As they drew nearer to the wall, Logan finally saw the break in the rock. A large metal door loomed before them. The door stood at least eight feet tall and four feet wide. It swung on three heavy hinges along its left side with a large handle towards the right. It possessed no visible lock on its steel grey surface. Its sheer lack of ornamentation made it all the more intimidating. There seemed to be words of some sort etched into the rock above the door, but the scrawling text was unreadable to Logan. His talisman translated what was spoken to him, but was of no use for written words.
“Here!” announced the young dwarf.
With that his young guide left and Logan faced the large door alone.
Ah, well, he thought. Best get to it.
Logan pulled on the door’s handle and found it opened surprisingly easily. The metal door was at least six inches thick but the hinges were large and well oiled. As the door opened he was suddenly bombarded by a cacophony of sound. Dwarves hammered out metal here and yelled instructions there. Logan felt the warmth of nostalgia flood over him as he gazed on the scene before him.
“In or out! Make up your mind!” came the angry shout from a grizzled dwarf storming across the smithy towards him.
Logan quickly stepped into the smithy and pulled the heavy door closed behind him. He turned and faced the dwarf who had nearly reached him. Logan had a few moments to study the man before he arrived.
The dwarf was shorter than most of the others he’d seen, only about four feet tall, but he was wide and muscle bulged against the leather apron he wore. His blonde beard hung down just past his waist and was singed in a number of places.
The dwarf stopped directly in front of Logan with his hands on his hips and stared up at him. Logan knew he was being sized up and extended his hand.
“Hi, I’m Logan. The elder’s said …”
The dwarf cut him off sharply before he could finish. His voice so heavily accented that Logan could barely understand him.
“Yes, yes. I know who you are and I know exactly what the elder’s told you.”
He looked up and regarded Logan closely.
“And, I don’t like it you hear!” he continued in a low growl of a voice. “I don’t like being told who can use my forge! Apprentices train for years before they can even pump the bellows here!”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” apologized Logan. “I never meant to offend you, sir. I would be deeply honoured if you granted me the privilege of allowing me access to your forge.”
The grizzled dwarf looked at him again and snorted.
“Well, that was the biggest load of shite I’ve heard in a while!” he announced. “Well, whatever, it’s not like I was given much choice! Name’s Dael Broadhammer. You ever work a forge before?”
“I apprenticed with my father all my life.”
The dwarf snorted again.
“We’ll see, this way.”
The smithy itself was larger than Logan had ever seen, easily containing fifteen separate workstations. Each station held its own forge with bellows and chimney, a good size anvil and a fair supply of tools. A large barrel in the centre of the room was constantly being topped up with fresh water and supplied the smaller barrels at each station. Dael led him to a back corner of the smithy that was relatively private and started pointing things out.
“Tools are there. Forge is there. You can use any of the scrap metal you want there. Try not to hurt yourself too badly.”
A cry from the other side of the large smithy drew Dael’s attention before he could say anything else and he stormed off without a backward look at Logan. He could hear the dwarf bellowing at someone as he crossed the room. Logan’s elfin talisman translated the dwarf’s words.
“What in all Hades do ye think y’re doing, you fool!”
The rest of the words were lost in the noise of the smithy. Logan sighed and turned toward the forge. He felt his excitement rising as he looked through the metal stock selecting pieces for his work. The dwarves still held his father’s forge hammer and it took Logan several minutes to select one from the tools before him. Length, size and weight were all incredibly important when selecting the right hammer, but the key was balance. His father’s hammer was a work of art, perfectly balanced. He was actually quite surprised that he found a replacement amongst the smithy’s tools as quickly as he did.
Returning to his own station, he planned out exactly what he wanted to create in his head and prepared to begin. As he lifted his hammer for his first stroke he could hear his father’s voice in his head.
“Easy boy, make the first strike firm and strong,” he’d said so often. “It sets the tone for the whole piece.”
A single tear rolled down his cheek as he struck.
Logan enjoyed the opportunity to work a forge again. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed it, but as he headed back to the house that first evening he realized how out of shape his body was. Sure he’d been walking and living off the land for the last few months but that used a completely different set of muscles to what the forge demanded.
When he arrived back at their chambers, he found Lan’thor and El discussing elfin-dwarven history with Raeth. He was surprised to see that Raeth had removed her ever present hood and cloak. She must be finally starting to relax with us, he thought. She was actually quite attractive, though not his type, but he noticed that Lan’thor eyes never strayed away for long. He listened briefly to their conversation, but he’d heard much of it before. Deciding his time would be better spent in a hot bath, he said goodnight to his friends and went in search of a bath.
As he eased his aching muscles down into the hot water he couldn’t help thinking that it was good to be back in a routine he could understand.
The next week was bliss for the four friends and they quickly fell into a comfortable routine. Each morning they met for breakfast and then wandered down to the small fenced courtyard to practice their martial skills. They trained hard and by the time afternoon came they were all ready to break for lunch.
