Ralph and the Pixie

His features set as they mounted, the Elf replied, ‘Ralph might make perhaps a dozen such arrowheads per day. A fully equipped army would require several thousand, and a steady supply of replacements. Swords . . . I would surmise that Ralph might be able to create one or two per day. Armour, perhaps a week for one man’s entire outfit. Shields . . . perhaps one or two per day. Then there are spearheads-’

‘I get the picture,’ Doc said, now understanding the Elf’s crushed elation. ‘You were hoping that it would be a simple matter of Ralph’s showing the blacksmith back there what he’d done.’

Pran sighed. ‘I wish I could make you understand how important this could have been, especially at this juncture in time. Many lives might have been saved, and an escalation of the atrocities curbed.’ He smiled without humour. ‘There is no harm done, though. At the least, the two of you have seen a bit of our fair countryside.’

But as they neared the forest, and the bridge came into sight, they saw that several riders were waiting there. From this distance, Doc and Ralph could not tell whether or not they were soldiers. There was, however, no doubt in Pran’s mind. Nor was there any doubt in his mind what they were about.