by Niel Hancock
Dwarf, shrieking, lunged after the voice, promising the most severe dwarf pummel ever, but stumbled over his foot and fell with a crash into the table.
“You ungrateful beast, you ingrate,” howled Dwarf.
“Puffed-up gnome,” giggled Otter, saving the pot of good dwarf tea from toppling.
And Dwarf slammed with a vengeance into the chair, spun backward, and landed heavily in the spilled remains of the dwarf cakes, which skidded crazily across the floor.
“You’ve been working on your formulas so long you’re afraid even to laugh anymore, Dwarf. Besides, it might strain your face. But it won’t, Dwarf, if you give it a chance.”
And the dwarf, striving vainly to get up off the slippery floor, finally succeeded in pulling his hat up from his eyes, and staring dumbly for a moment at the fire, spoke in a much gentler and more hushed tone, as if he had really only seen for the first time again.
“You may be right, old friend. You may be right, this once. For all your foolishness, you sometimes remind me a bit of Greyfax. I only hope he has good reason for leaving us so long unguided.”
“He must have, or we would surely have heard something by now.”
“I would like to think so. After these past few years, I’ve begun to wonder if he hasn’t forgotten all about us. After all, what’s a dwarf and two animals to Greyfax? And he must have more important things to do than worry about the likes of us.”
Otter thought quietly a moment before answering.
“It wouldn’t seem too likely that Greyfax would tell us to stay and then forget us. Yet I do see your point about him being busy and all. He could well forget us, but I don’t feel like he has. There was something more to our meeting him that day at the River than a chance encounter. I’ve thought and thought about that, and Bear and I have talked about it, too. We both felt something was going on we weren’t too sure of, and Bear got quite stuffy about it later, and said we would all be better off if we stuck to our own, and left wizard’s chores to those who didn’t care a hoot about their own welfare.”
“Oh, bother Bear, the dear ass. He’s always concerned about something or other which never turns out to be anything more than crabgrass. But I do wonder at the silence, and the fact we haven’t heard a word before now.”
“Perhaps we’re forgetting something, or not remembering all of what Greyfax said,” suggested Otter doubtfully, his small muzzle worked into a frown.
“No, we’ve followed his instructions, insofar as he gave any instructions. But it does wear on my nerves, to be waiting like this.”
“Well, I’m sure we’ll hear word just as soon as we are supposed to. Now let’s have another little bit of this wonderful herb tea, and sleep on tomorrow. I’m sure our heads will be clearer, and we can see what Bear makes of all this. Or perhaps we could make a scouting party to see the countryside hereabout, and find what news, if any, there may be for the having.”
“That might answer, my friend. Although one of us should stay here, in case Greyfax or Fairingay should come while we are away.”
“Good. Then perhaps you can stay, and Bear and I might just nose about a bit. It’s been some months since we’ve had a look beyond our own front porches. And we’re much more able to go about unnoticed.”
“Well, a plan is what it took. Now I feel much better. Just to be doing something to fill up the waiting.”
“And we can fill up the waiting before our naps by falling to on these household chores.”
And Dwarf and Otter, after carefully cleaning the floor, straightening and rearranging the furniture, washing the dishes and banking the fire, finally finished, and the two friends crept off to the two tiny hammocks hung from the walls, and each dreamed of the day when whatever it was they must do would arrive, and in their dreams, each tried to find new strength to face that inevitable hour. Then the dwarf tea began its magical healing, and the two friends passed out of the heart of that disturbing realm, into peace and harmony once more.
A
Scouting
Party
A new layer of snow blanketed the valley as Bear and Otter set out on their errand to see what they might of the surrounding country, and to try to find clues as to what went on in the world that existed beyond their own borders.
Dwarf had furnished them with journey cakes that he had baked especially for this trip, although Bear’s own pack bulged with other items he had thought to bring along.
“You never know how long these all-day outings will last,” he said sagely, looking a little accusingly at Dwarf, who simply grumped and huffed.
