A decision

There comes a time in the lives of mortals when a decision is made. Sometimes, it is a decision about a loved one. Who do you choose? Why would you choose them? Other times, it is a decision about education. Should I become a magician? Take up the noble art of thievery? Often, for those who have been hurt, it is a decision so filled with meaning and yet so simple to make. A young halfling, his life filled with the simple pleasures of his kind, found such a decision when a life was stolen. The person, his mother, was not killed. She was taken away, enslaved by minotaurs, to a city far to the east. At first, his simple ways made his mission simple. He went to the city, Darkhaven, to purchase the life of his mother. He thought to himself, that such a thing was obvious, if you only used simple deduction. She was taken from her home, because of her value. So, he would pay to have her returned. Such is the reasoning, of a hobbit. Upon his arrival, he requested politely how much it would take to free his mother. The slave keeper, a human of dark countenance, smiled a friendly smile and told him the price. An absurd amount, but well worth it to the young halfling who had come from a prosperous family. He presented the bill of credit. The dark man, he took the slip and ushered him to the back, where he found his mother. She was clad in rough clothes and looked to have been recently beaten. Filstaf, our young hobbit, was upset but kept such things to himself. He knew, he could not survive here. He lived upon another mortals graces. As he reached out to her, she shied away at first. Then, looking up, she began to disrobe. No! He cried. Mother! It is, I. I have come to take you away from this place. Shocked at his mother's behavior, he ran to her, to stop her. His hands upon hers, she looked up with a vacant expression and said, I am a good little halfling. I wish nothing more than to please my masters. Filstaf was enraged. He turned to the slave master, who bore a cruel smile. You see, little halfling, he said, she is mine now. The beating Filstaf endured, was so bad he barely survived. He awoke on his back, near the edge of an ocean. An elfling sat next to him, his face covered in strange markings. He said to Filstaf, you did not find what you sought? Filstaf shook his head. The elf nodded in a knowing way. You will not find it at that city. Your mother, she is broken in her mind. Filstaf wailed, crying against the things done to his mother. The elf rested his hand upon Filstaf's shoulder. Will you seek out those who have done this ill thing again? Filstaf stood there, fear clenching his stomach. He nodded. He would, how could he not? The elf once more nodded. Will you attempt to purchase her life again? Filstaf hesitated. The elf smiled. Good, he said, you learned a lesson. Know this, your mother's soul is safe. But she will never be the same. Seek you the Lion upon the Hill, in the great western city of Valour. You will find the way forward. So saying, he walked away, without another word. Filstaf had a decision to make.