The cure for insomnia (part I) And

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the June breeze blew its usual June summer breeze. Sometimes it blew in the morning, sometimes at noon, sometimes in the evening, and sometimes even at night. It blew across meadows, it blew in gardens, it blew in forests, and when its carefreeness gave way to imagination, it flew through the rooms of village cottages and palace chambers. And it derived so much joy from this blowing that whenever it encountered a leaf, a feather, or even a blade of grass, it immediately snatched it into play. It swayed and twirled it, now left, now right, now up, now down. But eventually it had to break off these dances and continue on, for such was its nature; it must keep blowing and blowing. Sometimes in meadows, sometimes in gardens, and sometimes in the forest.

As the sun, approaching the trees to the west, slowly announced the irrevocable end of another busy day, a June breeze emerged from behind the forest and carelessly swept across the fields and meadows until it reached the road leading along the Glade. Passing the first cottages, he flew along the village, accosting everyone he met along the way. Finally, he stopped by a group of children playing under a wild elderberry bush, as if considering whether to join in. After a moment's hesitation, he continued on, toward the garden behind the inn. He jumped among the apple, cherry, and pear trees, which, in their old fashioned way, greeted him with a rustle of leaves. Then he glanced into the garden again, where carrots, parsley, radishes, chives, and yellow flowers bowed low to him. When he had passed the last patch of radishes, he leaped back into the meadow and, without a backward glance, carelessly sped toward the forest.

The small bell on the tip of Grandpa Omnicius's cap, struck by the wind, tinkled softly and then fell silent, so as not to disturb its owner unnecessarily.

"The wind has moved, the sun is setting. We'll have to get to work when night falls," Grandpa Omnicius said. Meanwhile, before night fell, he leaned back against a clump of dandelions and puffed on his pipe of aromatic tobacco.

And it must be admitted that he was a great tobacco connoisseur. Over his long life, he had smoked tobacco from many parts of the world. Both dark tobacco from the plains to the west, and light tobacco from the mountains to the south, and a very smoky one from the seaside, which was supposedly beyond the plains. He smoked many other tobaccos, but he enjoyed the one he picked and cultivated himself, according to his great-grandfather's recipe, the most.

So he closed his eyes and, savoring the tobacco smoke, enjoyed the last rays of sunshine and the birdsong. He was only roused from his afternoon drowsiness by the rustle of a ladybug's wings flying nearby.

Ladybug, shy by nature and exceptionally busy that day, didn't even stop, didn't shout a greeting, just waved her left hind leg and disappeared into the grass.

"Good morning," Darmir and Jagoda called.

"Welcome, welcome," said Grandpa Omnicius, squinting. He then removed his pipe to smooth his long beard and settled back comfortably.

Like any elf of advanced age, he took exceptional care of his beard. He combed it, trimmed it, and checked every morning whether the tip of his beard reached the decorative belt buckle. It was common knowledge that all well-groomed beards reached the belt buckle on his trousers. Darmir's beard didn't reach the buckle, but Darmir was still a young elf, and his beard couldn't have been that long. He did, however, wear an identical belt, with a beetle-shaped buckle, yellow-brown boots reaching to his knees, a checked shirt, a red vest with side pockets, and a red, pointed cap, bent in the middle, with a bell at the tip. Only his trousers were blue, although Grandpa Omnicius's were green.

"It would be nice to have wings like a ladybug, or a butterfly," Darmir sighed.

"Oh yes," Grandpa Omnicius admitted, and added, opening his eyes. "But why?

" "To fly.

" "Oh yes, to fly," Grandpa Omnicius smiled to himself. "Do you hear what that scoundrel is saying, Jagoda? He'd like to fly."

Jagoda nodded only slightly, as she was busy embroidering a new headscarf and had no intention of joining the conversation. The scarf lying on her lap was almost entirely covered with a picture of a moor. A small bell was attached to one corner of the scarf, identical to the ones on the hats of Darmir, Grandpa Omnicius, and probably many others, perhaps even all the dwarves. The dwarven ladies didn't wear hats, but scarves. They also didn't have beards, of course. They did, however, favor braids. Jagoda had only one braid, but it was very long and even blacker than Grandpa Omnicius's beard. She wore neither pants nor a shirt, of course. She wore a dress she had woven herself from silk threads, spiderweb, and forest moss, on which small daisies bloomed in spring.

