As Sam and the Ticklebug made their way to the kitchen, the ancient wooden floors creaked beneath their steps, the soft echoes filling the otherwise quiet morning. The air was tinged with the smell of fresh-baked honeycakes, just as the Ticklebug had promised, and the warmth of the hearth fire spilled out into the hallway, inviting and comforting.
As they entered the kitchen, Sam found himself greeted by the sight of one of his oldest friends, an elderly sage named Brigham, who sat at the table, already helping himself to a plate of the golden, fragrant cakes. Brigham's eyes sparkled with mirth as he took in the sight of Sam, his long, graying beard bobbing with each hearty bite.
"Sam, my boy! You're just in time," Brigham called out, waving a honeycake in greeting. "Come, sit. You'll need your strength for the task ahead."
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