Morceau d'échecs

EXT. FOREST - NIGHT

An EAGLE EYE VIEW of a forest most withered and foul. A

hideous castle brews next to it, flames roaring and belching
amongst its spires and parapets.

Though hardly noticeable, sprinkles of light are defiantly

perfused through the eastern side of the forest outskirts.

EXT. FOREST CLEARING - NIGHT

Jubilance exudes from a greenish glade. A FEAST is in

progress. Around a fire, where tender meat is roasted, sits a
band of not too diverse creatures: MAN, ELVES, DWARVES and
PIXIES.

They differ mostly in size and ear-angles, certainly not in

their merriment. Their laughter is an infectious one.

Giant oaks surround the feast, dwarfing all.

A young woman sits in their midst, smiling. She is PRINCESS

OPHELIE. A princess clearly, as her flailing white garments
and long dark hair can attest to. Her hair is so striking, so
immaculate, it mocks the very soil above which it sways.

TWO DWARVES are in charge of the food and wine, cutting up

loafs, turning the spit and pouring droplets of wine into
everyone’s wooden cups. They also hand out berries and nuts
to those who are not of the carnivorous kind.

The THIRD DWARF, FERKNALLEN, an elderly, thick bearded one,

just sits and drinks while contemplatively staring into the
bonfire.

Flute and violin are played in rapture by the TWO ELVES.

The QUARTET OF PIXIES, fist-sized as they are, mostly fly

around various lanterns, buzzing with a breezy glow while
providing chanting of an etherial kind. Sometimes, one of
them leaves formation for talk and drinks.

The princess holds out her cup for more wine while giddily
laughing at the small, furry animals who dart in and out of
the forest darkness, seeking sustenance from the most
smallest of morsels.

As PHAVIN - one of three humans in attendance - gazes at the

princess, watching her passing the boundary of sobriety, his
squire, FERNLEY, nibbles away at his remaining chunk of
roast.
 2.

PHAVIN
A shame she is not as chaste as she
once was...

Fernley gives the princess a quick glance.

FERNLEY
She is still quite fair.

PHAVIN
Aye, Fernley. Denying that is like
swimming whilst being chained to
the bottom of a river.

Fernley licks off his bones and chucks them into the fire.
Their impact into the ashes make embers drift upward,
singeing one of the dwarves’ beard.

FERNLEY
My liege... When is my next portion
due?

PHAVIN
Wait your turn, squire. Are your
manners that absent?

FERNLEY
Many apologies drift toward you, my
liege. But... our last decent meal
was two full and wayworn moons ago.

PHAVIN
So, it was appetite that had vexed
your tongue then?

FERNLEY
Perchance ‘jinxed’ is a more --

PHAVIN
Here.

Phavin hands over his piece of roast to Fernley, who

smilingly grabs it and gobbles it up with glee.

PHAVIN
Letting the glutton in you run
amok, Fernley?

The elderly dwarf, Ferknallen, stands up.

FERKNALLEN
Time for a game.
 3.

Although small of stature, his presence is revered, for when

he speaks (strangely accented his voice may be), music
instantly dies down and chatter evaporates.

FERKNALLEN (CONT’D)
Honorable Phavin, have you brought
it?

Phavin grabs his satchel.

PHAVIN
Oh, but indeed I brought it, wee
but noble Ferknallen.

After rummaging through the satchel, Phavin pulls out a

magnificently crafted, wooden CHESSBOARD. Its waxed exterior
dazzles in the campfire’s light. The board is accompanied by
a leather pouch.

OPHELIE
Chess! How elegant of you, Phavin.

PHAVIN
I hope it’s to your liking.

Phavin gives the board and pouch to Fernley, who tentatively

stands up, then walks toward the tiny Ferknallen.

PHAVIN
A birthday without a game that
matches your wits, is a birthday
not made complete.

OPHELIE
Do not flatter me so.

PHAVIN
Flattering is a feeble
comprehension compared to your
beauty, princess.

She tries to hide her blushing by downing more wine. Fernley

can only roll his eyes, disastrously hands over the board and
pouch to Ferknallen.

Fine crafted CHESS PIECES tumble out of the pouch.

FERKNALLEN
You fool!

FERNLEY
I-I am so sorry --
 4.

FERKNALLEN
Out of sinew-marble these are
carved! Better not you have tainted
them by your snickering
incompetence.

