Boots of Tonis

Loresong

As your song brings forth the tale of the boots, your vision blurs and you find yourself gazing upon a small farm. A vivid red barn is the centerpiece of your vision, as the rest seems to blur at the edges to frame the giant wooden building. A young boy, kneeling into the piled straw and weeping quietly, grips a pair of heavy shoes in his trembling hands. His anguish is apparent, though it seems fueled more by frustration and anger than true sadness. The shoes are comprised of thick unpolished leather and there is a steel contraption between them, holding them together at the toes of each shoe.

The boy stands, his deformed feet obvious now as he moves out of the straw to the middle of the barn. Dropping his shoes, the boy gets a determined expression and moves towards a scarecrow set up near the right wall as if to attack it with his fist. Though his concentration is obvious, he is slow in movement and fumbles painfully due to his deformity. In the end, though he manages to reach the scarecrow in a halting type of run, he lacks enough speed and force to hit it hard enough and the connection of fist to straw does nothing more than displace a few strands, sending the scarecrow into a slow spin on its post. Again and again, the boy tries, but all the determination he possesses cannot make up for the lack of speed and force. Finally, after several hours of his attempts, the light begins to fade in the sky to herald the night. A voice calls from far off, and the boy gives the scarecrow one last frustrated punch, and heads out of the barn to the house in the distance. A rustle in the straw catches your attention, and the lithe form of a man in a simple tunic appears, his gaze fixed upon the retreating form of the boy. He kneels beside the forgotten shoes, picking them up and turning them in his hands as he inspects the steel contraption holding them together. The vision fades slowly, but you have the feeling that there is more to learn.

Once more, you direct the power of your voice towards the boots, drawing forth more of its tale. Your vision blurs and you find yourself gazing upon a collection of clouds. The same tunic-clad, lithe young man of before sits casually amongst the insubstantial smoke as if it were a solid wood seat. A messenger pouch is slung over one shoulder, and he has a pair of boots in his lap where he laboriously works on each one. Sweat forms on his brow and his movements appear to go faster than is possible, becoming a blur that hurts the eye after just a few moments of trying to observe. Suddenly, he looks up with a grin and raises the boots in his hand triumphantly! They flash with a golden hue in the light of the sun, the leather supple and glowing with what appears to be a magical glint. After a simple adjustment to each ankle, the young man adds embroidery to the boots in the form of silver wings. A brief gesture at the footwear completes the project, for the young man leaps to his feet and is gone from the cloud before a blink is able to be given. The vision fades, but you feel there is more to be learned.

As you continue to direct the power of your voice towards the the boots, your vision blurs yet again; this time you find yourself in a cobbler's shop. The young boy stands with his mother, staring with a dull expression out of the window in the shop, while his mother handles her business with the shopkeeper. His expression is one of frustration and resignation as he watches people pass by, their perfect gait such a contrast to his own deformed stumble. After a few moments, the boys mother can be heard saying, "Are you sure? Who would do such a thing for us? Oh my, look at them!" The boy turns and his eyes widen as he gazes upon the boots his mother holds in her trembling fingers, her own gaze shocked and widened as she in turn gazes at the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper shrugs helplessly and repeats himself to the boys mother, "To be honest, Miss, I didnt get a good look at him! He stopped, dropped off the package, and was gone before I could even say goodbye." Glancing from the boots to her son and back to the shopkeeper, the woman asks, "Well how much are they?" and the shopkeeper hands her the note, then says, "Paid for already, Miss." The woman opens the parchment, gazing at it in awe as she reads aloud, "Commissioned for the Wylanae family. Please deliver to Goodwife Wylanae for her son. The cost has been taken care of." The vision ends slowly to the sound of the door chime as the mother and boy leave the cobblers shop, boots in hand. You feel that there is more to be learned, should you continue.

The power of your voice draws forth yet another vision from the the boots. The young boy is now back in his barn, surrounded by piles of straw and the thick scent of livestock. He faces his formidable foe, the scarecrow, once more, and his expression speaks volumes of his steadfast determination. The one thing that has changed is his attire -- he now wears a pair of golden leather boots embroidered with silver wings upon each ankle. He grips his stick in one hand, his eyes fixated upon his target. He pauses a moment, gathering his breath and exhaling slowly as he centers his focus upon his task. With a swift kick of his golden boots, he suddenly bursts into speed that is unlike anything ever seen! His movements are quick, his feet no longer fumbling him up! He lets out a whoop of exhilaration, dashing about the scarecrow with the widest grin he has ever been able to give, his movements blurring with celerity. Slowly, the burst of speed fades and he is left panting, but not overly exerted. He stands staring down at his boots in amazement, his mouth agape. The sound of his mothers call for him brings him out of his fixation on his new footwear and he grins, crying out, "Coming!" as he leaves the barn and makes his way to his house in the distance. The vision slowly fades.

The purpose of the golden leather boots eludes you, as its makeup seems to be in discord with the harmony of your voice. You learn nothing new about the boots.