[ WP ] Two powerful wizards , both dying of old age , decide to have one final fight with each other .

Eliazar sat on his wooden stump deep in the dark forest. He propped himself up against his staff. Or his former staff. He had recently had his carpenter-nephew make it shorter so that he could use it as a cane. Arthritis was a killer, and his hips had been the first thing to start feeling it, followed by his hands, which now rested in a gnarled mess on top of his staff-cane. Walking and spell-casting had become painful as a result. He had dressed in his enchanted robes this morning ( with the help of the nurse his daughter-in-law had forced him to hire ) and had hobbled off into the woods to reminisce of the old days. When asked when he planned to return, he had simply answered, `` Aye dernt nerr,'' and then realized that he did n't have his wooden dentures in. The nurse gave them to him. He took them indignantly, spat an old elven curse at her ( which did n't sound right at all without the dentures ) and shuffled off. 
 
 Eliazar now sat in the forest. He gazed around him at all the trees and animals. He used to be able to command these wretched forces at will, with a simple wave of his hand. Now he could barely get the earthworm at his feet to pay attention to him. He sighed, a wheezy, tired sound. He used to be the Kingdom's court wizard. The king counted on him for enchantments and spells of all sorts. He could heal the entire army with just a few words. He could heave boulders the size of large mountains at enemy encampments. He and the king had conquered all the surrounding lands. All that is, except the Kingdom of the Farngörn to the East. They had the wizard Molgarth working in their favor. He and Eliazar had a long, bitter rivalry. Neither could best the other, and as a result their kingdoms had been locked in a long brutal war, with both sides taking losses and neither making serious gains. But those times were gone. Now all Eliazar had to look forward to was a bowl full of prunes and maybe a hot soak for his joints. 
 
 The bushes rustled nearby. Eliazar craned to see what it could be, grimacing as his stiff neck strained. Red robes came into view, adorned with golden runes. Eliazar recognized their writings, and he recognized the robe's wearer. It was none other than Molgarth. 
 
 Eliazar spoke first, `` My, my, look what the sprites dragged in.'' 
 
 Molgarth started. Apparently he had n't been expecting company. But when his faded eyes came to rest on his arch-nemesis, he grinned, revealing rotting teeth full of cavities. `` By my gray beard. If it is n't Eliazar, the wizard who just could n't best me.'' His eyes found the cane, and his smile widened. `` I see the age had gotten to you, has it Ely old pal?'' 
 
 `` And it has n't been kind to you either, you old troll,'' Eliazar retorted. `` The last time I saw teeth like that, I was talking to the sea-witch of Agabar. And hers were considerably better.'' 
 
 Molgarth' smile faded, revealing several more wrinkles on his face. `` I can see that age has n't tamed your tongue yet. But perhaps I can remedy that,'' he spoke, raising his hand. The long sleeve of the robe fell back, revealing a wand in his twisted hand. 
 
 `` I'd like to see you try, you toad-nymph,'' Eliazar responded, drawing a similar wand from the folds of his robe. He attempted to rise from the stump, but found that he could n't. `` Cursed joints have set up,'' he mumbled to himself, rocking back and forth. After several more attempts, he looked up to Molgarth. `` I might need a little help first.'' 
 
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