text: [Themes: Magical Realism]
  
  > Go downwards
  Many grasses - wild oat, foxtail, ryegrass, and buffalo grass make up an ocean of green rolling around you.
  
  The only thing breaking the continuity is a huge and gnarled tree, framed dark against the wide sky.
  
  A spatula rests on some grass, looking very out of place.
  
  > take the spatula
  You reach down and easily pick up the spatula. Though you aren't sure where it belongs, maybe a seafaring mouse needs a paddle somewhere.
  
  > Inventory
  You are carrying:
  a spatula
  a whisk
  a measuring cup
  a round tin
  seeds, flute, house key, stone of flexibility and origami bird
  
  > Go north
  The wind blows gently across the rolling meadow. You can just make out the faint notes of far off birdsong, though you can see no birds here yet. This is a lovely spot to sit for a moment.
  
  A hammock sways slightly in the breeze.
  
  > examine the hammock
  The hammock is wide and cozy.
  
  > lie on it
  You hold the hammock steady and climb awkwardly into it, thinking with some amusement that for all their comfort, hammocks are particularly uncomfortable to get into... But now you are lying down, every limb supported. Your skin warms in the sun. You are held and rocked gently. As you sway, looking up to the great wide sky of Eunice. All this cuddling into the hammock has succeeded in making you rather sleepy.
  
  > Sleep
  You close your eyes for a moment. Thoughts that were loud and distracting become quiet. You can hear your breath grow deeper and more regular as you fall into a light sleep.
  Birds and insects make a sweet lullaby around you.
  After some unknown amount of time you wake up to Eunice, remembering your quest. A line from a poem alights on your mind, "Hope is the thing with feathers".
  
  > Go east
  You start to wander east into the green grasses, but without a way to navigate you would easily become lost. If that happened, hope would never return to Eunice. Thankfully, you turn back..
  
  > go to the north
  (first getting off the hammock)
  
  Around you the garden is beginning to return to life. The rose bush has tiny pink buds, preparing to become flowers soon.
  Just north of you is an old, wooden house. At one time it was a dearly loved home, a place of comfort and laughter. Now it stands silent.
  
  The porch of the old house ends abruptly as the stairs have rotted away beyond all use. There is a cracked flowerpot leaning against the old house.
  
  A tattered note flutters, caught in one of the nearby bushes.
  
  > put the seeds in the pot
  You gently plant the seeds in the cracked flowerpot.
  Quickly, tendrils sprout in the dirt. They grow into strong tangle of vines, twisting and turning around each other until they form stairs north to the porch.
  
  > Go north
  You walk gingerly up the green vine stairs.
  
  It was always a humble porch, now looking only slightly worse for wear, and it has been swept recently.
  
  A metal mailbox sits off to one side and a mat lies near the front door.
  
  > look at the mat
  Woven grasses form a square mat in front of the door. It does not say "welcome". It does not even give a very welcoming impression.
  
  > look under the mat
  You find dust and dirt.
  
  > Clean mat
  You rub the welcome mat.
  
  > examine the mailbox
  It is a metal box with the word "Mail" embossed on the front. It looks polished and clean, and a little out of place on the porch.
  
  > open it
  You pull open the front panel of the mailbox. A pair of beady eyes glare back at you from a tiny wrinkled face. The elf, for she has narrow pointy ears sticking up above a little green hat, screeches loudly: "BAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!"
  
  > look at the elf
  The elf is about five inches high and looks at you with an unyielding grumpiness.
  
  > ask the elf about the elf
  The elf glares at you.
  
  "Bah, the elf," the elf yells, again. The elf is very yell-y.
  Who knew elves would be so screechy.
  
  > ask the elf about the mailbox
  The elf rolls her eyes.
  
  > ask elf about the Eunice
  "You want to know about Eunice?" the elf asks, though clearly it is a rhetorical question, "it's dark, it's empty, and it's not going to change."
  
  "That seems a little severe", you respond. Surprisingly, she doesn't yell but just shrugs, "I am not one to compromise. People have told me I need more flexibility, but where would I get that?"
  
  > give the stone to the elf
  The elf steps back to let you place the little stone inside the mailbox. She stands for a moment with hands on her hips, looking at it, and then with great effort she pushes it just slightly to the left. Now that it is in the perfect place, she sits on the stone of flexibility just like a bean bag chair. The elf is now grinning happily.
  
  > ask the elf about the Eunice
  "Can you tell me more about this place?" you inquire.
  
  "I don't get around Eunice much," the elf admits, "though before the Troll shut himself away, this was a happy place - when Hope was free. I visited the group in the woods and the toad long, long ago back when Hope was here and we knew "how to kneel down in the grass, how to be idle and blessed"..." She clears her throat and awkwardly wipes her face with the back of her hand. "So much has changed since Hope was lost."."
  
  > ask the elf about Hope
  You mention Hope.
  
  "Maybe things won't always be as they are now, maybe things can change for the better." she shrugs, "if you can succeed."
  
  > ask the elf about Troll
  "So do I have to fight the troll or something?" You ask worriedly.
  
  ""Fight the troll? why would you do that?" the elf gasps, "he is going through a really tough time right now, but I don't think he would ever fight anyone."
  
  > ask the elf about the mat
  "Sounds interesting. Haven't got the foggiest idea about that," replies the elf, "I'm just a tiny elf in a mailbox, after all."
  
  > check what you're carrying
  You are carrying:
  a spatula
  a whisk
  a measuring cup
  a round tin
  flute, house key and origami bird
  
  > unlock the door with the key
  You unlock the front door.
  
