There was no long, long time ago, for this story just began and I don't guarantee a happily ever after, because who knows how long it will last. What I do guarantee is that in this story: there is a sleeping man on the side of a road, that the road leads to a specific place and that the man will soon be awoken.

'Mmmm!' The sleeping man sighed as pleasant, richly spiced odours wafted through his nose. He could hear the near crackle of fire, Canter must be cooking, he thought. As his senses faded once again into a pleasant dream of a mistress he had been committed only partially to saving, he remembered that Canter did not know the first thing about cooking.

The sleeper awoke, blinking the sleep crust from his eyes and stretched his arms and back. His nap had done him good after a long morning of slaying a rival band of thieves and brigands who threatened the road he now slept on. It was mid afternoon, the sun had warmed his legs as he slept and upon standing he revelled in the feeling of warm pants brushing against his skin. Looking down at the ground, a small fire winked and spat at him, beside it, a funny looking cauldron with a delightful stew being turned with the help of a silver rod, beside that, a blanket of fine red silk, ornamented for use with silvered cutlery and fine dishes, beside that a tiny animal of legend rolled about on its back, the sleeper smiled at this and turned to the thing beside that, Canter sat patiently, well, rather impatiently as she bounced on her rump waiting for the meal to finish, and beside that, well, the sleeper didn't know who it was.

'Who are you?' The sleeper asked curiously examining the only thing he found extraordinarily out of place.

The cook sat crossed legged a book perched upon his left and right foot, his fine and delicate hand garnishing the last herb over the stew. With a pleasant smile and a clap to rid his hands of the bits of herb the cook rose. 'Good afternoon!'

'You are a strange being, cook, what is your name?'

'My name is long and the tongue often gets tired before I have finished saying it.' The cook replied, still smiling pleasantly, eager to begin the feast.

'Then why have you come cook? Did you not see this sword that I carry? I could be a thief, or a bandit, or even a strange man without a name short enough to pronounce, or even a man of the great mountains, devout on sending gallons of blood to his master far beneath the crust of this world.' The sleeper garnished his sword for a moment before replacing it tidily through his stained, oh he will need to clean that, belt.

'I have come down this road to find a specific place, I saw you sleeping under that tree there and beside you a pile fresh vegetables and fruit, then I met this wonderful creature, who looks by all intents as a child with a beard, but changes her shape into the most amusing of creatures. I asked her if she knew you by name and with a happy nod she replied. I gathered the nerve and asked if she could find us an animal to cook, and after assuring her that she would not taste very good she went and found a small meaty creature, quite cute and profoundly unharmable, but I assured the thing it was necessary as so many vegetables should never be eaten without a rich stew and meat to chew.'

'I am very surprised by this, cook, you don't seem very friendly, especially friendly enough to coax a meaty animal into laying down and be cut up for afternoon lunch.'

The cook shook its head and put a finger to its temple. 'Oh no, heavens no! It did not lay down and be killed, it struggled quite fiercely, my coaxing was entirely in vain, forest creatures don't understand language as you and I do.' With a smile the cook kneeled and began to serve the cauldron of stew into beautifully crafted bowls. Then from the fire he plucked the remainder of the animal and with a long, slender knife cut many thin slices of meat onto each plate and tore apart a nearby loaf of bread.

The cook offered the sleeper a seat at the head of the blanket and said a tiny prayer. Canter began eating, it was a curse to be able to find food and have no knowledge on how to cook it but she revelled in the taste as each mouthful filled her little belly. The sleeper watched her with amusement as bits of the stew became caught her beard. He too tried the food, it tasted good as he had not eaten since the night before and his stomach groaned happily as the food made its way down.

'I don't suppose you have a name that people call you?' The sleeper was growing tired of addressing someone without knowing their name, he might have slept in a forest, but he was not uncivilized.

'Hmm, well, one man called me Argo, because when he first met me all he could do was cry: Argh! I don't suppose he liked me, and when finally I had left, he could only cry; O! In joyous rapture. He was quite the clever man, his word play was immaculate to say the least, if not a little insulting. Another woman called me Doorhandle, because she always saw me opening doors for others, but by no means of a career I assure you! I am no run away slave, as you can tell by my magical talent of the swirling silver apparatus.' The sleeper blinked at the clinking silver rod that still spun in the cauldron, surely that was magical. 'I do wish I was able to say my name for you, but when I try it often causes me to run out of breath and fall asleep. Argo, I suppose will do, it is short.'

'I don't suppose it shall, for you have not grieved me as you have the last man you came across, for you have prepared an excellent meal for myself and my companion. No good cook, I will not call you Argo, I shall name you now as Wandercook, for obvious reasons, and because the next meal you prepare, you will have wandered some other place, and it does not say whether or not you are a cook of any merit, for how much magic was used to make the meal I do not know, and so by artifice you may be no splendid cook at all, but merely a magician who brews.'

