Bramble packed his sword the morning he planned to save the princess. The blade was really a kitchen knife, but he had sharpened it for a week. He was the smallest hobbit in the village, barely taller than his own dog. That was exactly why he had to go. Somewhere far away, a demon king held a princess captive, and no one else would rescue her. Bramble meant to be the one. He meant to earn a ballad. Then the storm hit. Rain fell in gray sheets all night. By morning, the only road out of the village was gone. Water swallowed the trail past the low stone bridge. Bramble stood at his door and watched brown water rush where the path used to be. His spaniel pressed against his leg and whined. "The road will come back," Bramble told the dog. But he could see it wouldn't. Not soon. The water climbed higher while he watched. His whole quest ended before it began, all because of a little rain. He would not accept that. He grabbed a coil of rope and marched toward the bridge. He thought he could tie a line across and wade through. He waded in to his knees. The current shoved him sideways. His feet slid on the mud, and cold water bit his legs. He grabbed a fence post and hauled himself back, gasping. The flood was stronger than any hobbit. "You'll drown that way," a voice called. An old man stood in the rain nearby, dry as toast. His hair stuck out in wild gray tufts. His blue robe was covered in painted clouds and yellow lightning bolts. He squinted through crooked glasses, as if he had lost something and forgotten what. "Who are you?" Bramble asked. "Wendell Stormwhisker." The old man tapped his own chest, then frowned. "Weather wizard. I make rain. I stop rain. Usually." He glanced up at the black clouds. "This one got away from me. Left a window open, you see. Or was it a spell? Hard to say." Bramble's mouth fell open. "You made this storm?" "Not on purpose!" Wendell raised both hands. "But I can undo it. Give me a moment." He shut his eyes and waved his fingers at the sky. He muttered words Bramble couldn't catch. Nothing happened. Then the rain stopped all at once, as if someone had turned a tap. The clouds pulled apart. Weak sunlight touched the flooded trail. But the water did not drain. It sat there, brown and deep, covering the road. Bramble's dog barked at it. "Ah," Wendell said, rubbing his beard. "I can stop the rain. Draining the flood is a different spell. And I seem to have misplaced it." Bramble looked at the wizard, then at the water blocking his quest. The rain was gone. The road was still lost. And the only man who could fix it had forgotten how.