"Flying must be a difficult art," Grandpa Omnicius continued. "But you have to admit, it's sometimes useful. You could collect nectar from flowers and help the bees all summer long.

" "No, no! Grandpa..."

"The nectar is very tasty, you could ask Jagoda. You could also collect pollen.

" "No...

" "You could also...

" "I could fly," Darmir finished.

"And..." Grandpa Omnicius asked, looking at him intently.

"That's it. I could fly. Everywhere. Instead of walking, I could fly, like the June wind.

" "Well, well. Interesting," the older elf nodded. "Very interesting. I wonder who will then be braiding horses' manes, lulling children to sleep with lullabies, helping the shoemaker sew shoes, grinding flour in the mill. Very interesting. Because these are, in fact, leprechaun crafts, not flying wherever the wind takes them."

"By flying, I could quickly find a mill, for example," Darmir replied after a moment's thought, and he seemed to like the idea, because he smiled to himself. "And then I could grind flour in it to my heart's content.

" "Really, my dear Darmir, all you have to do is go to the edge of the Glade and there, by the river, you'll find a mill. And you don't need wings for that.

" "This isn't a real mill. I'd like to find a real one, powered by the wind. A windmill." Darmir closed his eyes as he spoke. "A windmill standing on a hill in the middle of the plain. A large one, with enormous wings. This is a real mill. The wings rustle in the wind, the millstones rumble, the grain pours out."

"A windmill, wings, flying. Have you taken a proper sleeping pill lately?"

Dwarves don't usually sleep much, but Darmir hadn't been able to sleep at all lately. When they finished their nightly chores and returned to their corner in the inn's attic, Grandpa Omnicius and Jagoda fell asleep peacefully. Sleep, however, eluded Darmir's bed. The poor man tossed and turned, his eyes refusing to close. And although dwarves can deny themselves sleep for quite a while if necessary, it eventually exhausted Darmir. He began to hunch over, shuffle, and neglect his work. Seeing this, Jagoda decided to prepare a potion for him, so that if necessary, he could take it and fall asleep peacefully. So she ground a magical powder from dried herbs and, after infusing it with a light spell, ordered Darmir to take it at bedtime, as one would take snuff. From then on, whenever Darmir couldn't sleep, he would take a pinch of the potion. Then he sneezed loudly, waking his already sleeping companions, until finally all three of them fell asleep peacefully.

"Of course, the right one," Darmir replied, a little grumpy. "And I don't need wings at all, but it would be nice to have them, Grandpa Omnicius. If you did, you'd see for yourself. "

Grandpa Omnicius wasn't Darmir's real grandfather at all, but a distant cousin of his father, but it was good elf custom to address elders that way.

"For now, since you don't have wings yet, let's walk, for it's high time." Grandpa Omnicius ended the conversation.

"True," added Jagoda. "The children are probably falling asleep by now."

So they set off through the garden toward the inn.

By now, the sun had completely disappeared behind the trees, and shadow covered the Glade from the west to the far end of the forest. People had returned from the fields to their homes, smoke was rising from the chimneys, and the first stars were twinkling timidly in the part of the sky darker than the east. From the river, frogs croaked loudly, and crickets chirped in the grass.

Just when it seemed the day, almost over, could bring nothing new, a rider dressed all in black appeared on the road. He rode through the settlement and stopped in front of an inn. Although it was his first time there, he didn't have to bother to recognize the larger building than the neighboring ones, at the entrance of which stood a portly man dressed in a white shirt.

"Greetings, innkeeper," the rider said in a masculine voice. "Will you have a place to stay and a little something warm?"

"Greetings, noble sir," the innkeeper said slowly. He didn't know if the newcomer was of noble birth, but he believed it was better to add nobility to someone than to capture them, and in the gathering darkness, it was difficult to make out anything from the figure dressed in a long black cloak with a hood. "We invite you to our threshold. May I know who I am hosting?"