Wandercook looked deeply amused and hid a smile with a napkin. The rest of the meal was spent by the sleeper telling a mostly fictional tale of his mighty battle with the Hundred Thieves Bandits, who turned out to be only nine bandits, had been sleeping, and the only one who hadn't been sleeping had been killed while squatting, his last words did not even come from his mouth. But such a tale received wide applause, and with his ability securely engraved in this magicians mind he introduced himself as Rupert, so as to give name to legend.

'Good-bye.'

'So long.'

The send off was quaint and short as no friendship had been forged from this chance encounter. The magician headed south towards his specific place and Canter itched herself and yawned, the food had made her a might sleepy. 'My, my Canter, I just napped, what would people say about me if all I was seen doing was sleeping in the forest?' He looked down at her cute little face, bearded though it was and smiled. 'I suppose I could put you in my pack and carry you until you awaken, you did after all find all our food today.'

Rupert knelt and opened a pack, Canter crawled inside and before the straps had been reset to his shoulders he could hear her tiny wisps of snoring. Taking several steps Rupert stopped, a branch fell from a tall tree over head and broke as it hit the ground. 'Oh dear, such bad news this early in the day. I don't suppose we shall ever speak to Wandercook again, for I don't know anyone else sadly and a breaking branch is nothing but an omen of death. I do hope he cooked everything fairly, I shouldn't wish to die of poisoning.'

The day was long and the sun bright, the breezes were cool and the day went on, without any poisoning of any kind, and Canter slept soundly, Rupert took especial care to step lightly, he didn't like waking his little companion. A sign ahead was blurry and just beyond it was a group of men sitting around and chattering. The sign read: Welcome SP Siffic. The SP of course stands for "Senior Province," Siffic being the name of the province. Rupert spared a chuckle and held his stomach a mite. 'Oh dear, I believe that I misheard poor Wandercook, I thought he said he was on the road to a "specific place," though thinking back, he may have said Siffic palace! I should have warned him, dear, dear, dear!'

Continuing his trek he approached the three men and two women at the side of the road. 'Dear Rupert! You have come back to Siffic!' The biggest of the men proclaimed and leaped to his feet. The two men embraced a moment, 'What have you found here Barris?' Rupert said, catching the glint of a red blanket.

'A magician came through Rupert, and well, you know how much a magician's head can sell for?'

'That I do, oh my, oh my.'

'Problem Rupert?' The big man said, his head cocked to the side like that of a curious puppy.

'No problem at all Barris, I simply forgot which direction I was going in, and serendipitously had lunch with this magician. Upon our departure a branch happened to fall to the ground and broke into two equally long pieces. This worried me of course, knowing the nature of magicians and how easy it is for one to become a magician who might set out to poison others with their supposed goodness. At once I thought, alas the magician had poisoned the stew and roast and possibly developed his bread with an equally devious yeast and in a fit of charity forgot about the poison as he ate as heartily as both Canter and myself.' Rupert took a deep breath, he was unaccustomed to speaking more than one tale a day. 'It wasn't until I read the sign not a hundred steps back that my mind gave itself back to selfish pleasantries, as all should know that Siffic is no province for the magician. And it is only now, that I see Wandercook's body so mangled and decapitated that I feel at once relieved that Canter and myself were not poisoned, but merely the poor, unwitting souls of a magician's kindness and no more.'

Barris nodded at this tale, his bloodied shirt the sorry receiver of a desperately pulsing vein. 'I see, well, at the end of the day, he was a magician.' His frankness did not offend Rupert, as he felt the same way about such people.

'Good Barris, you will eat well tonight, we had no friendship over lunch. You have not offended me.'

A loud, laughing sigh came from the large Barris who slapped Rupert on the shoulder, he was not a simple man, but hated upsetting his friends. 'Come Rupert, eat to our spoils, we have brilliant cutlery!'

'Oh Barris, two meals in a single day, none of which I have to pay for! I insist that I must reciprocate!'

Shock stained the man's bloody face, but soon it was overcome with calm, Barris eyes closed and his head turned solemnly from side to side. 'I will take no such payment, you are a friend, and one who has without knowing given to myself and my mates food and drink for a while. Your friendly ignorance is a gift to us! If not, then tonight we will toast your forgetfulness instead!'

And so it was that this tale ended well, for bellies were filled, throats were quenched and soft pillows were slept upon. And little Canter, her beard crusted with treats, slept soundly as any companion should after such a day. And when the night grew tired and gave itself over to morning's light, the world began again, as it did everyday.