If a tree fell in the forest...

There were several times that morning Ademar thought of turning back and joining Vantil on his quest. His mind worked over every angle of the situation playing out the possibilities over and over again. What could it hurt to join the druid; it was just a few goblins after all. But then again, he had taken a large group of his forest friends with him, what could they possibly run into that the powerful old centaur and his force could not handle? Every argument brought to the fore seemed to find a counter argument which stalled any change in course. Throughout the entire day the elf wandered through the forest completely immersed in his inner battle while his legs continued to carry him further north through the forest.

It was well after midday when Ademars’ musings were interrupted by the sudden silence surrounding him. With his consciousness returned to the here-and-now, Ademar scanned his surroundings and realized for the first time that he had no idea how far he had traveled nor did he know where exactly he was in the forest. It was a strange place though that was certain. The elf was standing at the edge of an immense circle of giant and ancient trees that reached well over a hundred feet into the sky. They were grounded by trunks that six large men would not be able to encircle and still touch hands. Within this circle all was still and quiet; the moss covered remains of old tree stumps jutting up from the ground everywhere. Although it appeared that the area had been cleared decades ago the forest had not recovered and the plants that were growing in place of the felled trees were stunted and misshapen. At the center of the clearing stood a spire of crumbling wood and stone wrapped tightly and completely in thick vines.

Even though the sun was still high in the afternoon sky a perpetual shadow seemed to be cast upon this spot. The forest seemed to shun the tower, not daring to grow too closely and the massive oak and maple trees on the perimeter seemed to be standing guard over the spire in their midst. Neither a sound nor a whisper of wind penetrated the place. Even as Ademar walked slowly out into the clearing his boots made no noise. Curiosity pulled strongly at the elf, commanding him to investigate the tower while his acute senses screamed out to him warnings of the magic all about this place. When he was within a dozen strides of the structure, Ademar noted that, although it rose nearly thirty feet from the forest floor, it had once been much taller perhaps twice as tall as it now was. Shattered stones and rotting timbers lay all about the outside of the tower which he noted was octagonal in shape and not round at all.

It took Ademar three complete circuits of the tower before he found the door, it had minimal amounts of the masonry rubble blocking it but the ivy had almost completely concealed it. If it had not been for the large flagstones barely poking through the mossy ground before it, he may have never found it. Eager to see the interior of the tower, Ademar drew his long sword and began hacking at the vines. The blade Vantil had given him was not a thing of beauty but it did the job well enough as it slashed through the tough fibrous vines. Within a few minutes the door was fully visible. What had once been a beautiful solid hardwood door bound in heavy brass strips was now scorched and rain-rotten, the brass was nothing more than green scale clinging to the door. The whole thing was off its hinges and just leaning slightly against the granite jamb which held it upright.
Sheathing his sword, the thin elf put both hands and his shoulder into the spongy wood and pushed hard against it. For several heartbeats the door stood still then, slowly the top began to move in, pivoting away from the wall. With a final heave the heavy portal fell inward without a sound and crashed silently to the flagstones inside breaking apart.

The fact that he heard nothing when the door fell alarmed Ademar. A hundred questions flashed through his mind in that one instant, most prominent among them was the fear that he had lost his hearing. This fear proved to be unfounded though, as soon as he crossed the threshold of the missing door the echoed sound of breaking wood greeted his sharp ears. With a relieved sigh he drew his sword again; you could never know what might be lurking in such places.