The man removed his hood, revealing a long face with sharp, noble features and shoulder-length black hair.

"I am Adiar da Gerve," he replied. "A knight and knight of the noble da Gerve family.

" "Greetings to our home, sir knight." The innkeeper bowed slightly, broadening the smile that was constantly on his face for a moment. "The stable boy will soon attend to your mount; in the meantime, come on in."

Adiar unhitched a large saddlebag and followed the innkeeper inside. The wine aroma wafting through the air immediately explained the reason for the host's slowness and the constant smile. And even though he had only just crossed the threshold, he was certain he liked this place, along with its owner.

The inn's interior was stuffy and clouded with smoke from the fireplace. Adiar sat down at a bench against the wall, and a moment later a bowl of cabbage soup stood before him, and next to it, a platter with a large leg of lamb.

"I think there's a jug of good wine here for this meal," said Adiar.

"Naturally," the innkeeper beamed once more. "Excellent, the best in the whole region. Worthy of a royal chalice, my good sir knight. "

And indeed, the wine turned out to be so good that it was no wonder the innkeeper himself couldn't resist it.

"Come here, innkeeper," said Adiar after a little nibble. "Come closer.

" "I'm listening, noble sir." The innkeeper approached slowly.

"I've come to these parts from a long way off and would like to learn something. Apparently your king is a worthy and noble lord.

" "Oh, very much so," replied the innkeeper. "

Word is circulating on the roads that he's looking for brave knights. I think it's a recruitment drive for the King's Guard. Do you know anything about it?

" "Possibly. I don't know anything about it."

- Is there some war looming over the kingdom?

"It's always possible. I don't know anything.

" "The knights in the Royal Guard are paid well, aren't they?

" "Probably. Perhaps, but I know nothing about such matters."

Adiar thought he would gladly cut out his tongue if this constantly smiling, self-satisfied individual with the dull eyes didn't arouse some unwarranted sympathy in him.

"It seems to me that for an innkeeper near the King's Road, you know very little. So let it be known that if you have nothing to say, you have no need of your tongue. And although I rarely get angry, I will cut it off right away and nail it to the front door."

His state of guilty intoxication didn't allow the innkeeper to frighten him. He only opened his eyes a little wider, shrugged, and said,

"You hear all sorts of rumors on the roads. But how can you know which ones are true?

" "So is the king looking for knights or not?" Adiar asked again.

"They say he's searching.

" "That's good. Knights in the king's service aren't starving, are they?

" "Ha, probably," the innkeeper agreed quickly.

"Do many knights travel this way to the castle?

" "None in recent weeks.

" "None?" Adiar repeated in surprise. "And why?

" "I don't know anything about it," the innkeeper replied, but so as not to upset his guest, he decided to quickly add something. "The king wants to marry off his only daughter."

Adiar took a sip of wine, wondering what the connection was between these two matters.

"How many springs does the princess have?" he asked.

"She'll be twenty and one in the autumn.

" "And she hasn't been married yet?" Adiar said in surprise. "I see, the young lady is clearly not of the first beauty?

" "Not necessarily." The innkeeper glanced around, and the smile on his face was replaced by a thoughtful expression. "Some say...

" "Probably rough in manners, too?" Adiar finished.

"Ha, who knows?" One only hears sometimes that...

"Perhaps a little spoiled too?"

This time the host merely shrugged and smiled again.

"So, my good lord, princesses don't have to be beautiful at all. They need prudence more than beauty. And if the king chooses the right candidate for a husband, the girl will eventually gain refinement and humility. But enough about the king and the princess. How far is it from here to the castle?

" "It'll be a three-day journey eastward, two with a good steed.

" "So I'll set off at dawn. You'll probably still find some dried meat in your supplies?"

The dwarves sitting in the corner of the room listened with interest to the entire conversation. Jagoda, who had already managed to sing the children all the lullabies that should be sung at this time of year to ward off bad dreams, was also listening.

