Blom was mighty uncertain about a mighty number of things these days. The winds were blowing different, the rivers sounded like no rivers he could remember, and even the light was a mite unfamiliar. He supposed it was part of his perspective that was changin’ but he couldn’t help but determine the world was movin’ on without him.

For that purpose he had settled hisself in Gilba Gilba and shut his ears to the rumors of the world.

“Aye Blom,” called Farmer Gack from across the way. Gack was leanin’ on his walkin’ hoe and hollerin’ his greetings at everyone who came near. The town had mostly moved on from Glen’s disappearance and news of Hem Slonnigum II’s rather dramatic exploits in the South O’ Things, and the first to return to normalcy was the way of greetings.

“Aye,” replied Blom, nodding tiredly. That young Hem boy had been on Blom’s mind a trite bit more than usual, so much so that Blom had occasion to wander the edges of the Fleep Fleep Forest in contemplation. Was a time when Blom had the fiery impulses of that Slonnigum lad, for he hisself had sailed the Island Realm and danced among the Wispy Fairies that dwelled down there. He had half a mind to get in touch with the lad and pass off some warnings, but decided against it. He had no business livin’ his life again through another.

Blom would spend most of his remaining days in deep reflection, considering whether the life he lived had been indeed the most meaningful or memorable. Turns out, he reasoned, in the end it don’t amount to much any which way. The leaves were turnin’ as they usually did this time o’ year and Blom had no more thoughts in his brain. He was stunned to make the slow-motion discovery that memories fell out of his head with the same careless grace as the falling leaves, landing silently on their final resting place. There they lay, invisible and forgotten.

He trudged back to the Ragged Maiden and readied it for a lively evening of activity and company.