"—and there we were, surrounded on all sides!" Nik's voice carried across the village green, his arms spread wide as if to encompass the imaginary dangers he described. "Marsh spirits rising from the water like vengeful ghosts, their eyes glowing with ancient malice!"
Apollo winced as the gathered villagers gasped appreciatively. The twilight had drawn most of the village to the green, where they sat on blankets or stood in clusters, faces turned toward Nik like flowers toward the sun. Children perched on parents' shoulders, eyes wide with delighted terror.
"The smallest among us," Nik continued, gesturing toward Thorin with theatrical gravity, "proved to be a whirlwind of dwarven fury! His axe cleaved through the spirits as if they were nothing but morning mist, each blow accompanied by a battle cry that shook the very reeds!"