"So he plans to join the royal guard, and perhaps even seek the princess's hand?" asked Grandpa Omnicius, though it sounded more like a statement. "He's going to the royal city. He's clearly a man of very noble birth, since he's seeking such honors.

" "Don't you think, Grandpa," said Darmir, "that he's a strange knight?

" "Why strange? A knight is a knight.

" "But he can't be a true knight," continued Darmir. "A true knight has heavy armor, a lance, and a shield. And this one is in a black cloak with a hood.

" "But he has a sword at his belt," observed Grandpa Omnicius.

"But not only knights carry swords," Darmir insisted.

"But not all knights who used to visit the inn wore armor," noted Jagoda.

Grandpa Omnicius thought for a moment, narrowed his eyes, and scratched his beard.

"True," he said finally. "But it's also true that there's something disturbing about this man. He's carrying some kind of bag. If we knew what was in it, we could more easily determine whether this knight is real."

"Oh, but how can we do that?"

When Darmir asked this question, Grandfather Omnicius already knew how to proceed.

"We must get into that bag while our guest is still sitting at his meal and examine his belongings a bit.

" "Oh, my lord," Jagoda said abruptly, glaring at Grandfather Omnicius. "Is it proper to secretly snoop through other people's belongings like that? Is it proper to suspect such a weary traveler of evil intentions?

" "But Jagoda, surely Darmir will only look there to find out if this noble lord is up to anything evil."

Here Darmir opened his eyes wider and almost shouted at Grandfather Omnicius:

"Me? Me? Should I get into that dark bag?" Why have you chosen me for this particular expedition?

"Because," Grandpa Omnicius spoke slowly, as if explaining to a small child why one shouldn't frighten butterflies, "I'm too old for such walks, and Jagoda disagrees.

" "But I... maybe there's nothing in that bag after all."

Darmir was clearly not pleased with Grandpa Omnicius's plan, although he would have liked to know what was in the traveler's bag.

"But Darmirek," Grandpa Omnicius argued, "you yourself said that this gentleman is a strange knight. You'll just jump into the bag in two bounds. You'll look to see if there's anything strange in there, and then you'll come rushing back to us.

" "And even if something strange happens," Jagoda interjected again, "what are you planning, gentlemen?

" "What's the point of telling us about your plans when we don't know what's in there yet," Grandpa Omnicius replied. - In the meantime, hurry up, boy, because the bowl will soon be empty and our guest will go to his room.

A slightly sulky Yagoda said nothing more, while Darmir stood for a moment longer, grappling with curiosity and fear, until he finally said,

"Whatever happens, let it happen. I'm going."

And he rushed toward the bag lying under the bench.

Adiar had almost finished his supper. He gnawed on the remains of the lamb and washed them down with wine.

"Innkeeper," he finally called.

"I'm listening," the innkeeper said, walking toward him.

"I'd like to retire. And since I'll be setting off early tomorrow, tell me how much your hospitality is worth.

" "Seventeen copper groschen, good sir knight," the innkeeper recited with a coaxing smile.

However, there was no matching smile on Adiar's face. He frowned, setting down the jug from which he had just sipped wine.

"Seventeen?" he asked loudly.

"Six for the night and three for the noble lord's food." Six for the stables and food for the mount. And two for the dried meat.

"Six for the stables?" Adiar narrowed his eyes and gave the innkeeper a look of dislike. "Did you also feed my steed roast lamb? Or did you perhaps sprinkle the oats with gold for flavor?"

The innkeeper, still smiling, replied,

"Your knightly majesty, we have the best of everything for noble knights."

"Extortionist," Adiar said under his breath, tossing copper coins onto the bench. "Lead the way."

Adiar's bag looked like a rather large leather sack, fastened at the end with a strap. Darmir had to struggle a bit to loosen the strap and get inside. Fortunately, getting out was no longer a problem, and just before the newcomer retired for the night, the elf jumped out and hid behind the bench leg.

"So, did he see anything there? Was there anything there?" Grandpa Omnicius asked the rapidly breathing Darmir.

