The sage of the desert
When Vrenli stepped out of the bowl, which stood in a strange-looking, strange-smelling tent shortly before midnight, he lost consciousness for a moment and when he woke up again, he was lying in front of the tent made of goat and camel skins. A fire was burning next to him, its flames rising into the cold night sky of a desert. Opposite him sat a dark-skinned, skinny old man whose long, white beard reached down to the chilled, sandy desert floor. The sage of the desert, as he was called by the Scheddifer people, was clad in the fur of a desert wolf and around his neck hung a chain on which the teeth and claws of various desert animals were strung. Vrenli jumped in fright.
"Fear not, Vrenli from Abketh! My name is Nagulaj," revealed the old man, who was sitting with his legs crossed.
"How do you know my name and where am I?" Vrenli looked around in confusion, but apart from the tent and the fire burning in front of it, all he could see was a sea of sand in the darkness.
Nagulaj did not answer Vrenli's question, but began to talk about an old book, which he said contained all knowledge and in which the magic of the elves from the Glorious Valley rested. The longer Vrenli listened to the stories, the more he concluded that the Book of Wetherid, as Nagulaj called it in his story, could be his grandfather's book. Vrenli asked him questions several times, but Nagulaj did not answer. Nagulaj was so engrossed in his story that he spoke with his eyes closed, and only when he had reached the end, did he open them and look into the flickering flames of the fire in front of him, pausing for a few moments.
"When the sparrowhawks circle in the sky above us, you will set off for Horunguth Island to meet Master Drobal. That's what it says in the Book of Books," he finally announced, looking at Vrenli with his large, dark brown eyes.