Thinking back to that day, Hewy touches the stone heart hanging from around his neck and looks at it again. Awena had written something on it in her own language that fateful day. The words he could read, but the symbol in the middle had a secret meaning that she had never had the chance to tell him. "Someday I will discover what it says," he thought as he leaned on his staff and stared into the pale blue sky.
Hewy's hair did not have any grey back then and his clothes were much newer so long ago, but inside he still felt like that young troll-odyte each time he thought of Awena. She had loved his hairy vest. It was part of his new look he had felt he needed before finding a rock band. It tickled her nose she had told him each time they hugged.
The staff was something he started using after she had left. In his travels, he found that it was a useful tool when he walked the trails... thinking. He had put a large red stone on the head of the staff when he first made it. Now that stone was the size of one of his fingers from wear.
Besides the vest, stone heart, and staff, the only other item he still carries from those days long-ago are the drumsticks he never got to use (except when he finds a suitable rock to tap a tune one). He had realized after Awena left the songs were not the same. The music before her were nothing more than ditty's... now he composed complex symphonies in his mind. Hewy is now a master musician who writes some of the greatest compositions the Realms play. He roams the villages and hamlets as he composes his masterpieces and now others play his music instead of him playing theirs.