The Quest, Four

It is many days and many nights that pass before the wandering Eldar finds what he knew must be waiting to be found. The singing stones. He hears them in the far northern space one circit, calling to him as the desert calls to the rainclouds. At another source of alien green water, he finds the grove.

Fungus-trees and a ground more soft than stone, the beautiful minstrel walks among the sick and corruption as if it means nothing. He has brought his tools, and begins the painstakingly delicate process of removing some of them. 

Every tap of his hammer leaves the strange stones singing painfully, and he must wait until their shriek dies before tapping it again. Each time they scream, the living stone around him makes wet sounds as the fungus shudders. 

It is many many hours before the largest one cracks, and breaks away from its brethren. The Eldar clutches his prize to his chest like an addicted thing, looking around as if just now realizing the noise could bring orcs upon his head. He steals away, back into the dark along paths he now knows, even as the singing stone glows brightly through his bags.