PHAVIN
Fear not, Ferknallen. Those pieces
have been through eons of history.

FERKNALLEN
(admiring them)
Such artistry...

PHAVIN
Nothing can destroy them. A
crumbling mountain leaves them
unscathed. Fire from a dragons
nostril leaves them cold. Certainly
a clumsy squire, who meant not a
foul or harm, can drop them to no
avail...

Ferknallen sets up the chessboard while carefully inspecting

each piece.

FERKNALLEN
Don’t be too sure of that, Phavin,
for the biggest nincompoop can
freeze hell over, to only thaw it
out seconds later, unleashing
misruling chains of events.
(to Fernley)
You unbeknownst dolt!!!

Fernley walks away, stooped-over in shame. He sits down out

of the firelight, as far away from everyone as possible.

FERKNALLEN
We are missing pieces here, lads.

PHAVIN
How odd...

Phavin goes through his satchel again, but doesn’t find the
missing pieces.

PHAVIN
Trampled cakes and hissless snakes!

FERKNALLEN
Well?
 5.

PHAVIN
I could have sworn that the set was
complete...

FERKNALLEN
I suppose it matters not.
(holds up a cork)
We shall improvise.

Ferknallen places the cork on the chessboard, clearly

creating a smudge of wine on it. Phavin winces, but notices
what the elderly dwarf is trying to do.

FERKNALLEN
A white queen...

OPHELIE
Which resembles me only by being
soaked with wine.

Ferknallen ignores the drunken princess, picks up a greasy

chicken bone, lays it down on a black space.

FERKNALLEN
A black knight...

OPHELIE
Who will not stand upright.

Phavin shakes his head at the helm of this most poorest of

chess piece substitution he has ever beheld.

PHAVIN
We need proper ones.

OPHELIE
No, I need proper ones. You lot can
play with whichever trinket you
like, but I need proper pieces!
(all smiles)
How splendid an idea to have,
Phavin...

Everyone looks at her, sees where this is heading to, feeling

sorry for Phavin.

Phavin sighs. Stands up. Dutifully, but valiantly.

PHAVIN
Squire, come.

Fernley rises. Miserably, but dutifully.

 6.

PHAVIN (CONT’D)
It is time for a nightly learning
that will solidify your beliefs of
all that is gallant, and ramp up
your spirit while doing so.

Phavin turns to Ophelie, who is still all smiles.

PHAVIN
Proper pieces, princess? I promise
it will be a fetching most quick.

Ophelie giggles as Phavin and Fernley DASH OFF into the

forest.

FERKNALLEN
Mock them not, princess! These are
serious matters!

OPHELIE
It - it is the wine giggling...
Honestly.

FERKNALLEN
Lack of manners, is more like it...

OPHELIE
But I had but mere droplets!

PIXIE
You two. This is no occasion for
spite. Rather we hear music again
than your quarrelling, no?

One of the elves starts strumming his violin. And very soon
it is accompanied by a flute and a pixie-choir. Princess
Ophelie and Ferknallen make amends by having a drink
together.

EXT. FIELD - NIGHT

Phavin and Fernley are at the forest’s edge, huddled together

behind a pile of withered underbrush. The castle is looming
ahead of them, past the scorched clearing which once must
have been teeming with flower-beds.

Phavin puts a WORM up his nose. He shivers for a second, but

then seems rejuvenated. He gives a wriggling worm to Fernley,
who declines.

PHAVIN
It clears away the wine.
 7.

Fernley hesitantly accepts it, places it inside a nostril.

After some shivering, he watches the ominous castle like a
wide-eyed stone idol.

FERNLEY
Who lives in a place so foul, it
withers away its surroundings,
stripping bare all that is green?

Phavin is taken aback by Fernley’s sudden attentiveness.

PHAVIN
He is... without name. But shed
your worries, for he is midway
through hibernation. He shan’t wake
up for another twenty years.
Entombed he is, for now.

FERNLEY
And the flames?

Fernley points at the flames that are burning behind the

parapets.

PHAVIN
His servants keep them alight.

FERNLEY
(scared again)
Servants, master Phavin?

PHAVIN
Oh, just imps and whatnot. You
didn’t think that a treasure
chamber is ever unguarded, Fernley?
(points)
It resides there, beneath the
second archway of the center
parapet.

FERNLEY
Next to the watch tower?

PHAVIN
(grins)
No, next to the invitingly empty
watch tower.

