Dear Arturo,

Be content for now to know that Hennavalers continue to revel in everything out of the ordinary. I recently met a traveller who told me this tale which was forgotten in their town for hundreds of years. It was found written on crumbling parchment in a walled-off cellar among rotting mead barrels. The tale is typical of their tastes.

Out in Hennavale, not far from Hallowed Egward’s temple, one finds the Thornmoon Inn. It is well known and well reputed among the outer towns. It is kept incredibly clean, is richly furnished, and serves a most delicious brewed moss. Most important of all, the inn accepts guests without fee.

Dawlon was the innkeeper in the time that Egward came visiting from the city. The two struck up a conversation that lasted late into the evening. Dawlon asked Egward what brought him to Hennavale.

“There is to be a great ceremony at your temple in six days’ time,” said Egward. “I came early to pay an old debt. I will travel the countryside for a few days and you will see me again after.”

As Egward was getting up to go to bed, Dawlon began writing a note. Egward asked what it was.

“A note for the spirit who lives here,” Dawlon answered. “Telling him not to worry about the carpets tonight.”

Now Egward believed in spirits but doubted that one would do chores for an inn. He wondered about the spirit as he went to sleep. In the morning he got up and saw the carpets as muddy as the night before.

Egward said to Dawlon, “The outcome would be the same if there were no spirit living here. Telling a spirit not to clean the carpets is no different than telling the wind not to clean the carpets.”

“Then I will prove the spirit is real,” said Dawlon. “Tonight I will leave it a note telling it to clean the windows, counters, carpets – everything! And you’ll see his work.”

Egward decided then to skip his other travels and stay to see how things would turn out. It cost him nothing, after all. Sure enough, the next morning Egward arose and noted that the inn was spotless. He swiped his finger atop the window frame and not a spot of dust was to be seen.

“Still,” said Egward, “the same could be done by a particularly industrious servant. One needs not be a spirit to be an excellent housekeeper.”

Dawlon thought for a moment. He approached his apprentice, greeted him by name, and calmly put a dagger in his neck.

“He’ll be fine,” said Dawlon, short-cutting Egward’s objection. “I will leave a note asking the spirit to bring him back to life and in the morning he will be fine.”

Egward spent the rest of the day worried for the apprentice. But when the next morning came Egward found Dawlon and the apprentice laughing together in the lobby.

Egward said, “I see no more reason to doubt you, Dawlon. It seems you have a spirit for a housekeeper. But why does it agree to clean up after you?”

Dawlon explained, “For as long as anyone can remember, the Thornmoon Spirit has lived in this building and welcomed everyone. The only payment it takes from its guests is one day of their life. Each day a man stays here he will die one day before he was fated to.”

Egward was surprised but not concerned. After all, what are a few days at the end of one’s life?

He said, “Well, now the great ceremony is only three days away. I suppose I will enjoy your hospitality a while longer before I return to the city.”

Later that day, Egward passed away peacefully during an afternoon nap. Dawlon remembered Egward’s purpose in visiting and told the priest down the road. They agreed that the great ceremony should be held outside as a precaution. When the evening bell rang the roof of the temple collapsed, killing only bats and mice and leaving the townsfolk of Hennavale unharmed.

When the temple was rebuilt it was dedicated to Egward, now called Hallowed. For centuries after, many travelled to Hennavale from afar to see the temple and stay at the Thornmoon Inn. New moon observances were held outside from that time on until the temple overseers abandoned Hennavale altogether.

Perhaps we will try to locate this old temple the next time you visit. I would be delighted to see a memorial to this old tale built on the site where it once occurred. I am sure you could put this story into song if you liked.

Looking forward to hearing from you soon,

Sidwid Hull.