"Just junk at first. Some rags, a sword-sharpening stone, and some rolled parchment." Darmir's breathing became calmer with each word. "But almost at the bottom, there was a smaller leather bag. A large purse. And in it, Grandpa"—he paused, looking alternately at Grandpa Omnicius and Jagoda—"about three hundred gold coins.

" "Three hundred gold coins." Grandpa Omnicius opened his eyes wide and looked at Jagoda. "Do you hear that? Three hundred gold coins.

" "And what does that prove, my dear sir?" Jagoda asked. "Is it a crime to carry gold coins in a purse?"

"Hmm. I don't know yet, Jagoda, what it proves, but maybe we can find a way to find out."

"Oh no," Jagoda protested fiercely, making that menacing face that even Grandpa Omnicius feared. "What kind of ideas are these, my dear sir? Night is already here, people are asleep, and it's time to get to work, not chase someone else's gold."

Both Darmir and Grandpa Omnicius understood that there was no point in arguing with Jagoda. The truth was that elves rarely interfered in human affairs, and perhaps only when it came to matters of great importance. Meanwhile, the knight Adiar was probably sleeping peacefully in his room, and their other duties awaited. The guest room at the inn was spacious, and tidying it up after a long day always took some time. And, as everyone knew, summer nights were short, so the elves had to hurry to get this done.

Although the innkeeper found a moment in the evening, when the guests were almost gone, to sweep the floor and wipe the benches between jugs of wine, there were always some bread crumbs and scraps of other food left behind. So the elves busied themselves gathering them, ensuring none went to waste. Once everything was neatly gathered, they carried them to the burrow of the mouse lady, who lived nearby. Sometimes Mr. Mole would also show up, eager to partake of the refreshments. And if, from time to time, another unexpected guest showed up, there was something for him too.

After finishing her work in the room, Jagoda would return for a while to see the innkeeper's children. In winter, Grandpa Omnicius and Darmir would go there with her, and in summer they would go out into the garden to check if anyone was snacking on the carrots or radishes in the flowerbeds. Sometimes, when more travelers, merchants, and noblemen were at the inn, they would visit the stables to calm the horses resting there. Finally, all three of them would sit down again at the edge of the garden and talk about various matters, important and less important.

When the room was finally tidied up, the children dreamed of sweet cottage cheese with strawberries, and Mrs. Mouse and her family would happily snack on bread crumbs. The gnomes were already in the garden. Grandfather Omnicius filled his pipe and, every now and then smoothing his beard, blew gray smoke rings. Darmir leaned back and gazed at the cloudless sky, wondering if, with wings, he could fly to the moon. Jagoda, humming a lullaby, nibbled nectar from a flower growing nearby.

Finally, the trio's thoughts turned to the guest staying overnight at the inn and the three hundred gold coins in his package. Grandfather Omnicius spoke first. He took the pipe from his mouth, scratched his beard, sighed, and spoke:

"It seems strange to me that a man would carry such a fortune along the roads. Without a carriage, without an army. Alone in the forest, he's asking for some misfortune.

" "Perhaps he found some treasure?" Jagoda guessed. "He set out alone, stopped for the night in a cave, and there he stumbled upon gold."

"Perhaps he captured it in battle?" Darmir raised himself slightly and propped himself up on his elbows as he spoke these words. "Perhaps he fought a great battle and captured the gold from the enemy."

"Perhaps," Grandfather Omnicius continued scratching his beard. "Maybe he found it, maybe he won it. Or maybe he stole it. We must remember that this man wants to compete for the princess's hand. And yet, it's not proper for some scoundrel to receive such honors.

" "It's also not proper to call someone a scoundrel without justification," said Jagoda, and immediately regretted it, understanding the trap Grandfather Omnicius had caught her in.

"You speak wisely, woman. For the sake of clarity and the good of the kingdom, we'll go to the stables and take a look at the rest of his belongings. Perhaps something will tell us who this knight is and what his true intentions are."

With that, Grandfather Omnicius put his pipe back in his mouth and blew two smoke rings.

Jagoda pouted again, as she didn't like such ideas. She thought, however, that the matter would be resolved more quickly if Grandpa Omnicius and Darmir satisfied their curiosity. So instead of arguing, she simply said,

"Fine, go snoop around the stable like rodents in a pantry. I don't intend to join you. I'm going back to the attic. Just hurry, it'll be dawn soon.