FERNLEY
Still, it is an impossible task to
car--
 8.

PHAVIN
He has accumulated a fantastic
array of treasures throughout the
years. Some by scouring, but mostly
by pillaging. Rumored to be amongst
them... are chess pieces, Queen
Sahrone’s chess pieces, to be
precise.

FERNLEY
(impressed)
That spins my log.

PHAVIN
And what is fit for a queen, is
more than adequate for our
princess.

Phavin rises.

PHAVIN
We will go. I know of a route.

FERNLEY
Wait!
(scrambles onto his feet)
How did you came about all this
knowledge?

PHAVIN
(pats his satchel)
I have my ways. Now let us make
ours... Run!

They sprint away.

FERNLEY
But, my liege, we have no weapons!

PHAVIN
Aye, our presence will be like
stingless wasps! We might buzz, but
we will not prick!

FERNLEY
But then won’t we be swatted --

PHAVIN
Silence!

They traverse the open land between the forest and the castle
quickly and at the best of their abilities, evading moonlight
by staying in the castle’s shadow.
 9.

When they near the CASTLE MOAT, they slow down.

FERNLEY
Moats be damned.

Phavin has already thrown a stone into it: not a splash to be

heard. But its surface is still too dark to make out.

PHAVIN
(whispering)
It appears that the season is on
our side...

FERNLEY
Dried up? Then our luck has started
soon!

EXT. MOAT

BLACK BUBBLES pop up from the tenebrous cracks. BONES

protrude through its muddy surface everywhere. Phavin is
already halfway up the other wall when Fernley comes TUMBLING
into the moat.

FERNLEY
Wait for me!

Fernley scrambles onto his feet and runs up to the steep

wall, reaches for a dried up plant to pull himself up.

He loses his grip when he notices he is clutching a SKELETAL

ARM.

EXT. CURTAIN WALL

Phavin walks alongside the colossal wall in his lonesome. He

goes as far away from the drawbridge as possible.

His hands touch the wall, searching for something. They reach
a peculiar stone, start scratching away the slime around its
edges.

PHAVIN
Just as I remembered, Fernley...
Eh, Fernley?
 10.

EXT. MOAT

Fernley frantically tries to climb out of the moat, but he is

too startled by the hellish SKELETONS that are coming out of
its crevices, semi-dressed in clothes from all era’s.

PHAVIN (O.S.)
Can you at least climb up halfway?!

Fernley looks up: sees Phavin’s extended hand.

PHAVIN
Make haste, you most ponderous of
dolts!

Fernley does exactly that. Phavin grabs him and pulls him up.

EXT. CURTAIN WALL

Together they pry the peculiar stone away from the wall.
Fernley keeps looking at the moat behind him, hearing slime
oozing upward.

PHAVIN
They will fade.

They pull out the stone, drop it, creating a nice step up
into a CRAWL SPACE. They gaze into it: Phavin bravely,
Fernley quivering like a cornered badger. At the end of the
slimy tunnel there is a room filled with bottles of wine.

FERNLEY
A cesspit?

PHAVIN
Nay, too humid. It is a buttery,
hence the bottles, Fernley... In
you go, and let your test of
courage begin.

FERNLEY
I-I... I can’t...

PHAVIN
We shan't disappoint our princess!

FERNLEY
Away to the Dalrusian River with
that spoiled brat! Like she cares
about a game of chess.
 11.

PHAVIN
But she is the marrow of mirth!

FERNLEY
Probably as drunk as a blacksmith
after a hard day of work she is by
now... She’ll be in repose once we
return. If we return! Her drowsy
desires are impossible to fathom.

PHAVIN
You can fathom that crawl space!

He PUSHES Fernley in, and follows suit.

INT. CRAWL SPACE - CONTINUOUS

Fernley scrapes open his bare knees with each crawl forward,
squeezing himself through the smudge. Finally, he makes his
way to the other end, is pooped out into the --

INT. BUTTERY - CONTINUOUS

He listens to his surroundings. Hears nothing too hostile...

Except for a certain grunting. Coming from... PHAVIN, who is
stuck at the crawl space’s opening.

PHAVIN
Drat!

FERNLEY
Master Phavin?

Fernley climbs back in...

INT. CRAWL SPACE - CONTINUOUS

...anxiously truckles toward Phavin.

FERNLEY
I shall push you out, and we can
leave this forsaken fortress of
doom.

