Games of the Powerful

by William E Samela

  ~~~~

  Late afternoon on the third day after Hairytoes left his friends and brother, he neared his village high in the mountains. The arduous trek through the mountains with the first heavy snowfall of winter was almost over. Nestled in a small valley between high snow covered mountains blanketed with a fir trees and a soft white covering of snow his village is as picturesque as anyone could wish for. At one point during his journey, he had to seek shelter in a cave to wait out the storm then trudge through a foot of snow and in some places even more to get here. Seeing the smoke from the cook fires and forges through the snow covered fur, he made his way up the trail both excited to be home and filled with uncertainty about the reaction that his news is going to cause the clan leaders. This time of the year, many of the clan leaders will be secure in their winter caves and homes not trekking across dangerous frozen mountain passes to come to a conclave of leaders, thankfully it is not his decision to make.

  Rounding a bend in the meandering trail, he walked into his village greeted with the sight of children running and playing in the snow. Large snowball fights were under way with children laughing even more when a few seemly errant snowballs headed in his direction. Adults waved in greeting while either sweeping snow from their granite tile roofs or front stoops all under a beautiful cloudless azure sky. Walking down the center of the village toward his home, the smell of cooking food made his stomach growl with anticipation. His village happened to be one of the homes of the oldest and largest of the clans making Brokk as clan leader a very powerful and influential leader among the other clans.

  His house like all the others are built of ruff cut mortared granite walls with wood shuttered windows and heavy front doors. The huge fireplace at the back of the house is belching smoke inviting him inside to seek the warmth of the fire he knew to be burning there. Walking up the stoop toward the porch leading to the front door he kicked off the snow gathered on his boots so to not track in snow. Hearing the noise from the front porch the front door opened and he saw his maw standing in the entryway with a smile on her face. When she saw her son at her door, she reached out with both hands pulling him inside quickly closing the door behind him.

  “Aye ma laddie ye be finally hame,” his mother said hugging him close. Stepping away from the kitchen table, his father quickly reached out shaking his son’s hand in a warm greeting.

  “It is guid tae see ye laddie but from whaur have ye been an whaur is yer brither?” his father asked with a concerned expression on his face. Always a concern to him when his sons leave together and one does not return he waited expectantly.

  “ ‘At is quite a story paw.”

  “Lit heem in paw an’ get warm by th' fire he will teel us in time.”

  The house is large by dwarf standards with a main room, kitchen and fireplace. Off to either side of the main room is the master bedroom and another shared bedroom. Hairytoes slid his pack off his back setting it on the floor by the door. Quickly hanging up his sword, he stripped-down to his bare feet and leather jerkin. Quickly taking a seat in a chair by the fire warming his hands and feet, his mother handed him a mug of warm dwarf mead to warm his stomach. Settling comfortably in chairs by the fire Hairytoes told his story about the orc movements southward leaving out the part about finding Celedryl on the trail and the loss of her village for a little later.

  “Ah must speak tae Brokk an' lit heem know 'at war is comin' but th' question is will he believe me?”

  “Ah will go wi' ye son an' together we will convince heem,” Dulgar Grayshanks said earnestly. Where Hairytoes had flaming red hair and a neatly trimmed beard his father had long-red hair streaked with gray pulled into a ponytail hanging to the middle of his back. Unlike the men in his village, his father’s keeps his face cleanly shaved making him look younger than his years. Laughter lines crisscross his face showing his true age, but they certainly did not detract anything from his countenance.

  “Ye men will not leave thes hoose until we hae had a proper meal at th’ dinner table,” Gilia admonished sternly. The two men nodded their heads in acquiescence knowing better than to argue with her. Gilia is a typical dwarf wife that loved her husband and children but brooked no argument when she deemed it necessary to assert herself. Her long blond hair also streaked with gray framed out a face that still looked young for her age with a few signs of the hard life taking shape across it. She wore a white apron over a floor length homespun dress in light blue matching her eyes. Besides, the food cooking in the hearth smelled delicious so no argument would be coming from either of the dwarfs for they are starving as usual as if they have not eaten in months.

  The food as always is delicious and Hairytoes could not seem to get enough. Gilia served a meat stew that would stick to a dwarf’s ribs with warm fresh bread that she took off the side warming rack in the hearth. They was nary moment to talk each enjoying the other’s company and of course the food. When the meal was complete, Hairytoes knew he had to give his maw and da the bad news.

  “Ah hae terrible news tae teel ye an' mah heart is heavy wi' th' burden. Th' orcs hae ventured further sooth than normal an' raided inside High Valley an' wiped out aw of Celedryl’s clan, Berek is deid,” when he said it he burst into tears reliving the horror of the deaths of an entire clan. A clan he had loved like his own and now they were all dead. Tears glistened in both his maw and paw’s eyes at the telling.

  “Mah sweet lassie mah Celedryl whit has become ay 'er?” Gilia asked anguish.

  “She is safe wi' Hobby maw she is safe fur now but Ah fear fur 'er.” Reaching across the table and took his mother’s hand and held it relating the entire story. They were amazed when he told them about the two new friends from another world.

  “We need tae warn th' clans paw, we need tae warn aw who bide in these moontains tae gird fur war,” Hairytoes stated firmly.

  “Aye, son 'at we dae an we will need tae see Brokk as ye say, he will decide whit it is we shall dae.”

  “Ye men will decide whit ye will but Ah fur one will go tae Celedryl. Ah am 'er only maw she has left an' Ah wulnae leave 'er in 'er time of need,” Gilia said with the tone and look on her face they knew too well that nothing would stop her from going.

