by 
But I hope you like it!A long time ago, Tenewick Vagbatcher happened upon the wagon of a travelling wizard. The wizard himself was nowhere to be found. Tenewick could hear an unidentifiable “twinkling sound” coming from inside the vehicle. Visions of glittering gold in his mind, Tenewick halfheartedly called out to the owner, and when there was no response after several attempts, he assured himself that it wasn’t a trap. Steeling his resolve, Tenewick snuck into the back of the wagon.
He froze, stifling the beginning of a scream. A hulking brute clad in heavy iron armor took up most of the space in the wagon. His eyes wide, he waited for the brute to turn toward him, lift the very heavy-looking axe laying on the bench next to him, and sever Tenewick’s head from his shoulders. He winced in anticipation of the blow, resigning himself to the beyond and cursing his impatience.
The blow never came.
Tenewick opened one eye. The chaos warrior hadn’t moved. He noticed that behind the man was a floor-length mirror of arcane design. The gold filigree around it indicated that it was expensive, and the twinkling sound he had heard earlier seemed to be emanating from it. Wavy light reflected from the surface, causing the interior of the wagon to shimmer as if it were underwater.
Tenewick waved a hand in front of the warrior’s face. The eyes didn’t move or flinch in the shadowy helm. Maybe he was dead?
His greed got the better of him. Tenewick slowly, carefully inched his way around the iron giant, always keeping his eyes on the gauntlets and the sharp blade perched within arm’s reach. The warrior seemed frozen. Finally after agonizing seconds Tenewick got around him and found himself standing in front of the elegant mirror. To his surprise he found that he wasn’t looking at his reflection! Instead he could see the town square of a distant city, people moving about their day and totally oblivious to his window into their world. Curious now more than fearful, he tentatively reached a hand toward the mirror, and found that he could reach right through into the image. A warm breeze and the scent of freshly-baked bread wafted toward Tenewick. A magic mirror!
His goblin senses perked up and he withdrew his hand and spun around. He half expected the chaos warrior to be arched above him, axe in hand to deliver the killing blow. Instead he found that it still hadn’t moved. “MUST be dead,” Tenewick sighed in relief. His mind was reeling with the possibilities of his new-found fortune. He could open a shop, become a legitimate businessman, and finally get the sheriffs off his back. Speedily calculating the dimensions of the wagon and the hulking figure taking up most of it, he hoisted the mirror over his head and clumsily tried to navigate it around the warrior’s massive knees.
He tripped and dropped the mirror onto his head, and it encircled him and clattered onto the floor of the wagon. Suddenly Tenewick was in the town square he’d seen moments earlier. With a shock he realized that the townsfolk had stopped in their tracks and were staring at him from all directions. “Aack!” he cried and saw that he was standing in a puddle whose glowing edges reflected the image of the wizard’s wagon back up at him. He dove into the wavering portal and found himself back in the wagon. He frantically clambered off the mirror and finished dragging it out onto the forest floor. Peering back into the wagon he saw that the chaos warrior was still immobile. “DEFINITELY dead,” he mumbled to himself, attempting to calm his nerves after his momentary panic. He resolved to find himself a blanket or something to cover the mirror, after all, it wouldn’t do to have his new treasure stolen! Before he could climb back into the wagon he felt something hard and smooth beneath the leaves on the forest floor below him. Balancing the mirror next to him, he reached down. It was a black gem, polished and shiny. He couldn’t believe his luck! He pocketed it swiftly, furtively looking around for the wizard who must be dead as well, otherwise he would certainly have been discovered by now. Sucker!
“Now, if I can just find a blanket I’m set for life!” he practically sang, his frightful ordeal almost over.
“HERE YOU GO, MASTER!” bellowed a monstrous voice from inside the wagon. Tenewick couldn’t help himself this time. He screeched at the top of his lungs and soiled himself in terror. A huge iron gauntlet holding a blanket extended itself from the rear of the wagon, followed by the hulking form of the chaos warrior. It leaned out and looked down at Tenewick, and made a gesture as if to hand the blanket to him.
“M… m… master?!” Tenewick squeaked. He looked around frantically for the wizard, who must even now be creeping up from behind him to reclaim his treasures. Trying to watch his back and the iron golem in front of him at the same time must’ve looked quite comical, Tenewick later thought.
“You requested a blanket,” the warrior belted out, tilting his head to the side and staring down at Tenewick. His mind was reeling. How had he gotten the behemoth under his sway? Was this another trick?
He felt a sensation in his pocket and lifted out the gem that he had hidden there. It was warm to the touch, and was glowing faintly in his hand. Tenewick’s mind reeled. He looked up at the warrior, who seemed to have become immobile again, reaching out to Tenewick, blanket in hand.
Moments passed. At this point it was becoming obvious to Tenewick that the two were still alone in the forest. A devilish smile trickled across Tenewick’s pointy face. “Come down here,” he commanded the armored figure.
“As you wish,” said the warrior, and complied, his bulky form moving surprisingly quickly, armor clanging noisily in the clearing.
“Wrap the blanket around the mirror,” said Tenewick. The warrior did so, surprisingly gingerly.
“Where is your master, the wizard who owns this wagon?” asked Tenewick. The armored helm turned back towards Tenewick, and the eyes narrowed to slits in the visor.
“YOU are my master,” rang the baritone voice.
“And don’t you forget it, slave!” cackled Tenewick. He wrung his hands, visions of mercantile glory swimming in his mind. “We make for the nearest town… uh… what do I call you?” he asked the figure.
“Perilen,” came the reply.
“Very well then, Perilen, get your hulking self back in the wagon and take the mirror with you, CAREFULLY!” ordered Tenewick, and with one more furtive glance around the trail, he clambered into the driver’s seat of the wagon and cracked the reins. With a whinny of defiance the ragged mare lurched forward and the wagon rolled ahead, Tenewick singing gaily in the driver’s seat.
