Author: Sam

Story: The Never-ending Story: 10 of 33

Series: none

Setting: Autumn 1991: The Realm of Dungeons & Dragons

Characters & Ages: Bobby- 17, Dungeon Master- unknown (Hints of Bobby/Terri relationship)

Feedback: Yes, please? Especially constructive. samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk

Webpage: http://www.oocities.org/samwise_baggins/index.html

With a thump, the young blond man found himself stumbling to the ground, nearly hitting a tree. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the dizzying swirl of color he'd just gone through, then looked around. Stunned, barely aware that he was kneeling in mud in the rain, Bobby looked around again and felt his heart constrict.

"Guess you should watch what you wish for..." he pushed to his feet and looked down at his jeans, frowning and making a face. "Eww... yuck!" Then, pausing and reviewing what he'd just said, the teen chuckled. "Guess that about sums it up, doesn't it?" With another chuckle, he turned to look around the rain-drenched, dreary world.

However, when he looked around again and noticed his solitary state, he sighed and the good mood left him. "Ah, Terri..." he shook his head. He'd actually given up hope of that portal ever working again. In fact, he'd really rather... not wanted it to work again.

Guilt flashed through him at the thought that he'd been willing to abandon Sheila and the others to the Realm. Instantly, anger welled up as well. Why should he have to worry about it? They'd decided to stay, after all. Could they blame him for making a life for himself? True, he'd been trying pretty much every day to get back, but recently it had been more of something to do, a habit, really, than a genuine effort to return to this hellhole.

Bobby sighed regretfully and started trudging through the slop. He'd actually made up his mind, finally, that he wouldn't try any more. That last effort was going to be just that, a last effort. He'd figured it would fail. He could shrug it off with a bitter smile and tell Terri, "Well, looks like I'm staying." Then he could go about trying to actually get good enough grades in his senior year to make it to the Community College, even if he'd lost the chance at a better university with his years of school neglect.

But now... now the plans he'd made deep in his heart had gone awry. He'd tempted fate one last time, just to show Terri that he was in control, knowing she was worrying about his "obsession with the Realm" as she called it; it was very small consolation that he'd been right about coming back alone. And now, he was back in the Realm and she was home on Earth... and he had no idea if the others were even still alive. They probably wanted to stay, and he'd be running in playing false hero and embarrassing himself.

Kicking at a muddy stone, idly noticing that his sneakers were covered in the thick muck, Bobby shoved his cold hands into his pockets and hunched down against the driving rain. He kind of wished that he'd have brought his leather jacket with him. It wasn't something he particularly wanted to lose in the Realm, of course, but it would have kept him a bit warmer and drier right then. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a near-forgotten voice.

"Greetings, Barbarian."

Looking up, shock written across broad features, Bobby came to a stand still before he could plow right over the diminutive man. "Dungeon Master?" his voice was incredulous and he could barely contain the joy at seeing a familiar, trusted person so soon. "How... why..."

The man held up a hand and gestured towards a copse of trees off to the side. It definitely seemed drier over there. Bobby nodded and joined the man in walking under the protective leaf canopy. Then, teen turned to elderly mage and both studied one another in a long silence.

Finally, the man spoke. "I have waited long years for you to be ready to return to us, Barbarian. You are sorely needed."

"What?" The blond shook his head, confusion in his light blue eyes. "But, I thought time was different... wait a minute, Dungeon Master, you mean you were going to send for me anyway?"

With a nod, Dungeon Master turned to study the rain outside their shelter. "Yes. You went back for a purpose, you come back for a reason." He gestured outside, glancing up sadly at the former Barbarian. "You may not yet realize your true value; it lies in more than your use of a club, Young One. However, there is another who has come to realize your worth. This is good, if the knowledge does not fall into the wrong hands."

Bobby shook his head, frowning. Years of pain, driving need, and final acceptance of defeat drove all childish delight and confusion from him. Instead, he growled and leaned close to the older man. "Stop the riddles, DM, ‘cause I ain't in the mood. Give it to me straight... now."

The white haired man nodded and looked thoughtfully over the former child he had known. He smiled, wise sadness reflected in his face. "Yes, you have grown much, Young One. There is war brewing. A great evil comes across this land. Rebuilding is well near complete, but the evil festers and grows even as we speak." He waved his hands, a globe of shimmering rainbow patterns appearing before Bobby. In it, he could see a whirl of images so quick he could barely make any of them out. "As time has passed in your world, so has it passed in ours. This is not always the way, but it is fortunate that at times the worlds coincide. This phenomena has given you time to mature so that you might also join this war."