  “Fine maw 'at ye will but, ye wulnae go aloyn. Hairy will gae with ye tae find 'er an' I will heed Brokk’s wishes in thes matter ay war,” Dulgar said in an equal tone brooking no argument.

  Quickly getting dressed in warm furs and boots they opened the front door into surprisingly chilly air, leaving the warmth of the house may have made it feel much colder than it truly was. Hairytoes noticed the snowball fights had stopped, and the children reluctantly heading into their homes to get ready for supper and bed. Walking along the well-worn path to Brokk's house their boots made crunching noises in the packed snow interspersed with many shouts in greeting from adults and children entering their homes for the evening.

  Brokk’s house is twice as big as the Grayshanks’s home with a double front door made of solid black oak with intricate carvings of animals. It amazed them every time they looked at the massive doors with the snow bears standing on their hind legs growling to the smallest bird sitting on a tree branch. The doors were made to order down in Qenildor by a master woodcraftsman, barged to the Pine Hallow Trading Post, then painstaking brought through the mountains finally reaching the village. Most were awed by their size and grandeur, and how beautiful they looked on the house once completed. The metalwork of the brazen doorknockers mounted on each door with back plates shaped like wolves heads with their noses pointing downward and their eyes appearing to bore into you is beyond anything they had ever seen.

  Dulgar lightly knocked on the door with the doorknocker waiting patiently. Henwen, Brokk’s portly wife answered the door with a smile. “Wa awrite Dulgar an’ Hairytoes it is sae nice tae see ye. Come hurry inside, it is tay cold tae be out oan a night like thes,” Henwen said stepping back from the doorway swinging the door wide to let them enter.

  “Guid evening
tae ye Henwen Ah hope we arenae intrudin' oan ye at thes late hour,” Dulgar said politely.

  “It is nae bother Dulgar ye are welcome haur at onie hour,” she replied sincerely ushering them quickly into the house closing the door behind them. The main room of the house is quite large with a massive hearth and a warm fire blazing in it with comfortable chairs about the room for talking and enjoying each other’s company when guests arrive. Which happens a lot since Brokk is clan leader he would frequently entertain guests here. The kitchen is directly behind the hearth making it convenient to cook from and warm the house. Off to one the side of the hearth is a hallway leading to the rest of the house and from this hallway, Brokk emerged with warm smile on his face.

  “Guid evening tae ye mah friends whit brings ye tae mah humble haem?” Brokk asked.

  “We hae news of greatest importance tae discuss wi' ye,” Dulgar replied straight to the point.

  “Come, come sit doon by th' fire an' warm yoorselves,” Brokk said gesturing for them to sit in the plush leather chairs near the fire. “Henwen be a guid lassie an' please brings us thee mugs ay warm meid tae warm uir bellies, it is mighty cold outside fur thes time ay th' year.” In mere moments, Henwen brought them three steaming mugs of mead on a brass tray setting it down on the table next to them. Reaching for the mugs they sat back contentedly sipping the warm drink.

  “Brokk, mah son has some grave news tae teel ye.” Dulgar made the introduction for Hairytoes because he is the eldest and sire. Brokk looked at Hairytoes expectantly waiting.

  “Th' orcs hae ventured further sooth than normal an' raided inside High Valley an' wiped out aw of Celedryl’s clan, Berek is deid,” he paused at the shocked expression on Brokk’s face letting that sad bit of news sink in. The expression on Brokk’s face went from deep sadness at the loss then as fast to bright red with anger. Brokk is a massive dwarf if a dwarf can be called massive he could. His thickly muscled arms and barrel of a chest made him a mighty warrior and hence clan chief. No one could stand in his way when he is angered as he is now. Instantly, he stood enraged crushing the mug of mead spilling the contents over his hand and onto the floor.

  “Ork blood will fill th' valleys an' run like streams doon th' sides ay the moontains,” he raged. Henwen came running into the room very concerned at the commotion her husband made. “Sit Henwen thaur is news 'at ye must hear fur we gird fur war.” He pulled a chair over for her to sit then he sat done his rage under control for the moment. Turning toward her, he told her what they had spoken of so far, the news upsetting her greatly.

  “That puir, puir dear child, Celedryl must be overcome,” Henwen, lamented.

  Hairytoes continued telling them everything and as with every telling he knew they would be skeptical and amazed at the same time. He could tell that Brokk believed him knowing him well enough that he would never tell a tale such as this in jest or mischievousness. He waited calmly for Brokk to process what he said not daring to intrude on his thoughts. His father had chimed in at the end telling him of Gilia’s plans to find Celedryl and that Hairytoes would go with her. Finally, Brokk looked them in the eyes with an intent expression of a dwarf that has come to a decision.

  “Dulgar ye will tak' fifty warriors an' gae tae Celedryl’s village an' secure it. Ye must get th' kine herded into th' pens an' barns fur 'at is food ‘at many will need come sprin'. Thaur shoods be plenty ay stored food tae save too. Start fortifyin' th' village. Ah will send fur fifty mair warriors from Strongtooth’s clan tae meet ye thaur since thae are th' next closest clan beside us. Ah will send messages tae th' humans askin' them tae send warriors tay. When th' orcs move sooth come sprin' they will pass through thaur first an' we cannae lit them pass unscathed. Ah will go tae th' elves an' speak tae Aelfdane he will listen tae me. Besides fur aw we know he may hae awreddy had a run-in wi' th' orcs an 'at wull only help our cause. Did Ah miss anythin'?” Brokk asked looking at Dulgar. Dulgar shook his head no. Shortly thereafter Dulgar and Hairytoes returned to their home for a good night’s rest, before an early start on the morrow.