Introduction: Therrilliar's player wrote this tale in order to more fully allow her to express her halfling sympathies. It's genesis occurred when she was berated for smoking a stogie in the bard's guild. She quickly sought a tale that could defend her choice of pasttime.

Long years ago, when the Halflings had first come up from their earthy roots and had emerged from their caves and hidden pools and began to settle the lands, the little folk had been the brunt of jokes of all of the other races.

They were the latecomers of all the races and had not established themselves into any niche.

"Halflings are only good for feasting" said most of the other races, meaning they were only good at eating food, food, and more food. "Halflings are only good for feasting" said the Gor Togs, although they meant it in an entirely different context.

The little folk were abused, pushed around, and laughed at and were never able to take their rightful place amongst the other great races.

One day there was a great convocation called by the priests of Glythtide, as was done from time to time, and a merry festival was announced.

Now, a Glythtide festival was not the normal affair we know of today, with a few paltry shops and wagons and some contests of skill or luck, though our fests are imitations of those great ancient convocations.

Nay, a Glythtide festival drew folks from all over the world, a huge crowd of folks of all races and professions, all gathered to revel, and drink, and trade.

Central of the activities of the convocation was a series of tests of skills, called the Tourney of the Races, where a representative of each race was chosen, and each representative named a challenge or contest that all of the representatives would then compete in.

Naturally, each representative tended to choose those skills best suited to his race. Thus the Gor Togs would choose a contest of strength (though the infamous drooling contest held one time must not be forgotten), Elotheans would choose contests of lore and knowledge, and so forth.

The Halflings, time after time, could never choose a skill in which they could prevail. Every time they chose a skill, another representative would always best them in it.

Even eating contests were futile with a seven foot tall 350 pound Gor Tog on hand made hungry by the day's exertions.

Finally, the Halflings were reduced to making their skill choices based upon whichever race bribed them the most, for then they would pick a skill favouring that race, which would usually allow that race to win the Tourney of the Races.

This sad state of affairs continued for some time, until one Emil Hollowbottom, a Halfling bard and flautist of some small talent, was chosen as representative of the Halflings. Emil had been bribed greatly by the Gor Togs that festival to choose a contest of swimming, for the Gor Tog representative was one of the best swimmers in the lands.

But this long, sad state of Halfling affairs rankled Emil, and in the day before the tourney, his anger soused with one too many bottles of wine, he fell face first into the bar and drifted off into sleep.

In his drunken stupor he dreamt, and in his dreams Glythtide came to him and said "Kin of my heart, child of my children, think not that I have forsaken you. Tomorrow shall be your great day, for tomorrow you shall prevail...though not in the manner you might first think".

The next morning, the Tourney began. The S'kra Mur chose a contest of juggling, and using his tail to juggle an extra ball he beat all the rest. The Dwarf chose tree chopping, and she just barely beat out the Gor Tog.

The Elf chose a contest of running, and as Emil came to the starting line he began to despair that his dream would not come true. Deep in his thoughts, he did not hear the command to start until the other runners had taken off in a mighty burst of speed (well, except for the Dwarf).

Emil sighed and started to run...and run....and RUN!!

His little legs were moving faster than they ever had before. Past the Dwarf he sped, past the S'kra Mur, past the Human and Elothean. A great gasp arose from the crowd of spectators as the tourney magicians checked to see if any magic was being used.

Emil brightened.....here was a Halfling victory at last! Up ahead he closed in on the Gor Tog and he could even make out the back of the Elf, far ahead. "Here is one for the Halflings!" Emil yelled joyfully.

His yell alerted the Gor Tog, who didn't mind coming in second to an Elf, but was to be damned if he'd come in third to a Halfling.

Picking a spot where a field of leafy plants would block him from the judges, the Gor Tog stuck his tree trunk of a leg out in front of Emil, who crashed into it and fell hard to the ground, stunned.

During the mid-day break before the resumption of the tourney, Emil returned to the bar, dejected. He pulled his flute out and set it down by the hearth while he went to order a drink.

When he returned, he had a nip and then picked up his flute, which was warm from having been set too near the fire. Inhaling to begin a melancholy tune, a blast of strange tasting smoke came from his instrument and into his lungs. The sensation was not unpleasurable, and when he exhaled a cloud of smoke wafted up to the tavern ceiling.

Amazed, Emil looked into his flute and saw that some leaves had been jammed into one end of the flute....leaves from the place where he had been tripped and fallen to the ground. The leaves were burning from the heat of the fireplace!

Emil was curious. He inhaled again and exhaled and found the experience quite enjoyable. With a little practice, he could exhale rings, little puff balls, and even a fairly straight line of smoke.

Inspiration came upon him then, and he quickly went out to the field and got more of the leafy plants. Putting more of them into his flute he lit them on fire and began to practice smoking. What a discovery!

He quickly retired to his room in the inn and practiced intensively for several hours. Eventually, he found he could make shapes out of the smoke....a dragon, a serpent, and a tree.

When the tourney resumed, the Elothean called for and won a contest of instruments, while the Human bested all in a tracking contest. The Gor Tog prevailed in a contest of lifting, and now the crowd became hushed as they waited to see what contest the Halfling would pick, for, they all knew, that would decide the winner.