After lunch Lan’thor and Raeth trained in hunting, tracking and general sneakiness. They were actually quite inventive in this and it was quickly decided that the courtyard was not a safe place to be during the afternoons. One never knew when Raeth or Lan would come pouncing out of the shadows.
While they did this, El would take over the main room to practice her craft. She had to be careful doing this since the dwarves were not fond of elves to begin with and were absolutely terrified of elf mages. Thankfully, few dwarves would approach through Raeth and Lan’s courtyard and their dwarven cook was usually in the market or visiting in the afternoons. Besides, the cook hardly ever entered the main room anyway, being content to fix their meals and go. Especially after Logan had gone to her on behalf of the group and explained that while they were all grateful to have her, they were capable of cleaning up after themselves. The old cook preferred this option, having her own family to look after. Now, she came early to prepare breakfast for the companions, clean up after that meal and prepare a simple lunch. After that, she would leave to complete her own business, before returning later in the evening to prepare the evening meal. Then, she was off home again.
With Lan, Raeth and El occupied for the afternoon, Logan would make his way to the smithy. Once there he would work for hours and generally lose track of time, he was often the last to leave the forge. He would make his way back through the deserted streets and find that his friends had held dinner for him. He would always complain and say they hadn’t needed to, but he always appreciated the gesture.
In the evening they would enjoy their dinner together and then relax and chat for a while before turning in for the night. When morning came the cycle would begin again.
Chapter Forty-One: Time To Pack Up And Go
Two more weeks passed before they were called before the elders again. The same red-haired dwarf returned to lead them to the council chamber. When they arrived, they found the same council of nine awaiting them. The ancient dwarf
, Master Stonecutter, still occupied the centre chair, while behind the main council, with his back to the far wall, stood another dwarf. His clothes were well made and he looked more like a merchant than a miner, blacksmith or stone smith. His hair was blonde and quite long. It was pulled back into a ponytail. His beard hung down to his waist and looked well groomed and combed. His dark blue eyes flashed as he studied the companions in silence.
After a few moments, the elder spoke.
“We of the council have discussed this matter and have decided to give you our assistance.”
A stately old female dwarf, with flecks of reddish brown mixed into the grey of her hair, sitting at the end of the table spoke levelly.
“This issue of slavery is one we find … troubling. We have been seeking a way to make our displeasure known to the humans.”
She looked to the old dwarf who nodded.
“We have even spoken of ending our trade arrangements with the humans,” she continued. “Though, this would leave us short of many things we ourselves cannot produce. To avoid such difficulty, we have decided to see what comes of your mission.”
A male dwarf, with deep black hair and beard, at the other end of the table explained further.
“We will provide your party with passage to the human city of Tael with one of our caravans. Once there we will give you access to one of our houses and provide whatever assistance we can.”
The black bearded dwarf stopped and gestured for the dwarf at the back of the room to step forward.
“This is Magnus Shalebreaker,” he continued. “He is our intermediary with the humans of Tael.”
The blonde dwarf nodded crisply to the four companions.
“He will give you any assistance he can to get you into the city and help you when you’re there,” the dark haired dwarf leaned forward and looked at the companions intently before continuing. “However, there is one thing that must be absolutely clear, if you are caught in anything illicit, we have no knowledge of you. We were just as fooled as everyone else was. We cannot risk our brethren living in the city and we cannot bring the city guards attention to our own preparations.”
“We understand and appreciate the danger you are placing your people in,” El replied for the group. “Any assistance you can give us will be accepted gladly.”
“Good,” the dwarf continued. “The next caravan for Tael leaves in ten days time. I trust that is long enough for you to get your things in order. If there is anything you need just ask.”
The small bell was rung again and the friends found themselves being led from the chamber again.
“Well that was direct and to the point,” Lan’thor commented once they’d left.
“Hey, at least they’re helping,” El replied. “It’s more than we could have hoped for.”
“Take your allies where you can, Lan,” Raeth added.
Lan’thor sighed and nodded his agreement.
The next morning, as the friends were just sitting down to break their fast, there was a knock at the door. El answered and was surprised to see Magnus Shalebreaker.
“Good morning to you, mistress,” he greeted in crisp, clear Low Tir’anish. “I hope I’m not disturbing. I thought it might be a good idea to sit down and figure out the details of this little adventure we’re all planning.”
El smiled good-naturedly.
“No, Master Shalebreaker,” she replied. “You’re not disturbing us at all. We were about to break our fast and would welcome your company. Please, join us, and please call me El.”
With that, El ushered the dwarf into the house and introduced him to the rest of her companions. Another place was set and as the food disappeared, the conversation quickly turned to the task before them.
