.” She shot Mortimer a glare.

He frowned, “you met the dragon who lives there! He’s a nice chap. Odd, yes, but you would be too if you were an ageless entity made up of magic.”

“He was nice to us,” she hissed, “but the more I think about it, the more it seems as though he’s running some villainous outfit with your nephew. Putting an ex-demon in charge of his evil orcs? Collecting weapons? Come on, Monty, it sounds bad.”

“It wasn’t all orcs, there were rats, too.”

Lizzy held his gaze. “Rats…”

“Didn’t a rat murder your ancestor?” Patrick asked, cautiously.

The doe banged her fuzzy head on the table in frustration and lay, groaning.

“Well, that was a very bad rat,” but Mortimer knew how it sounded. He decided against telling them about his nephew’s best friends – dinosaurs would be overkill at this point.

The elf in charge of the village appeared once more, again bearing a brittle smile. The sunlight from the windows caught the fine embroidery of his purple cloak, running down the hems like a silver stream. Pulling back a chair he poured himself a glass of water, striking up conversation; “so, you are adventurers from strange lands? We don’t see many of your kind in this part of the world. Tell me about the dragon you defeated; was it a fierce battle?” he sipped, delicately, sitting back to allow Patrick to take the lead.

“Oh, most certainly! He was a big brute, full of ice and chill – with terrible jaws…” he touched his head where he had been locked in the creature’s teeth, though he was now fully healed, “he had me in his mouth! I thought I was doomed. His claws, like knives, slashed into poor Mortimer while he spurred his nightmare steed on to melt the scaly bugger. His tail whipped at me… I think I have a hole in my shirt, somewhere…” he fussed at his beige checked work shirt under his blue Barbour jacket, looking for the signs of his combat. “But once the nightmares had drained the dragon of its powers I drove my sword right into him!” he swung his hand down upon the table, his palm hitting the wooden top with a slam. “Dead. Like Zeus taking down Cronus, I defeated a titan!”

“He’s not going to know Greek mythology, dear,” Mortimer advised.

“I’ve never lost a scrap,” Patrick’s eyes twinkled as the elf drained his goblet.

“It seems you have arrived just in time for us, how fortunate we are to have such a mighty warrior in our midst. My son… Chase… needs a great victory against a formidable foe to secure his promotion to Glade Guardian. I’m sure it hasn’t escaped your notice that he is lacking in heroic capabilities.”

“We can help your son in his noble quest, no problem,” Patrick assured the elf, full of self-confidence.

Lizzy and Mortimer exchanged worried glances. The rabbit held up a paw, “when you say a formidable foe?”

The elf shifted in his seat, “an orcs would do” he said, “I’ll take anything at this point.”

“You want us to help Chase kill an orc? He said they have an alliance thing going on, won’t that start some sort of war?” Mortimer asked., his face full of concern.

“They shouldn’t be trespassing on elven soil! I wanted him to lead my scouts out to look for one, but the silly boy got himself caught. He’s meant to be my successor, but he has no victory with which I can reward him the title of Glade Guardian. If he could just kill one orc…” he was almost pleading now, “one!”

Mortimer was frowning, “and how many elves have these orcs killed?”

The elf looked shocked, “what?”

“You’re saying you want your son to go out and kill and orc, but have these orcs actually hurt you?”

Patrick was outraged, “have you never read The Lord of the Rings?! Orcs are foul, wicked creatures, serving a dark master!”

Lizzy turned to the aardvark and mouthed: ‘told you.’

“I’m just saying, maybe they’re unaware that this is your home. Have you tried talking to them?”

Patrick scoffed, “you’ve got to be kidding me? They’re savage!”

The elf was nodding, “so you will help me? Your experience in combat outshines any of us and my son needs all the help he can get. You’ve seen his clumsiness – he can’t even get out of the forest without something calamitous happening to him! He needs his hand held at all times and I need Brook here as she’s the best fighter we have. When those monsters do decide to attack us,” he glared at the aardvark, “we must be ready.”

Patrick clapped Mortimer on the tweed shoulder, “it’s the adventure we always wanted! Helping a young lad to fulfil his destiny, slaying evil orcs; marvellous! And when we’re done, maybe they can help you find your nephew? What was that place called, again?”

Mortimer’s grey eyes widened as he quickly cut in before his friend could say too much, “maybe!” he squeaked, “one thing at a time, old chap.”

The elf stroked a sharp chin, looking at the aardvark, “what did you say your name was?”

“Mortimer,” he replied, cagedly, leaving out his surname on purpose.

“And you are a…?”

“I’m an aardvark.”

“A grey-skinned warrior, with long ears and snout…” the elf mused.

“That’s my pal!” Patrick nodded.

“No,” the elf shook his head, “not you. I am speaking of the monstrous rider of the Winged Horror.”

Mortimer gulped. “Winged Horror?”

“A frightening beast that dominates the skies over barren lands to the east, past the mountains. Black as night with wings like a dragon, its haunting screams are said to bring fear to all that are unfortunate enough to hear them. I hear it spits green fire and is drawn to the clamour of battle.”