PHAVIN
No.

FERNLEY
But I can’t continue alone!
 12.

PHAVIN
My satchel...

Fernley sees it sticking out from underneath Phavin. He tugs

it free, searches through it, finds a parchment on top of
many.

FERNLEY
A map?

PHAVIN
Never leave home without a map to
aid your way...

FERNLEY
This chess piece-quest is getting
too elaborate for me to --

PHAVIN
Go back and wield it! I know it by
heart. I will be right behind you.

Fernley crawls backward, facing Phavin.

FERNLEY
Right behind me?

PHAVIN
(trying to get loose)
I have already forwarded two times
my bodies’ length. Hurry now, the
princess awaits her game. Don’t
twaddle any longer.

FERNLEY
As you wish, master...

Fernley is once again pooped out into the buttery. He unfolds

the map, solemnly waves at Phavin.

INT. CORRIDORS/STAIRWELLS

Fernley sneaks his way through the castle.

Past barely lit corridors riddled with torches...

Past drab passageways...

Past rickety stairwells...

Past eerie, crumbled-away architecture...

 13.

Sometimes he stops when he sees IMPISH SHADOWS being cast

upon the wall. But they are never the sentries that Fernley
fears, nor the demonic beasts he expects: they are only the
fluttering of worn-out tapestries.

INT. CRAWL SPACE

Phavin tries to get loose, but there is not a momentum in

sight.

He drops his head in frustration.

PHAVIN
Pawless hounds of hell beneath a
sinking ship...

INT. CORRIDOR

This corridor is different than before; a faded regality is

displayed by the ornaments on the pillars and columns.
Fernley notices a plant-withered curtain.

He takes a peek.

Starts trembling with fear.

INT. CHAMBER OF SOLACE - CONTINUOUS

The fireplace roars, illuminating a massive bed. Though a

normal bed it is not, for it appears to be organic...
excreted even.

On the bed, beneath the fungus-covered sheets, lies He Who Is

Without Name: lord of this castle, an enormous entity of
about ten feet in length.

The flames from the fireplace are reflected in the glistening

surface of his grotesque, vain-pulsating face and black
horns. His skin is of the dark-leathery variety: thick and
impenetrable.

From the corners of his mouth, black ooze salivates onto the
bed, making it fouler with each passing day.

Fernley notices a PECULIAR SOUND... Almost like twigs

snapping in half.

He looks at the fireplace, which is indeed burning up wood,

making them crack doing so.
 14.

Then he looks at the massive chest that is pulsating

rhythmically beneath the feeble sheets: each breath the being
takes, is accompanied by the cracking of his ribs.

But whatever evil this dark lord exudes: he is hibernating,

thus harmless for the time being.

INT. CORRIDOR - CONTINUOUS

Fernley steps back, neatly leaving the curtain hanging in the

breeze.

At the far end of the corridor, Fernley notices something

GLEAMING.

EXT. FOREST

All laughing and drinking. Conversations switch to hobbies.

NITTSKIN, one of the pixies, is talking.

NITTSKIN
I like to go to the pond behind our
village and leapfrog from submerged
logs to crumbled chunks of masonry
to floating lily pads without any
aid of my wings and --

FERKNALLEN
I LIKE TO DRINK! A LOT!

OPHELIE
Flirting with the court jester, who
is about my father’s age. Oh, and
making juice out of apples! I so
adore doing that.

INT. CORRIDOR

Fernley looks through a gate, into the TREASURY. He is in

awe, washed over by all that is brilliant and glistening.

Walls are lined up with shelves that are carelessly filled

with precious emeralds, beautifully crafted swords, and even
an ivory tree that is trimmed with golden balls.

Everything sparkles.

It entrances so much that Fernley barely notices the CHESS

PIECES. When he does, he smiles victoriously.

He looks for a way to enter.

 15.

The gate is firmly locked, of course. Then Fernley sees,

behind some gem-encrusted shields... the small and faintly
perceptible gate of a ventilation shaft.

INT. CORRIDOR - CONTINUOUS

Fernley roams the corridor while consulting his map. He looks

high and low next to every pillar (which have ornaments on it
that display an ancient history of high peculiarity).

He finds a small gate, carelessly hidden behind a tapestry.

INT. CRAWL SPACE

Phavin sulks, bemoaning the static position he is in...

HIGH PITCHED SHRIEKING make him pull his head up instantly.

