Quest for The Aelûna

In the village of Dalefern, where the most exciting event of the year was when old Bertram’s sheep escaped and ran through the town, there was one person who believed his destiny lay beyond the quiet valley. That person was Eryn, a dreamer, a daydreamer, and sometimes just a plain sleeper—especially when there was work to be done.

Eryn had long been obsessed with the ancient legend of the Aelûna, a Dwarven stone said to be buried deep beneath the Dusty Mountains, glowing with the light of the first stars. While others in Dalefern were content with farming, fishing, and occasionally discussing the weather, Eryn had his head stuck in the ancient tomes that nobody else bothered reading.

“He’s got stars in his eyes,” the villagers would say, shaking their heads as Eryn walked past, always mumbling something about “Dwarves” and “hidden treasures” while staring off into space.

One chilly autumn morning, after having successfully dodged several hours of farmwork, Eryn decided it was time. Time to find the Aelûna, prove everyone wrong, and return as a hero! He imagined songs being written about him, statues erected in his honour, and maybe—just maybe—free drinks at the local tavern.

He packed his bag, which consisted of a loaf of bread (half of which he’d already eaten), a slightly cracked lantern, and a sturdy but questionable map he’d sketched based on vague descriptions from a passing Dwarf he’d met years ago. He grabbed his old wooden walking stick, which, to be fair, looked like it would give up halfway through the journey, and set off into the Dusty Mountains.

After two hours of climbing (during which Eryn regretted not preparing for the journey by doing, well, anything involving exercise), he reached the entrance of the cave mentioned in the tales. It was smaller than he expected, and there was a sign nailed beside it that read, in shaky handwriting: “Definitely NOT the entrance to a Dwarven treasure. Turn around.”

Eryn blinked at it. “Seems legit,” he muttered to himself, ducking inside the cave.

The first few minutes went smoothly, aside from bumping his head on a low-hanging stalactite and narrowly avoiding stepping into a deep puddle. But after a while, the tunnel began to twist in ways that made no sense, until, eventually, he stumbled into a large cavern, the very heart of the mountain.

Fumbling his way forward, he stubbed his toe on something solid. “Ow! Who puts a rock in the middle of a—” But then his fingers brushed across something smooth and cold. The stone!

Eryn quickly grabbed the object, lifting it high in triumph. “The Aelûna!” he declared to no one in particular. But instead of the soft, star-like glow he expected, the stone gave off nothing more than a dull flicker.

Confused, Eryn squinted at the stone. He was sure this was it. Then he turned it over, revealing a tiny engraving: Made in Dalefern. Premium Lantern Co.

“What on Little-Earth…” Eryn groaned, dropping the lantern battery replacement stone he’d mistaken for the legendary relic.

Just as he was about to collapse in despair, there was a rustling sound from the far side of the cavern. Eryn froze. The sound grew louder, like something very large—or possibly very annoyed—was heading his way.

“Who dares enter my domain?” boomed a voice that echoed off the walls. It was deep, gravelly, and sounded suspiciously like it needed a cough drop. Out of the shadows appeared the unmistakable outline of a Dwarf. A very grumpy-looking Dwarf.

“I—I’m Eryn, from Dalefern,” he stammered, suddenly feeling very out of his depth. “I’m, uh, looking for the Aelûna. You know, the famous Dwarven treasure?”

The Dwarf rubbed his temples. “The Aelûna?” he repeated, exasperated. “That old tale again? Listen, kid, there’s no treasure here. We sold that glowing stone to some Elves years ago. They loved the shiny stuff. Good business, too. They gave us a wagonload of lembas in exchange.”

Eryn blinked. “So… there’s no legendary treasure?”

“Nope. Just a big, empty cave. And that,” the Dwarf said, pointing to the stone Eryn had dropped, “is a piece of old mining equipment. The only glowing thing in here is my impatience.”

Defeated, Eryn sat down with a sigh. “I’ve come all this way for nothing…”

The Dwarf shrugged. “Happens more often than you’d think. Honestly, we should put up a proper sign, but every time we do, someone insists on calling it a ‘quest’ and coming back with more questions. It’s exhausting.”

Eryn rubbed his face. “So, no legendary riches, no statues of me in Dalefern…”

The Dwarf chuckled. “Tell you what, lad. You’re not the first to come hunting for treasure and leave empty-handed. But how about this? I’ll give you something truly rare.”

Eryn’s eyes lit up. “What is it?”

The Dwarf smiled slyly and held out a small, glistening stone. “It’s called a ‘souvenir.’ Take it, tell your village it’s priceless, and make sure they buy you at least one round of drinks for your trouble.”

Eryn stared at the shiny pebble. It wasn’t the Aelûna, but it sparkled enough to fool the folks back home. And, really, what was a hero without a little embellishment?

With a grin, Eryn pocketed the stone, thanked the Dwarf, and began his trek back to Dalefern—ready to tell the grandest tale of his “great adventure” and hoping it was enough to get a free drink… or two.