Mortimer’s ears dropped. He could feel Lizzy’s stare upon him. The description fit Destroyer except for the green fire. Maybe this was another nightmare? Or a different animal completely? The grey rider didn’t necessarily have to be his nephew; it could be a coincidence. It had to be a coincidence. Anar was not a monster, nor was he evil, despite apparent evidence to the contrary. Worry gnawed at the pit of his stomach; what if he was wrong? What if the dragon had sent them here to learn the awful truth? The dragon had claimed that its hoard of weapons was being used for good, but could you trust a dragon?

“Do you have any creatures like that, where you are from?” the elf asked with a hard stare.

“No,” they all said in unison.

“Then you are fortunate. Your land must be very peaceful.”

“Hardly!” Patrick scoffed, “but we don’t have orcs or wargs to contend with on our world, at least.”

The elf blinked as Mortimer and Lizzy groaned a little.

“What?” Patrick asked, “so we walked through a portal, so what? that’s probably normal for a place like this!”

“I don’t think it’s normal anywhere, Patrick!” Mortimer scolded.

The elf sat bolt upright, “you have access to the Trans-Dimensional-Warpway system?” he rasped.

Patrick was determined to redeem himself from his slight oversight; “did,” he corrected, “but not anymore. It closed up behind us. We can’t use it now.”

The elf slumped back down again, “sounds about right. The dragons have the warpways solely in their control.” He sounded bitter.

Mortimer’s ears pricked up again, “dragons?” he asked, hopefully, “we’re looking for a dragon, too.”

“What a splendid coincidence!” the elf cried, “you shall take my nephew with you on your dragon-slaying quest and he shall defeat it, proving himself finally worthy of taking over my duties! I will make it worth your while, we have plenty of gold here.”

Patrick’s eyes lit up, “gold is good!” he nodded.

“I won’t say no,” Lizzy agreed.

“Wait, what? No! We weren’t going to kill the dragon!”

The elf jabbed a thumb towards Patrick, “but he’s a dragon-slayer, is he not?”

Patrick puffed out, proudly, “that’s right!”

Lizzy patted Mortimer’s shoulder, “there’s got to be other dragons, and we’re here for an adventure, aren’t we? This sounds like what you do on adventures, helping elves and slaying evil monsters.”

“Just watch out for the Winged Horror,” the elf warned, “and its grey rider. There are deep, shadowy places in this world that you cannot comprehend, evil spews from the furthest corners, shrouded in smoke and thunder. If my son should die on this important mission, I will hunt you down myself!”

“A dragon?” Chase moaned, pulling at his face in angst, “I can’t slay a dragon! Who convinced my father of such a thing? I thought he wanted me to kill an orc and that was bad enough…”

Mortimer shuffled his feet on the soil at the elf village entrance, mumbling bitterly to himself. He wanted to see his nephew and that had now gone completely to pot, hadn’t it? Not to mention now his pals had collectively decided Anar was evil and leading a monstrous army. Well, yes, the army was made up of rats and orcs and goblins, but they were all doing philanthropic things, or so he’d been told. Helping people and stuff like that. It was useless arguing it any further, now, they’d made their minds up. He only knew of one dragon and that was the one who had brought them here and they couldn’t kill him, could they? Preposterous!

“It’s easy!” Patrick reassured the hapless elf, “all you have to do is drain their magic and stab ‘em! Piece of cake.”

“We just have to find one,” Lizzy mused, “any ideas on that, Chase?”

“I don’t want to find one! They’re huge, with big teeth and - and big wings and even larger claws!” he was almost sobbing, now. “I only know of the possible location of one of those scaly beasts and trust me, that’s a place you couldn’t drag me while my heart’s still beating.”

“There’s four of us,” Lizzy said, firmly, “and we’ve sworn not to let you die, so point us in the right direction and let’s get cracking.”

The elf’s shoulders sagged and he walked out into the forest with heavy footsteps, “east,” he complained, “east until the dusty mountains rise up. We’re going to meet monsters; we’re going to have to fight hideous creatures and I’m crap with a sword. We’re going to the land of the Winged Horror. We’re going to die a hideous death, you’ll see. My father won’t have to punish you, we’ll all be warg dinner!”

“I’m not afraid of wargs,” Patrick barked.

“I am! Big, snappy, flea-ridden giant wolves with paws as big as your face? No thanks.”

“Maybe you could kill a warg instead, then?” Mortimer offered.

“No! Somebody told my father that we could slay a dragon and it’s a dragon he wants. Thanks, thanks a bundle.”

Brook waved them farewell and Chase’s face twisted again, calling out for her to remember him fondly.

She shook her head, smiling, “you’ll be back, dear brother, you’ll be back with a story to tell, I know it! Don’t go tripping over any tree roots, now, or falling into any traps!”

“I’m deeeeaaaad,” he wailed, mournfully, “I’m so dead!”

“He does go on, doesn’t he?” Patrick rolled his eyes. “Bilbo wasn’t like this. He wanted to go on an adventure and he was only a halfling!”