Emil strode up and announced his contest. "I propose a contest to see who can make a picture out of leaves."

The crowd was puzzled, but the call was made, and Emil smiled as the representatives tried to figure out the best way to go about this....all except the Gor Tog, who eyed Emil menacingly.

The representatives went to their tasks, they taking leaves from the ground and arranging it into some sort of pattern. The Elf managed to find the proper colour leaves to make a fair approximation of an Elven warrior firing a bow.

The Gor Tog's picture was just a mess of leaves, and he said it was "a picture of what happens to folks who go back on their words to a Gor Tog".

After the time allotted by the judges was finished, they noticed that Emil had not lifted a finger during this entire time. "Where is your picture?" asked the judges.

Emil smiled and raised his flute to his mouth. Putting fresh leaves in he lit them up, inhaled, and, praying to Glythtide, exhaled a wonderful rendition of a Gor Tog scratching his head. The crowd was amazed! The Judges were amazed! (Emil was amazed!).

Emil was named victor of the contest and a rousing cheer went up amongst the Halflings in the crowd.

Later that night, as Emil was walking to his inn from the last in a series of victory parties, puffing away on his flute, the Gor Tog representative accosted him, angry at having been betrayed by the Halfling. In the giant's hand was a wicked curved blade.

Emil knew he could not defeat this brute in combat, and he would be dead before help arrived. Thinking quickly, Emil inhaled deeply...filled his lungs with smoke...and exhaled directly into the Gor Tog's face. The Gor Tog coughed and coughed and covered his eyes with his hands in surprise. With that, Emil turned and dashed away to safety.

Emil brought his discovery home to his people and they all remarked not only at the wonderful pleasure smoking brought them, but also how naturally they took to it, able to create shapes in the smoke and subtle colourings that no other race could ever master.

Emil told them that smoking was a blessing from Glythtide, who had given them a skill where even the lowliest of Halflings could best the mightiest of the other races.

And that is how Emil Hollowbottom discovered smoking...and that is why smoking is called in Halfling "Tirianeth Glyth", or Glythtide's Gift.

Script of the Tale [any bard may use this script as long as Therrilliar is credited]

#Tale-Glythtide's Gift

put say Here is a tale of the Halflings and how they were given Glythtide's Gift, as told to me by Therrilliar d'Onlor

pause 4

put recite Long years ago, when the Halflings had first come up from their earthy roots and had emerged from their caves and hidden pools and began to settle the lands, the little folk had been the brunt of jokes of all of the other races.

pause 12

put recite They were the latecomers of all the races and had not established themselves into any niche.

pause 10

put recite "Halflings are only good for feasting" said most of the other races, meaning they were only good at eating food, food, and more food. "Halflings are only good for feasting" said the Gor Togs, although they meant it in an entirely different context.

pause 14

put recite The little folk were abused, pushed around, and laughed at and were never able to take their rightful place amongst the other great races.

pause 10

put recite One day there was a great convocation called by the priests of Glythtide, as was done from time to time, and a merry festival was announced.

pause 10

put recite Now, a Glythtide festival was not the normal affair we know of today, with a few paltry shops and wagons and some contests of skill or luck, though our fests are imitations of those great ancient convocations.

pause 12

put recite Nay, a Glythtide festival drew folks from all over the world, a huge crowd of folks of all races and professions, all gathered to revel, and drink, and trade.

pause 12

put recite Central of the activities of the convocation was a series of tests of skills, called the Tourney of the Races, where a representative of each race was chosen, and each representative named a challenge or contest that all of the representatives would then compete in.

pause 14

put recite Naturally, each representative tended to choose those skills best suited to his race. Thus the Gor Togs would choose a contest of strength (though the infamous drooling contest held one time must not be forgotten), Elotheans would choose contests of lore and knowledge, and so forth.

pause 14

put recite The Halflings, time after time, could never choose a skill in which they could prevail. Every time they chose a skill, another representative would always best them in it.

pause 12

put recite Even eating contests were futile with a seven foot tall 350 pound Gor Tog on hand made hungry by the day's exertions.

pause 8

put recite Finally, the Halflings were reduced to making their skill choices based upon whichever race bribed them the most, for then they would pick a skill favouring that race, which would usually allow that race to win the Tourney of the Races.

pause 14

put recite This sad state of affairs continued for some time, until one Emil Hollowbottom, a Halfling bard and flautist of some small talent, was chosen as representative of the Halflings. Emil had been bribed greatly by the Gor Togs that festival to choose a contest of swimming, for the Gor Tog representative was one of the best swimmers in the lands.

pause 16

put recite But this long, sad state of Halfling affairs rankled Emil, and in the day before the tourney, his anger soused with one too many bottles of wine, he fell face first into the bar and drifted off into sleep.

pause 12

put recite In his drunken stupor he dreamt, and in his dreams Glythtide came to him and said "Kin of my heart, child of my children, think not that I have forsaken you. Tomorrow shall be your great day, for tomorrow you shall prevail...though not in the manner you might first think".