" "Of course, Berry. We'll just take a look," Grandpa Omnicius replied with a smile. "Sleep tight."

As they set off toward the stable, Darmir felt a fire ignite within him. Adventures weren't unheard of in the lives of elves, but they were rather rare. And since he was a relatively young elf, he hadn't actually experienced a real adventure yet. Although a visit to the stable couldn't compare to a real adventure, this time was something special for him. So he marched briskly at Grandpa Omnicius's side.

"What do you think we'll find there, Grandpa?" he asked finally.

Grandfather Omnicius was just opening his mouth to reply when the bells on the dwarves' hats suddenly jingled violently, and a dark shape emerged from around the corner of the inn. They both jumped, startled by the strange night apparition that had disturbed even the magical bells, but Darmir fell so miserably that he stepped on Grandfather Omnicius's shoe. The older dwarf was about to duck behind a nearby bush, but the impact caused him to stagger, wave his arms, and fall to the ground. As he clung to Darmir's vest, seeking safety, the younger dwarf fell straight at him.

Before they could rise, the bells had stopped, and the apparition had approached close enough for them to recognize the fluffy, tabby cat that often wandered near the inn, searching for something tasty to eat.

The dwarves could easily move silently and quietly. They could do this so skillfully that they were invisible not only to humans but also to other animals. They could march through a mouse or hare's hole without causing any alarm. Only cats were not fooled. Even if they didn't see a dwarf, they could always smell him. Fortunately for all the dwarves, they never confused them with mice. So if a cat happened to encounter a dwarf, it would only sniff him and go on its way.

This cat did the same. He stopped for a moment near the dwarves and then set off into the night, busy with his cat business.

"Get off me," shouted Grandpa Omnicius. "What are you so scared of? The nasty little cat.

" "I'll braid his white whiskers someday," added Darmir. "That's how you scare honest dwarves at night."

Grandfather Omnicius whispered something more under his breath, and without further disturbance, they reached the stables.

It was a wooden building. Long and not very high. Inside, there was enough room for twenty mounts. But that night, only one stall was occupied, and in it stood the steed Adiara, a powerful, well-built, and all-black horse. Only a single white spot on his neck, on the right side. He was dozing peacefully, tied to a pole. On another pole, forming a sort of side wall of the stall, was a saddle.

"Oh, there it is," said Darmir as they stood beneath him.

"A saddle is a saddle," Grandfather Omnicius assessed. "Ordinary. It's neither studded with precious stones nor sewn with gold thread."

They stood there, heads tilted upward, gazing at the saddle, which, in truth, looked nothing like the saddle of a wealthy knight. It looked more like the saddle of a traveler who had traveled many roads and seen many lands. It was made of thick leather, already wrinkled, worn, and frayed. Two bags were sewn onto the sides, each closed at the top with a strap and a metal buckle.

"We should see what you can find in those bags," said Grandpa Omnicius. "The best thing would be for you to climb up that pole, open it, and see what's inside."

Darmir frowned, even though he'd expected such a task to fall to him.

"What are you looking at," added Grandpa Omnicius. "Do you want me to scramble up there? I'm not lacking in agility, but you'll go faster. Hurry, time's running out."

Darmir climbed up the pole supporting the roof and jumped onto the pole. It was thick enough that he could easily run across it to the saddle. Then he slid down onto the flap of the bag and began opening it. As it turned out, it wasn't that easy, but finally, huffing and puffing, he slid the belt out of its buckle.

"Well, how much longer are you going to linger there?" Grandpa Omnicius urged him.

"Yes, yes," replied Darmir, and dived into the open pocket. Only a rustling sound could be heard from it, and after a moment a cap emerged, followed by the head of a young elf.

"So what?" asked Grandpa Omnicius.

"Nothing interesting, I'll check the other one," replied Darmir.

However, it turned out that there was nothing interesting in the other pocket either. A horse brush, some rags, and other trinkets, perhaps necessary for travel, but nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that would help identify who Adiar da Gerve really was or what his intentions were.