“I’ll be surprised if you’re able to walk at all, with that load.”
Otter giggled.
“Look how he sinks down in the snow.”
“We’ll see who’s laughing when we run out of food, and it will be, ‘Oh, Bear, why didn’t we think to bring enough?’” snapped the big animal indignantly, tightening the harness on his pack and wriggling it onto his back.
“You’ll both be back here long before that happens,” shot Broco. “Or at least if you haven’t lost all your senses you will. There’s no need to stay gone till next Mayfest.”
“I’m sure we’ll be back long before then,” agreed Otter, putting his own pack on. “I’m not too keen on taking longer than I need on this chore. But I will get to find out about that backwater I saw when we were first here. I’ve just never had the time since to explore it further.”
“Hurrrrnmph,” groaned Bear, “I think if all this trip is for is finding you a new water hole, then if it’s all the same, I’ll pass. I’ve just got a new store of firewood laid in, and I need to do a little mending on some of those old sleeping hammocks I’ve found in the back of my pantry.”
“It’s far more important than finding Otter someplace new to swim, Bear. We’ve talked it over, and it’s all been decided. If you’d rather stay, then say so, and I’ll go in your place, and you stay here in case Greyfax comes.”
Dwarf’s voice had taken on a worried note that brought Bear to his senses.
“Oh, Dwarf, you know me. I wouldn’t be happy if I couldn’t complain a bit. Of course, Otter and I are the ones to go. We can travel easier, and quieter, and cover more ground in less time. And if there is anything at all out there, it won’t seem so strange if they catch sight of an animal or two.” Bear paused meaningfully. “But seeing, a dwarf abroad might very we’ll turn some heads.”
“And anyhow, I’ve really been wanting to see what’s been going on beyond the falls. It’s been so quiet lately, you’d wonder if there’s anyone at all beyond our settlement,” chittered Otter, testing his weight on the walking stick Dwarf had fashioned for him.
Broco’s manner grew more serious.
“Do you remember all the signals we’ve agreed on?”
Bear repeated back the words, his eyes shut, with a slight frown creasing his brow, as he struggled with the detailed instructions Dwarf had given him.
“We’re to watch for any sign from you here, in case we’re needed to return, or in case Greyfax shows up.” Bear paused, the frown growing deeper, then went on. “If we find anything of interest, or that warrants it, we’ll signal you.”
“Do you think this power will work?” asked Otter. ‘! mean so that it can be seen for any distance at all? It’s fine in the small fires on our hearths, but will it make enough red smoke to carry anything farther than that?”
“It will do,” reassured Dwarf. “We used that powder for signals before, during the time of trouble, to gather the dwarf lords to do battle against the dragons.”
“Then that’s settled. But what I’d like to know is, exactly what are we searching for?” asked Bear. “I mean, Greyfax wouldn’t have any trouble finding us if he were interested, I don’t think. So are we supposed to be out looking for him? Or what?”
“No, he’ll have no trouble finding us,” replied Broco. “But what I’m curious to know is if there is anyone, or anything, other than the wizards, who would have
any reason to be looking for us too.”
Otter’s eyes widened.
“You don’t think anything is, do you, Dwarf?”
“No, although best warned, best armed, as the saying is. And we’ve been content here, at our own tasks, minding our own pots, and not knowing what’s going on, or gone on, beyond our own noses. Success in matters of hiding are often dependent upon knowing from what you’re hiding, or m what way you need to go about the business of hiding at all.”
“Well, that’s all good and proper, I’m sure,” snorted Bear. “The saying goes m bear lore that a sleeping bear is the best bear in winter, and here I am, out traipsing about like a silly goose, looking for I don’t know what, and not even sure of what to do if I find it.”
Otter tugged at the pack to settle it more securely on his back, and patted his ruffled stomach fur down.