The shrieking is followed by the distinct sounds of NAILS

clicking, WINGS fluttering, and that of stone being SCRAPED
upon by iron. They evoke distilled dread.

Phavin braces himself.

INT. TREASURY

A grime covered Fernley falls out of the chimney, is scorched

by the flames that are coming out of the hearth beneath it.
But it’s nothing too alarming, except for some red knee caps.

As Fernley dusts himself off, he snarls as he sees the grate

of the ventilation shaft that he was supposed to come out of.
Then he spots the chess pieces, which are superb, entrancing,
and at the far end of the room.

While walking through the treasury, trance-like, he does not

notice the piercing set of WHITE EYES that stare at him from
underneath an archway of coin-filled trunks.

Though momentarily tempted by the riches around him, Fernley

manages to walk up to the chess pieces without much
restraint, and opens up his satchel.

As he admires the pieces, a BEAST slinks out of its hiding

place. It is a FELARINX: an overgrown, umber colored cat, as
large as a steed, with scales embedded throughout her fur.
She towers over the unsuspecting Fernley.

Just when Fernley puts the last chess piece into his satchel,
he hears a loud PURRING sound. He turns around.
 16.

!WHAP! A paw snaps around Fernley’s body and pulls him back.

The Felarinx flops onto her side, inadvertently toppling over

a table filled with ancient armor and broadswords, holding
Fernley close to her purring body.

As the cacophony of clattering dies down, Fernley is being

scraped along between dense fur and sharp scales. His body
vibrates with each purr the Felarinx gives.

FERNLEY
(soothingly)
There there...

The beast starts licking Fernley with her rough tongue,

coating him with a thick layer of saliva, cleaning away any
hint of soot.

FERNLEY
That tickles!

INT. CRAWL SPACE

Phavin is now staring face to face with a horde of devious-

looking WINGED CHERUBS.

PHAVIN
Portly winged scoundrels, be gone!

Deprived of any means of defending himself, Phavin starts to

growl (poorly) while chomping his teeth at his assailants in
an attempt to scare them off.

This doesn’t work. At all. The cherubs bellow out their

shrieks even more mischievously while moving in on Phavin,
blades drawn and waving.

INT. TREASURY

Fernley tries to free himself from the clutches of this

glorified watchdog, but to no avail.

Every time he tries to get loose, the Felarinx embraces him

only tighter, even softly kicking Fernley with her hind legs
to remind him of his position.

Then, Fernley notices the fur around him moving: wind. He

looks up, sees the Felarinx’s tail waving high up in the air.

As the waving starts to increase in dynamics, Fernley is

getting scared. He looks for a way out of this predicament.
 17.

One of his arms is capable of searching the floor for

something.

ANYTHING.

It is then that Fernley notices the dagger-sized nails that

are seeping through the paw that is right next to his face...

INT. CRAWL SPACE

Phavin is taunted by a sitting cherub. It swings its blade at

Phavin’s face, deliberately missing him. Again and again it
slices air and cuts hope remaining.

INT. TREASURY

As the Felarinx’s purring ebbs off, Fernley finally manages

to get a hold of something.

A BROADSWORD!

But it is impossible to manage even a waving of the arm, let

alone pulling off a harmful sword stroke with it, for the
Felarinx’s other paw is still clutched around his body,
mauling him.

Then the beast widens her mouth. What is in there is akin to

a meat grinder.

Slime drips onto Fernley’s face as he is trying to pull, with

all of his might, the broadsword upward. But the paw that is
pulled tightly around his body prohibits this.

The Felarinx recklessly gets exited now, and rattles her

scales, anticipating the kill.

The scales flap between Fernley and the Felarinx’s paw,

creating just enough space for Fernley to pull up his
broadsword.

The Felarinx’s mouth lunges at Fernley. He quickly rams the

sword upward, impaling the beast through the bottom of her
mouth.

SHE SHRIEKS. He pulls out the sword, and a geyser of black

blood is sprayed upon Fernley. He quickly rolls to safety.

Pandemonium ensues.
 18.

The large cat feverishly twists about in agony, dances wildly

through her slick emanations, spilling gallons of black
fluids across various treasures while kicking them off
shelves and tables.

His agility spurred, Fernley vaults onto a treasure chest,

sword held aloft, and jumps onto the Felarynx. He lands on
her back, winds his free hand around a patch of fur for grip-
sakes and thrusts the broadsword beneath her neck.