  > open the door
  The door swings open.
  
  > Go north
  The elf waves goodbye.
  
  The whole house has the feeling of neglect and something more... as if the place were holding its breath.
  
  The front door is open, letting in rays of golden light.
  
  A huge troll looms in front of you.
  
  > look at Troll
  The troll is standing rock-like in the middle of the one room house. He is large and the house is rather little, so he takes up a lot of space.
  
  > ask Troll about Troll
  The troll can feel your eyes on him, and... s l o w l y... turns ... his head .... toward you.
  
  "Hhhrrmmmm" says the Troll, "hhrrrmmmm" then he seems to forget what you were talking about.
  
  > look at the bird
  An expertly folded paper bird, the GIFT of GRATITUDE. The colors seem to change slightly in the Eunice light, but you think its blue. You remember your Gratitude List:
  
  ifcomp
  
  > ask Troll about Hope
  After your long journey you can't resist asking, "what really happened to Hope?"
  The troll looks at you and remains frozen.
  
  > ask Troll about the Eunice
  "Hhhrrmmmm" says the Troll, "hhrrrmmmm" then he seems to forget what you were talking about.
  
  > ask Troll about the house
  (the house key)
  "Hhhrrmmmm" says the Troll, "hhrrrmmmm" then he seems to forget what you were talking about.
  
  > go to the south
  "Goodbye for now," you say. The troll watches you worriedly as you leave.
  
  It was always a humble porch, now looking only slightly worse for wear, and it has been swept recently.
  
  A metal mailbox sits off to one side and a mat lies near the front door.
  
  > go south
  You walk gingerly down the green vine stairs.
  
  Around you the garden is beginning to return to life. The rose bush has tiny pink buds, preparing to become flowers soon.
  Just north of you is an old, wooden house. At one time it was a dearly loved home, a place of comfort and laughter. Now it stands silent.
  
  There is a cracked flowerpot leaning against the old house. A tangle of great, green vines is growing up to form stairs of the front porch.
  
  A tattered note flutters, caught in one of the nearby bushes.
  
  > look in the pot
  The cracked flowerpot is empty.
  
  > Go north
  You walk gingerly up the green vine stairs.
  
  It was always a humble porch, now looking only slightly worse for wear, and it has been swept recently.
  
  A metal mailbox sits off to one side and a mat lies near the front door.
  
  > go north
  The whole house has the feeling of neglect and something more... as if the place were holding its breath.
  
  The front door is open, letting in rays of golden light.
  
  A huge troll looms in front of you.
  
  > greet Troll
  "Hello," you squeak out a greeting.
  
  The troll can feel your eyes on him, and... s l o w l y... turns ... his head .... toward you.
  
  (You could ask him about Quest, Hope, Poem or Joke.)
  
  > ask Troll about Quest
  "I am still on a quest to free Hope!" you proclaim, "w-will you help me?" The troll stares at you unmoving which seems intimidating at first and then you see he really isn't able to move.
  
  "Got frzen whin Hofe traffd." he says and hardly moves his lips as he talks.
  
  "Oh no," your voice sounds weak and tiny in the little house. You don't have anything prepared for this. "How can I help?" you ask.
  
  The Troll looks around, thinking, his eyeballs the only thing that has free movement, "Laughng...kno any gud jokes?
  
  > tell Troll about the joke
  You remember a few silly jokes, and tell one to the Troll. "What gets wetter the more it dries? A towel."
  
  The Troll's belly shakes and he makes a barking-burping noise. He is laughing!
  He shakes himself vigorously and begins puttering around the old house.
  
  Things begin to look a little brighter in the old wooden house. The Troll makes a series of complicated taps on the wall and is able to open numerous little cupboards.
  "Now that I can move about again I feel like celebrating." He talks at you from over his shoulder, "Hope might actually be freed with you here, and I know what would be perfect for a little celebration!"
  
  The Troll begins to take out ingredients from all sorts of hidden places: bright red berries, a crock of butter, dark chocolate, a bowl of flour, and a jar of honey.
  "Where did that cake tin go?" he wonders aloud.
  
  ...
  ...You take out the cake tin and put it on the table about to say something, when the Troll glances up, "ah ha!", he says, and then butters the tin, "to remove the cake easily," he explains, "now if you were a measuring cup, where would you be?"
  
  ...
  ...You take out the measuring cup and put it on the table about to say something, when the Troll glances up, "ah ha!", he says, and begins to measure out all the ingredients needed. When everything is in he wipes his hands on his pants, "now where is that whisk?"
  Once again, you take out the whisk and put it on the table about to say something, when the Troll glances up, "ah ha!", he says, and begins to mix with an expert hand, "Now, now, now, one last thing...the spatula..."
  
  ...
  ...You take out the spatula and put it on the table without saying a word. When the Troll happens to glance up, he says "ah ha!" and takes the spatula in his hand. He uses it to transfer all the batter from the bowl to the baking tin. Then he puts the cake in a little oven hidden in a corner.
  In no time at all, the utensils and ingredients are cleared away, and a wonderful smell of butter and sugar fills the air.
  
  The smells coming from the hidden oven grow more and more delicious.
  
  > Smell
  The house smells clean and fresher than before.
  
  The smells coming from the hidden oven grow more and more delicious.
  
  As you watch with your mouth watering, the Troll takes out a perfectly baked cake, removes it from the tin, and covers it in pale pink frosting.
  "Please, don't wait on ceremony," the Troll graciously invites you toward the cake, and then proceeds to take a large handful of the dessert himself. It is only then that you notice something new has appeared from all of the Troll's puttering and opening of secret compartments.