“Oh, we’ll know what to do, Bear. I can’t imagine not knowing. We’ll most likely creep quietly back here, or signal Dwarf, or as likely as not, have a good walk, and maybe exchange news of some sort, if we do chance across any of our own kind anywhere.”
“Not likely to meet our sort in these parts,” muttered Bear. “And I haven’t heard or seen any indications that there are many animals left this side of the River. And those there are might be not so much of a mind to have any dealings with us. I’m sure they’re all very nice, good sorts, perhaps, but not very much company, I shouldn’t imagine.”
“Oh, Bear,” chirped Otter, “there are good sorts here, I’m sure. Maybe just not as well traveled, or as well read. Things have changed a bit since you and I were new here.”
“You two have managed to waste the better part of the morning, and so far as I’ve seen, not made any real progress at getting down to the job at hand,” snapped Dwarf, huffing a bit.
“At least well have a mile or so between us and this pesky dwarf,” replied Bear shortly. “Come on, Otter, hop up, and I’ll give you a ride.”
“Thanks, Bear, but I’d just as soon walk awhile. There are some lovely snowbanks I’m dying to sled on. You might try too, if you’d like some fun.”
“No thanks, I’ll find my fun in front of my fire when we get this little errand done. It could even be that I may not hear more from a dwarf the rest of the winter.”
“And you won’t, old fellow, if you’ll only be about what you ought to be about. This is for our own protection. And there won’t be any fire at the hearth if we let ourselves be lulled into a false sense of safety simply because we were too lazy to look to our own defense.”
“Come on, Bear. Dwarf’s right, and you know it. We’ll get this done, and settle it all, so we can have a nice surprise party for ourselves when we get back.”
“Otter’s right, Bear. Hurry along, and the quicker done, the sooner forgotten. We’ll all rest easier, knowing one way or another the lay of the land and who or what’s been passing on or around our boundaries.”
Otter had scampered ahead of the big animal, and turned to shout over his shoulder in a giggling voice.
“Last one to the marsh pond is a spotted plover.”
Without waiting for a reply, Otter was gone, galloping hard in his clumsy-footed manner toward a long, gently sloping rise that ran in a slow, flowing motion down the lower portions of the white-covered valley.
In another instant, Otter was nose-bumping down a long drift, whistling and chirping his high spirits, and the object of his mission forgotten.
Dwarf huffed, and turned angrily to Bear.
“There, if for no other reason, is Why you should be going, to keep an eye out on that reckless, irresponsible water dog friend of yours.”
Bear was already away without answering, for he’d remembered as they talked that he’d found a honey stump along somewhere down in the area of the marsh pond, and that the tree was more than half full the last time he’d been there, which was beyond the fog of his day-by-day memory, but he’d liked die clover sweet taste of the marsh bees’ honey, and if one were forced to be out in the middle of winter, then it was good to have the pleasing prospects of a decent meal to keep one’s spirits up.
Bear loped on, the cold snow lying in a fine powder over his back and squeaking beneath his paws.
Ahead he saw Otter, standing to wave his farewell to Dwarf, who stumped forward a few paces, his hands jammed deeply into his cloak, a worried frown playing across the smile he had made himself wear as he was saying goodbye to his friends.
Broco could not put his finger exactly on any one sign or indication, but there was something, some indefinable something that was not right. A raising of the hair at the back of his neck, or an odd sensation in the middle of the night, or passing fancies at different times that someone, or something, had broken their fastness in the beautiful valley, and that they were no longer out of sight or reach of an enemy that Greyfax had warned him of in their meeting, so long ago now that Broco began to wonder if it had taken place at all.
As he watched his two friends scrambling across the wide white expanse before him, out of earshot now, he raised his hand in salute, and rather than let himself go on imagining things, he marched resolutely into his kitchen and began the tedious task of cleaning up after his baking.
Greyfax
Returns
Dwarf sat before a late evening fire, reading and making a note or two as he turned through the heavy journal on his lap.
