Meanwhile, down the road a piece, Cleric First Class Owlie Cwoss, straight from the gates of the seminary, was swinging his morningstar in short circles before him, as he hummed a martial ecclesiastical cant, and marched into the morning.
He felt good! There were deeds to do, innocents to be saved, and gods knew there were thousands of the poor heathens to be brought to the light!
Cwoss also suspected there were many things under these heavens and on this earth, than were ever covered in 'The World and How To Deal With It:101'. He was no flaming philosopher, but he understood it took many plates to make a meal, and he was interested in tasting al of them.
So involved as he with his proposals to convert the known world, that Cwoss missed the slight waft of sweet smoke that wend it's way across the road, but his keen nose did catch the full effect of the bouquet.
He swung violently in a circle, his face transforming into something akin to a bewildered bull, and pausing his swinging for a moment, peered about locating the source.
"Godsdammnit I can't see you.. but I'm a man of the cloth you bastard! Best get out here and share that before I begin really looking about." This announcement was accompanied by some truly impressive swings of that morningstar. He stepped closer to the edge where the elf was squatting, doing his utmost not to bust a lung by holding back his laughter.
"Fer Fecks Sake man," shouted the elf, 2Watch where you're swinging that bloody thing. Could take somebody's head off y'eejit.."
Roache removed his cloak, and the two young men, so to speak, glared across the road at each other, the smoke wafting uselessly away between them.
Roache glared at Cwoss, in his pristine robe and tabard, while muttering obscure swampelvish curses and epithets, revolving about what young priests could do with their fecking beads and the relative enjoyment it might actually afford them.
Cwoss stood as though poleaxed. The last thing he had been prepared for was the untoward and utterly sudden appearance of a scruffy odd looking man on this deserted road. In fact it had been his suspicion for some time that he had been sent in this direction precisely because it was so unfrequented..
"Witchcraft! He bellowed, and swung his mace such a mighty swing, that it flew out of his grasp, skimmed the top of Roache's hat, and ended up twisting some several hundred yards into the aforementioned field. Looking at his now empty hands with total dismay, Cwoss once again whispered "witchcraft", and sank to his knees in the middle of the rutted road.
"Come on then! Kill me you festering servant of the nether parts of a gravid goat!" cried the cleric, looking as much a Martyr as two years of Seminary and one morning on his own could manage.
"Actually,." laughed Roache, " it might do us both good if you got off your knees before you really get that new gown filthy, and took this doob from me."
It was odd to see.. as the elf spasmed with what was obviously gales of laughter contained, and to most it would have been a fine indication of both his character, and degree of self control.
"And as for witchcraft.. what is the Church teaching it's youth these days. Elves practice the Art, not witchcraft. Now take this thing.."
And as the weed came closer to the Cleric, he threw one more light spasm, and took it, albeit grudgingly.
"They taught us the Truth of the Way, how we would need to maintain our strength to keep to The Path,, and how to use all manner of blunt weapons to speed along the conversion process…" The sentence petered out as the face of Cwoss appeared to swell to half again it's size, and the length of the joint decreased at an amazing rate, but having turned several ever deepening shades of red, he brightened, literally, and handed the sad remains of the joint back to the Elf.
"They also taught us how to cultivate that Number Ten you've got rolled there.. " mentioned Cwoss as though in passing. "I've close to two pounds in my bag here.."
Roache took the proffered joint back one more time, and smiled.
A strange wild look fled through the eyes of the Cleric as he saw his companion's face in it's expression of pleasure. He shuddered lightly, yet another testament to his self control, smiled himself, and the two of them, as though their meeting had been planned, turned and walked down the morn