This part made me smile to write. X)

In Which There is an Epiloge

The sun was low and red as a little old man shuffled unassumingly along the dusty road. His back was hunched and his face was all wrinkles, but his eyes glinted and his smile was wide. His old clothes and limbs were all hung with ribbons of sundry colors and types, and his hands were full of treats, both of them from the wedding he'd just left.

The bride had been a sweet little thing; bit of an odd streak. The wedding it self had been large and colorful and with the same flavor of odd to match the bride. Its not often that any number of exotic animals are listed as honored guests, but the bride had insisted that they had once been human nobles. The old man chewed thoughtfully on a sugared something. He had been quite certain that all the animals in attendance had never been anything more than animals, no matter how tame they seemed. He smiled and shrugged. The groom had looked as happy as a man could be, and the old man was a sucker for happy endings.

He finished off his handful, still shuffling along at the same steady pace. Tiny dust clouds chased his feet and the stars started to blink open their sleepy little eyes. The old man was a wanderer, it had always suited him well. He got to see the world and fill the years, but it seemed no matter how old he got people never changed. He smiled as he shuffled up to another wanderer, but this one was a young man seated before a small fire. A young man with fire in his heart and a destiny in mind. People never changed.

"Hello, my boy," the old man smiled wide enough to lose his eyes amid the wrinkles.

The young man startled up, caught unawares. Quickly he bowed in respect, "H-hello sir, pardon me for not noticing you sooner."

The old man cackled and shook himself before settling down to warm his old limbs by the young man's fire.

The young man nodded absently and shrugged, settling back down.

"Don't suppose you've got any food on you?" the old man asked unabashedly.

"Oh- oh, yes." The young man sifted about his bag and produced a roll and cheese for the old man's reaching hands.

"Mighty kind of you," the old man nodded and in a blink the food was gone and the old man patted his round stomach in content.

"What brings you here?" the young man asked after a while.

The old man waved an arm absently, sending the ribbons flying. "Collecting," he said grandly.

The young man nodded and responded in turn, "Collecting what?"

"Why, stories!" the old man declared. "Don't see much use in collecting anything else!" He smiled kindly, "And you look like you have a story to tell yourself, my boy."

The boy sighed, but the fire was alight in his eyes again, and it warmed the old man to his bones. "Well, I suppose I do-," he turned to the old man. "I'm Khalab," he offered a hand, suddenly remembering to introduce himself.

"Good to meet you, Khalab," the old man shook his hand with a strength that surprised the boy.

"And you?" he asked.

The old man smiled, a smile that told a hundred stories in itself. "Ah, I've been known as a number of things," he chuckled. "I believe I've become rather attached to a name as of recent though. You, my boy, may call me Lawrence."

Now see, this story leaves me with a happy feeling as I finish it. I've always liked this story more than TLC. It's simple and sweet and never asked anything more from me than a few spare hours. Ah well, on to the next thing!