“Someday I would hear the sad story of how one of the great souls of the First Age was brought so low,” Thunk remarked. It seemed from his aura and from the tone of his voice that he was not merely bandying words but sincerely disappointed to see one such as Adam reduced to so mean an estate.

Having grown used to the cleverly calculated speech that issued at all times from the lips of Feller, Adam was struck hard by the words of Thunk precisely because they were so plainly spoken. His head swam for a moment with shame and he was obliged to shift his footing in order to stay well rooted on the uneven ground.

“Adam is smarter than he looks,” retorted Feller, “and will not be swayed by your poisoned words.” And he looked briefly Adam’s way, as if unsure of this.

Adam was now thoroughly confused, as it had never before entered his mind that his appearance was such as to convey the impression that he was dim-witted; and moreover Thunk’s words had struck him as anything but poisoned, and so he was now wondering whether he, Adam, was not smart enough—whatever that might mean—clearly to perceive Thunk’s true nature.

With so much clouding his mind, Adam scarcely heard the next part of the conversation. But he was vaguely aware of Feller proclaiming that only he, Feller, had the “right” to cut trees here and of Thunk denying that this was so and asserting that the Old Gods had put trees in such places just so that any souls who had need of them could come and chop them down.

What finally dislodged Adam from this reverie was the sound of sudden movement in the trees behind him. He turned around just in time to see an axe flying through the air in his direction, its handle spinning wildly around its bright head. It made a thrum in the air as it whipped past him, and traveled several more yards before clattering off a tree stump near Feller and falling to the ground. Both Feller and Thunk watched it fall, and there were a few moments of silence.

Then Feller and Bluff both came for Thunk.

At first Adam thought Thunk in a bad spot, since he was standing with his back to a felled tree that was still being held up off the ground by its boughs, so that its trunk was at the level of Thunk’s waist. But Thunk knew just where it was and leapt to the top of it with ease. “It’s on!” he shouted, then jumped down to the ground on the other side and ran toward the edge of the clearing, moving away from the river as if meaning to retreat into the deep woods.