This time, he thought, something must surely come of it. The signs of all the suns Were in the right spheres, and the signs of his family lore book spoke of the sameness as there was before, when the lords underground had forged their brilliant wares, and the heavens were only a few billion aeons old in their second birth.
For a relatively young dwarf, he had seen something more than a small part of this world, and had been caught up in the long and weary Wars of the Dragon, m the times of trouble, and gone over Calix Stay at the end of those years, his heart saddened and broken by the death of his mother and the departure of his father for the Delvings. His mother had perished at the Fourth Battle of Endin River, along with many cousins, uncles, great-grand-uncles, and a host of friends from the multitude of dwarfish clans which flourished in the early beginnings of Atlanton Earth.
He knew of the stories of Bear and Otter, who had so often related tales of their other lives over the comfort of a late fire such as the one he sat before now. He missed the company of his friends, and he could not keep himself from being concerned about them.
“Stumble into no end of mischief, as like as not,” he muttered aloud. “I’ve always been fortunate enough to be close by to keep them from coming to any real harm, but drat it, I simply had to let them go off alone this once, and we must simply have the lay of the land. Greyfax never said anything more than hole up and wait; and that’s twelve winters past.”
Froghorn lay curled at the little man’s feet, and he opened one eye to listen to Broco.
“It’s been two full days now, without a signal or any other sign. I hope they haven’t come to grief.’’
Broco leapt up and began pacing furiously up and down before the fire.
“It really isn’t like them to stay away like this. I half suspected they’d come dragging home last night, reporting all’s well, and there would have been an end of it.”
Froghorn had opened his other eye, and sat up, cleaning his paw.
“I don’t suppose you might find them for me?” mused Broco, half to himself. “They probably have lost themselves somehow, and need a guide to find their way back. And it wouldn’t hurt anything if you were to take a look around yourself.”
Froghorn swallowed a lazy yawn and went to the door.
“That’s the spirit, old fellow. We’ll both feel better if you take a look. Perhaps it’s all unnecessary, but then better safe than sorry. And I’II keep the fort here.”
The crisp chill of the night blew into the room as Dwarf opened the door, and Froghorn shot quickly out, and soon was beyond Broco’s vision, disappeared in
to the bright glow of the firelight that glittered merrily on the new powdered white snow on the porch step.
He gazed out into the darkness for a moment longer, then shut the door softly on the doubts and fear that had stolen over him.
And inside, now completely alone, the doubts took on more terrifying possibilities.
Broco stirred up the fire and threw on another log to brighten the dark shadows that seemed to have invaded the cheery little study since Froghorn had gone.
A strange change came over the flames, turning from orange to bright green and purple, and then a series of brilliant white flashes, followed by a beautiful sound of pipe music, soft at first, then louder.
Broco had Been lost in thought in his old easy chair, but now jumped to his feet in great alarm.
“Great blades of Co’in,” he cried, and dashed for the bucket of water that stood on his sideboard near the sink.
A loud crackling sound exploded with tiny blue stars, and as Broco whirled to douse the runaway flames with the water, he became aware of a figure sitting in the chair he had just vacated. It was an old man, dressed in gray from head to foot, except for his vest, which showed through his open cloak. It was a magnificent brocaded vest of such fine material it sparkled and spun the firelight in dizzy reflections, as if it were water, or glass, or some wonderful stone. Upon his head was the five-pointed star of the Circle of Windameir.
The dwarf stood speechless for a moment.
“Greyfax Grimwald,” he at last breathed softly. “I thought you’d never return.”
The wizard smiled gently at his small friend.
“I was gone for a time, but the hour has now struck that I have returned.”
“But,” Dwarf blustered, “I mean just like this?” Broco reddened, then blurted out, “I thought there would be more of a to-do than this.”
“Fireworks, or a parade? No, my good spanner nothing so grand as all that. Enough to be here at all with all the uproar and turmoil. I’m lucky to have a moment to spare.”