The Felarinx starts bucking on all fours, crazed. Fernley

loses his grip on the fur, but tightly holds on to the sword.

As the beast continues her bucking, the sword runs down

across her back until the tail is reached; the Felarynx has
harmed herself more than Fernley could ever do.

She shakes off Fernley with a final spasm of death, making

him sear across the room... into the burning fireplace.

INT. CRAWL SPACE

The cherub smiles at Phavin. It stands up. Walks back... and

runs toward Phavin with wings outstretched and --

Phavin screams HIGH PITCHED.

The cherub smashes against Phavin’s face, grabs him by the

hair and yanks his head to the side, revealing the jugular of
his neck. It SWINGS the knife.

It hits stone.

Phavin is PULLED AWAY, screaming like a tart, out of the

crawl space.

EXT. CURTAIN WALL - CONTINUOUS

A blackened and bloodied Fernley pulls Phavin to freedom.

Phavin regains his composure as good as he can,

congratulatory taps Fernley on the back.

PHAVIN
Exceedingly well done, Fernley.

Phavin tilts his head, slowly peeks into the hole: sees
CHERUBS coming his way. Fernley takes a heroic stance with
his broadsword, poised to strike.
 19.

PHAVIN
No! The stone!

They hastily pick up the stone, manage to cram it back into

place just in time. On the other side there are the muffled
sounds of scraping knives and frenzied shrieks of
disappointment.

With their backs pressed against the wall, Phavin and Fernley
slide down languidly, getting a moments rest as the sounds
slowly fade away.

Fernley drops the satchel and map between Phavin’s legs.

PHAVIN
The chess pieces... Well done.
(notices Fernley’s
scorched clothing)
Did they try to cook you in there?

FERNLEY
(nodding)
Fire proof undergarments saved my
hide.

PHAVIN
Fire proof undergarments? How in
blazes did you get those?

FERNLEY
Well yesterday I... I...
(he looks defeated)
...traded certain chess pieces for
it. Namely... yours.

Phavin’s piercing gaze of anger is matched only by Fernley’s

ashamed downing of the head.

Phavin stands up and looks across the barren landscape, at

the forest nearby, and at the wastelands yonder.

PHAVIN
Do not expect any assistance
through the moat this time.

FERNLEY
I won’t be needing that anymore.
Thanks to you, my liege.

Phavin turns around.

 20.

FERNLEY
Can’t one be pardoned for the
misgivings of an unguided mind?

Phavin astutely beholds his apprentice, who looks battle-

scarred and brave.

PHAVIN
I will forgive, forget even. But
here’s a reminder for the lashing
that you will receive tomorrow.

Phavin SLAPS Fernley.

EXT. FOREST - NIGHT

They totter along tiredly. Fernley spins and twirls his new
found sword.

PHAVIN
So... It had scales? A cat?

FERNLEY
Scales indeed, my liege.

PHAVIN
And what did the...
(stifles laughter)
...cat weigh with it, exactly?

FERNLEY
The cat did not weigh anything with
them. It employs them for when it
hunts for prey... underwater.

PHAVIN
Ah, how clever. Like a fish?

FERNLEY
Like overgrown whiskers attached to
a trout.

EXT. FOREST GLADE - NIGHT

Phavin and Fernley arrive at the feast. Nobody is singing or

scampering about, for the festivities appear to have
subsided.

Only the TWO DWARVES are in motion, still slaving over the
infinite supply of food and drinks, keeping the fire burning.
 21.

Everyone else is asleep.

The ELVES sit back to back, snoozing, with their musical

instruments in their laps.

The PRINCESS lies sprawled out on the ground, mumbling in her

sleep next to the fire.

Fernley knowingly nods his head at Phavin in a ‘I told you

so’ manner. Phavin pretends not to notice.

PIXIES are nestled in the princess’s hair, and the wee

FERKNALLEN lies face down beside her, snoring loudly.

The chessboard sticks out from underneath his engorged belly.

Phavin pulls it away from the dwarf, sits down on the other
side of the fire.

PHAVIN
Fernley, come...

Phavin reaches into his satchel and starts setting up a chess

game. The dwarves join them, overseeing the match with plates
of food and jugs of stout. Fernley is initially at a loss,
but Phavin explains the rules with devoted conviction.

And as night makes way for dawn, chess is played, properly.

THE END