Given the partite nature of the elfin people, it made a certain sense that a visit by two members of the race would be an unusual event. When Magnus learned that both El and Lan were the children of council members a plan immediately began to form in the dwarf’s mind. That plan, centred around the arrival of two emissaries from the elfin nation. Lan and El weren’t sure they were capable of pulling off such a deception but Logan was quick to point out that technically there was no deception at all. Lan and El really were the children of high ranking council members and it was quite conceivable that if the elves ever felt the need to interact with the humans then they might very well send them as emissaries.
Raeth found the entire situation and the whole plan in general, incredibly amusing. At least until Magnus mentioned that there was no way an emissary would travel without at least one servant. In fact, more would be expected, but given the nature of the journey their absence could be explained away by an encounter with trolls in the mountains, that left Raeth and Logan as the only surviving servants.
The next days were spent gathering the supplies they thought they might need once they arrived in Tael. Their weapons were returned to them and Magnus arranged for forged letters of introduction, as well as clothes appropriate to the role to be played. The dwarves also pulled an old coach out of storage and cleaned it up for the trip. As Magnus said, it wouldn’t do for the elfin emissaries to arrive in the back of a merchant’s wagon.
While Magnus was taking care of these details, the friends went about their own preparations. Raeth asked for and received a new set of lock picks, while Lan’thor had the ends of his staff capped with metal. El insisted that she needed nothing except her magic, which would either be up to the task or not. And if it wasn’t, then no assistance the dwarves could give would change that.
And Logan, well Logan received a visit at the smithy one day. He was working intently at his forge in the back of the smithy and hadn’t noticed the hush that fell over the entire smithy, until he felt a presence behind him. Stopping his work, he turned and found Dael standing with his arms crossed across his leather apron watching him. Beside the master smith stood Master Stonecutter, leaning heavily on the iron bar he used as a cane.
Logan stepped back out of the way as the elder stepped forward. The ancient dwarf slipped the strange pieces of glass onto his nose and lifted the piece that Logan had been working on. The elder studied it closely and several moments passed.
“So Dael,” the elder asked the master smith. “What do we think of young Logan’s work?”
The grizzled dwarf stepped forward and looked at the piece Logan had been working on. Lifting it, he checked its line and its weight before returning it to Logan with a huff.
“Good,” he answered grudgingly. “Almost dwarven quality.”
“Almost?” laughed the elder as he turned to Logan. “You’ll have to excuse Dael. He doesn’t like admitting that any other creature could match dwarven craftsmanship.”
The elder winked at Logan.
“Of course, this time he doesn’t really have to. Does he Logan Hammersmith,” continued the old dwarf. “Unless I miss my guess, I’d say that there is more than a little dwarven blood in you.”
Logan coloured at the obvious compliment.
“I really don’t know elder,” he finally replied.
The old dwarf turned back to the grizzled smith.
“What do you think Dael?” he asked the smith. “Is there a little dwarf in our friend here?”
Dael studied Logan’s work again and then studied the man himself.
“There just might be at that, elder,” he replied at length.
The elder smiled and shuffled out of the smithy, Dael quickly replaced Logan’s work then went to help the ancient dwarf on his way. Logan sighed and returned to his work.
Chapter Forty-Two: Gifts
The day the caravan was ready to leave, the friends met for breakfast as they normally did. All commented that they were going to miss the dwarven hospitality, most especially the bathing chamber. Though, Logan was pretty sure he had solved its secret and could probably reproduce it. With breakfast finished, they returned to their rooms to gather their belongings together and prepare to depart.
El was just packi
ng the last of her clothes when she heard a soft knock at her chamber door.
“Come in,” she called.
She had her back to the door, so she didn’t see Logan as he slowly opened the door. Logan stood and watched the beautiful elf for a few moments.
“El?” he finally said.
El turned and smiled when she saw him.
“Oh Logan, come in.”
She opened the door the rest of the way and ushered him into the room.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked.
Logan wouldn’t meet her eyes and she could tell something was up.
“Um … no,” he stammered.
El sat at the edge of the bed and looked closely at him. Her eyes narrowed as she studied him, he was holding something behind his back. She could tell by the way he held his arms. He was also blushing an interesting shade of red. She was getting more than a little curious.
“So?” she asked meaningfully.
“Oh yeah … right … um … here … I thought you could use this,” he finally blurted, before shoving a metal box into her hands.
“I’ve got to go,” he announced and practically tripped over his own feet as he fled from her chamber.
El sat stunned, staring at the door as it closed behind him. She looked down at the box Logan had given her. It was a simple metal box with no lock, about eighteen inches long and three inches wide. Slowly, she opened it. Inside the box was a soft leather sheath about twelve inches long. Extending from the sheath was an ornate metal hilt.
She pulled the sheath from the box and slowly drew the dagger from it. It was breathtaking. The blade was double edged and about eleven inches long. The hilt portrayed a stylized Tir’anish Tiger, while the grip was wrapped in a fine chain of woven gold. At the end of the grip was placed a flawless ruby. The weapon was perfectly balanced and fit snugly into her hand as though it had been made for her.
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