"Interesting, interesting," Grandpa Omnicius repeated, standing in the straw on the threshing floor. "Very interesting.

" "But there's nothing interesting here, Grandpa," interjected Darmir, who had meanwhile jumped onto the dozing mount. Seeing such a black, shiny mane, he couldn't resist plaiting it. He sat astride the horse's neck and, sliding down, slowly threaded through the strands. "Some junk, no treasure, no secret, sealed papers. There's nothing here.

" "And that's what's interesting," continued Grandpa Omnicius, scratching his beard. "If he were dressed in precious robes, rode with servants, had a rich saddle, then the treasure wouldn't be anything extraordinary. You can tell from his face that he's a man of noble descent, but apart from his sword and mount, he possesses no knightly attributes. His belongings are old and worn.

" "So what does that mean?" asked Darmir. "It's probably normal for a knight to travel extensively.

" "True, but it's also true that they don't usually carry such treasures with them.

" "What can we do then?

" "Return to the attic.

" "How so?" Darmir asked, surprised.

"We won't question him," explained Grandpa Omnicius. "He's a strange person, but we don't know of any wrongdoing. If he has anything on his conscience, we can only hope that everything will be revealed in the king's presence."

Darmir felt a great disappointment upon hearing these words. He, too, couldn't imagine what else they could do regarding the mysterious knight. What had promised to be a great adventure ended as unexpectedly as it had begun. And the saddest thing for him was that instead of discovering great secrets, another sleepless night awaited him. The fire that had been so eagerly lit just a moment ago had faded again.

And it probably would have gone out completely if not for the bells on the dwarves' hats, which jingled again in warning. Both Grandfather Omnicius, standing on the dirt floor, and Darmir, who was just sliding down his horse's back onto the saddle perch, froze, watching for danger. In the semidarkness of the stable, previously illuminated only by the moonlight, appeared the flickering light of a lamp held by a figure standing in the doorway. The shadows quivering across his face added to the menace, and the red glow gave the impression that it was not a human being but some kind of demon. From his long hair and black cloak, the dwarves immediately recognized it as Adiar. Grandfather Omnicius scuttled into a pile of straw, while Darmir, who had already dismounted, took advantage of the nearest shelter: one of the side bags.

Adiar hung the lamp on a pole and approached the horse.

"Time to go," he said, half to himself, half to his mount.

The horse responded with a quiet snort.

"I know it's early, but it'll be dawn soon, and the road ahead is long. Soon you'll be resting on the royal meadows."

Adiar smiled and patted the animal's back.

"What kind of customs are these?" he wondered, noticing the braided mane around the horse's neck. "Did you braid your hair? You must have been very bored last night."

He stood there for a moment longer, wondering if it was the stable boy who had shown such imagination, then turned and grabbed the saddle hanging from the pole. When he threw it over the horse's back, Darmir's heart pounded so violently that it seemed it wanted to jump out. But the next moment it stopped completely, and the bag was completely dark. It was Adiar, seeing the open side bags, who fastened them with the straps. Oh, poor me, thought Darmir, how will I get out of here now?

Grandpa Omnicius's heart sank as well as he watched Adiar lead his mount away, along with Darmir imprisoned in his bag. Oh, poor me, he thought, how will this scoundrel get out now?

There was no time to waste. Adiar tied his bag to the back of the saddle and sat on his horse, ready to depart.

Grandpa Omnicius stood frozen, watching the departing knight, but a moment later he had a plan of action ready. He ran quickly into the yard, where he encountered the tabby cat again.

"Come here, you mustachioed scoundrel."

The cat only twitched its whiskers and glanced at the elf. Grandpa Omnicius ran up to him and shouted in his ear,

"Now you will go to the attic and tell Jagoda that Darmir has been imprisoned, that I'm rushing to free him, and that I'll return quickly. Do you understand?"

The cat twitched his whiskers again, which seemed to indicate he understood. He rose slowly and padded toward the inn. Grandfather Omnicius was already running into the forest.

The clatter of the black steed's hooves faded in the morning mist.