pause 14

put recite The next morning, the Tourney began. The S'kra Mur chose a contest of juggling, and using his tail to juggle an extra ball he beat all the rest. The Dwarf chose tree chopping, and she just barely beat out the Gor Tog.

pause 12

put recite The Elf chose a contest of running, and as Emil came to the starting line he began to despair that his dream would not come true. Deep in his thoughts, he did not hear the command to start until the other runners had taken off in a mighty burst of speed (well, except for the Dwarf).

pause 14

put recite Emil sighed and started to run...and run....and RUN!!

pause 6

put recite His little legs were moving faster than they ever had before. Past the Dwarf he sped, past the S'kra Mur, past the Human and Elothean. A great gasp arose from the crowd of spectators as the tourney magicians checked to see if any magic was being used.

pause 12

put recite Emil brightened.....here was a Halfling victory at last! Up ahead he closed in on the Gor Tog and he could even make out the back of the Elf, far ahead. "Here is one for the Halflings!" Emil yelled joyfully.

pause 12

put recite His yell alerted the Gor Tog, who didn't mind coming in second to an Elf, but was to be damned if he'd come in third to a Halfling.

pause 10

put recite Picking a spot where a field of leafy plants would block him from the judges, the Gor Tog stuck his tree trunk of a leg out in front of Emil, who crashed into it and fell hard to the ground, stunned.

pause 12

put recite During the mid-day break before the resumption of the tourney, Emil returned to the bar, dejected. He pulled his flute out and set it down by the hearth while he went to order a drink.

pause 12

put recite When he returned, he had a nip and then picked up his flute, which was warm from having been set too near the fire. Inhaling to begin a melancholy tune, a blast of strange tasting smoke came from his instrument and into his lungs. The sensation was not unpleasurable, and when he exhaled a cloud of smoke wafted up to the tavern ceiling.

pause 16

put recite Amazed, Emil looked into his flute and saw that some leaves had been jammed into one end of the flute....leaves from the place where he had been tripped and fallen to the ground. The leaves were burning from the heat of the fireplace!

pause 14

put recite Emil was curious. He inhaled again and exhaled and found the experience quite enjoyable. With a little practice, he could exhale rings, little puff balls, and even a fairly straight line of smoke.

pause 12

put recite Inspiration came upon him then, and he quickly went out to the field and got more of the leafy plants. Putting more of them into his flute he lit them on fire and began to practice smoking. What a discovery!

pause 14

put recite He quickly retired to his room in the inn and practiced intensively for several hours. Eventually, he found he could make shapes out of the smoke....a dragon, a serpent, and a tree.

pause 12

put recite When the tourney resumed, the Elothean called for and won a contest of instruments, while the Human bested all in a tracking contest. The Gor Tog prevailed in a contest of lifting, and now the crowd became hushed as they waited to see what contest the Halfling would pick, for, they all knew, that would decide the winner.

pause 14

put recite Emil strode up and announced his contest. "I propose a contest to see who can make a picture out of leaves."

pause 8

put recite The crowd was puzzled, but the call was made, and Emil smiled as the representatives tried to figure out the best way to go about this....all except the Gor Tog, who eyed Emil menacingly.

pause 10

put recite The representatives went to their tasks, they taking leaves from the ground and arranging it into some sort of pattern. The Elf managed to find the proper colour leaves to make a fair approximation of an Elven warrior firing a bow.

pause 14

put recite The Gor Tog's picture was just a mess of leaves, and he said it was "a picture of what happens to folks who go back on their words to a Gor Tog".

pause 10

put recite After the time allotted by the judges was finished, they noticed that Emil had not lifted a finger during this entire time. "Where is your picture?" asked the judges.

pause 10

put recite Emil smiled and raised his flute to his mouth. Putting fresh leaves in he lit them up, inhaled, and, praying to Glythtide, exhaled a wonderful rendition of a Gor Tog scratching his head. The crowd was amazed! The Judges were amazed! (Emil was amazed!).

pause 14

put recite Emil was named victor of the contest and a rousing cheer went up amongst the Halflings in the crowd.

pause 8

put recite Later that night, as Emil was walking to his inn from the last in a series of victory parties, puffing away on his flute, the Gor Tog representative accosted him, angry at having been betrayed by the Halfling. In the giant's hand was a wicked curved blade.

pause 14

put recite Emil knew he could not defeat this brute in combat, and he would be dead before help arrived. Thinking quickly, Emil inhaled deeply...filled his lungs with smoke...and exhaled directly into the Gor Tog's face. The Gor Tog coughed and coughed and covered his eyes with his hands in surprise. With that, Emil turned and dashed away to safety.

pause 16

put recite Emil brought his discovery home to his people and they all remarked not only at the wonderful pleasure smoking brought them, but also how naturally they took to it, able to create shapes in the smoke and subtle colourings that no other race could ever master.

pause 14

put recite Emil told them that smoking was a blessing from Glythtide, who had given them a skill where even the lowliest of Halflings could best the mightiest of the other races.

pause 12

put recite And that is how Emil Hollowbottom discovered smoking...and that is why smoking is called in Halfling "Tirianeth Glyth", or Glythtide's Gift.

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