Lemme tell you about this elf named Keef. Ever since he’s been outta prison, he’s been spouting off his confession at every tavern in town anyway, so I don’t think he’ll mind if I put my spin on it.

Keef moved to Brumewood City sometime after the war. Immediately hated the place. Always whining about the fog. Said it wigged him out how he couldn’t see ten feet in front of him, how he never knew what was behind that veil of mist, how the floating firefly lamps looked like monster eyes.

Old buddy from the war hooked him up with a janitor job at the infantry outpost. Steady beer money was enough to keep him in town.

But really, he stayed ‘cause of Amennoel.

Amennoel was the bartender at The Randy Sapling. Quaint little place, perched between four redwoods a hundred feet up. Heights were never Keef’s thing, but he climbed those spiral stairs fifteen minutes after his shift, on the dot, every night. Twice on the weekends.

Keef was sweet on Amennoel. Talks about her to this day. Obsessed with her heart. Her heart this, her heart that, her heart’s so big. Now, I’m paraphrasing here; he didn’t actually say “heart,” more referring the geographic region in which her heart resided. But I’m romantical in that way.

Here’s the thing though: Amennoel was taken. Married to the tavern owner, Big Boothwyn Poppydance. Everybody loved Boothwyn. Hulking but cuddly, boisterous, handshake like a toppled sequoia, could make a constipated dragon laugh. One of those naturally beloved guys.

Beloved by everybody, but Keef.

Keef couldn’t stand the way Boothwyn slapped his back. Called him Private Sourpants. Was jolly. What business does an elf have being jolly?

You see, Keef thought himself big stuff, being a direct descendent of Buck Thornsight, that famous archer who kept a thousand bloodthirsty goblins from invading the Capital with nothing but his bow and spit. You know, that guy.

Keef was real proud of this piece of ancestral trivia, even carrying around a tattered tapestry square of old Buck, pointing out the family resemblance to anybody in range.

It always rankled Keef’s britches that he was just a foot soldier, despite his fancy heritage, but Jolly Boothwyn, son of a barrel-maker, was his Captain. Keef worked commissary duty under Captain Poppydance for three years, yet Boothwyn didn’t recognize him. Keef had to remind Boothwyn they were in the same company. Twice.

But Amennoel and her fabulous heart, well, that was enough to keep Keef a regular.

She was a sweet gal, I’ll give Keef that. Genuinely a kind soul. Apparently, when Keef showed her the tapestry square, she said “Oh, wow! You two have the same smile!”

That simple, polite kindness was enough to convince Keef she saw the inherent nobility inside him, which everybody else was too dumb to see.

One day, Keef was chatting up Amennoel after work, about how his boss was such a jerk making him clean stuff, as if his very job was to do such things, but Amennoel was staring off, losing track of his story.