Morning dawns over Elderglen with a soft clarity, the sun casting long shadows across the village as it rises above the looming forest. The air is crisp, carrying a touch of dew and the gentle fragrance of wildflowers that bloom at the edge of the woods. Elara stands outside the Whispering Woods, her breath visible in the cool air, her eyes scanning the awakening village. The group gathers slowly, Thorbek emerging from the tavern with a yawn, his beard reflecting the morning light like spun gold. Pippin appears next, his small form nimble as he descends the steps, a glint of mischief in his eyes despite the serious task ahead. Groth is last, his presence as solid and constant as the earth itself, his expression inscrutable. Elara turns to the group, her voice carrying the quiet bustle of the village coming alive. "Before we head to the mines, we should consider bringing someone familiar with the lower tunnels. It's been years since they were abandoned, but there might be someone who remembers them." Thorbek nods, scratching his beard thoughtfully. "I remember old Harlan, the miner. He used to talk about those tunnels as if they were a second home. If anyone knows their secrets, it's him."
Pippin smiles, his eyes gleaming with the excitement of a new plan. "I know where he usually spends his mornings. Let me speak." Groth remains silent, observing the village with a discerning eye. "If he agrees, he could be the key to finding Joren quickly. We should look for him." The decision made, they follow Pippin's lead through the village. The streets are narrow and winding, lined with quaint houses and bustling with villagers starting their day. The smell of fresh bread wafts from a nearby bakery, mingling with the earthy aroma of the forest. Pippin leads them to a small, sunny square where some villagers gather, exchanging news and goods. There, seated on a worn bench with a pipe in his hand, sits Harlan. His eyes are sharp, and he observes the world with a patient wisdom that comes from years spent underground. "Good morning, Harlan," Pippin calls, his tone friendly. "I have a question for you, if you're willing to lend us your attention and perhaps your experience." Harlan looks up, his eyes crinkled into a smile that softens his weary features. "Well, what brings a bunch like you to an old miner like me?"
"Good morning, Harlan," Pippin calls, his tone friendly. "I have a question for you, if you're willing to lend us your attention and perhaps your experience." Harlan looks up, his eyes crinkled into a smile that softens his weary features. "Well, what brings a bunch like you to an old miner like me?" Elara steps forward, her tone respectful but urgent. "We're heading to the old mines, looking for someone trapped down there. The lower tunnels are a labyrinth, and your guidance would be helpful." Harlan laughs, a sound like gravel rolling over stone. "Yeah, those tunnels are as tricky as they look. I haven't been down there in years, but I'll help. I can't say no to a rescue, can I?" With Harlan's agreement, the group feels a newfound confidence. As they prepare to head into the mines, the sun rises higher, casting a golden light over the village that promises adventure and, hopefully, a successful rescue.