The teen crossed his arms across his soaking T-shirt and nodded, staying quiet. He continued to glare at the man, a reminder that at the first indistinguishable riddle, his ever-precarious temper might blow... and then he wouldn't be held responsible for his actions. The world around them seemed to fade as he watched the rainbow sphere, listened to the gentle old voice.

"You left with the same knowledge I am giving you now. However, Young One, the time was not yet ripe." At Bobby's fiercer expression, Dungeon Master smiled and continued, letting the man know he wasn't trying to confuse matters. "Eight years have passed in both our worlds, and in that time the Young Ones have helped this world recover, preparing for the day when the evil would arise to conquer the Realm. That day is nigh upon us, Barbarian."

Uncrossing his arms, the frown softening to regret, Bobby whispered, "Eight years? I... I kinda thought that I'd see the others pretty much as I left them, Dungeon Master. I mean... as I remember them. Are... are they okay?"

The man shook his head and murmured, "Walk with me, Young One. We have far to go, you and I, though our paths will diverge shortly." And with that, he led Bobby back out from under the dripping trees and onto the muddy, rainy roadway. As they spoke, Dungeon Master would wave a hand, the sphere floating between them shifting with each gesture to show a different scene... but not the people Bobby most wanted to see.

"I had to send the Young Ones through the Void to place them before the evil was aware of them. Unfortunately, it is an unstable way to travel, and they were each injured in their own way."

"What! You hurt Sheila?" The low growl was a warning as easily identifiable as any sound could be.

"Not precisely. All of the Young Ones will recover in time, if they have not already recovered. The magic can take years to wear off, and often a serious shock, good or bad, will erase the effects, if nothing else does. All of the children are not affected thus; some have already recovered." He looked up at the dark frown on Bobby's face and sighed. "Sometimes haste is not the correct path, and for that decision I made eight years ago I live in regret. But, Barbarian, the Young Ones have indeed learned from their ordeals, making them stronger and better prepared for the coming war."

"Okay..." Bobby's voice held doubt rather than acceptance, but he didn't linger on that, needing as much information as this guy would give him before he pulled his habitual disappearing act. "So, talk about the war and the evil. What can I do to help, and how do I find the others?"

With a gentle, sad smile, the wise elder nodded and spoke as clearly as possible, abandoning his teaching riddles in the urgency of the situation.

Gripping the once familiar club, dressed in the familiar, hated fur loincloth and crossed leather harness, Bobby the Barbarian strode along the edge of the forest. He kept reviewing in his mind, wishing he had a notebook now when he really could use it, what the Dungeon Master had told him about each of the missions his friends had been given and why. Of course, the old man had conveniently forgotten to relay which teen was doing which mission and where, or what their injuries were, so Bobby was more frustrated with his categorization than anything.

He swung the club at some tall grass, smiling as the balance fell into place, aligning with a memory of long ago. Back then, when he'd been so runty, it had been awkward and heavy. It'd taken most of the three years he'd been here to learn to wield it properly, though he'd made a good showing the entire time. Now, it seemed to be the perfect size and weight for his grown-up self. This was right.

A sudden frown marred his face and he crushed down the next thought even as it was trying to be born. He did not belong here! He belonged back home with Terri. He was only here to find his sister and do a favor for Dungeon Master. Just because he enjoyed swinging a club didn't mean he should stay in a world of death and danger.

Smiling, he knew even deep down inside that he wasn't really interested in staying in the Realm. It was merely the old familiar weight of his club which had him nostalgic, so he wasn't afraid he'd have trouble leaving when the time was right. He could easily concentrate on what he needed to do.

The Barbarian looked up at the horizon and nodded, noticing the Standing Stones he'd been told marked the first meeting place. He wanted to go find Sheila, but Dungeon Master hadn't said where she was. All he said was that Bobby's knowledge of the Realm was extensive enough, kept alive in those notebooks all those long years, that he would be one of the most valuable assets to the cause. That, and the first of the Young Ones would be at these stones by nightfall.

As he settled down, back against a shorter stone, Bobby looked around and felt his memory tug. These were the stones where Dekkion had fought Venger. He smiled, running a hand through his too-long blond hair and settling back to wait. Soon, the sun would set. Soon he'd meet up with the first of his friends.