ne more thing before I forget. On the first evenings, together with the rangers, we not only had a filling meal, but also a dark drink with a spicy-sweet note, which our companions called Icebock. This drink came from the slopes of the Misty Mountains, far to the north, and was probably not dissimilar to the beers of the dwarves. As I was and still am enthusiastic about this drink and emptied several pints of it every evening, Voci began to tease me on the third day by calling me Mr. Icebock or Master Ijsbok (as the drink is called in the north). Because I liked this name much better than ›Little‹ and - as I found - it also better reflected my personality, and the name my mother once gave me was buried in the depths of the Dark Tower, I solemnly announced that from now on I should be known as Ijsbok. Everyone around the fire agreed to this with a big hello and several more tankards. Voci stood up, raised his tankard and said solemnly: »So be it!«
