The Eastern Dwarfs: Part One - The Red Fields

by deSouza, Leo

  “A long time ago, as far as I remember it is safe, if this is what ye are guessing about.” The captain replied.

  “What is there?” Olaf insisted.

  “No that much, lizards, snakes and vultures, whirlwinds and a lot of dust, and some sharp rocks.”

  “Well it does not seem that bad.” Olaf replied.

  But Torag was not happy about it, he had endorsed the captain’s decision just for the sake of inducing confidence in the party, and also due to the fact that he knew he where under Thuor’s charge. Not sure about the so called safety, he had heard many stories in the past. The company went ahead, afternoon advanced as the sun started to come down. The landscape began to change and the soil became dusty, the grass was now sparse and some loose small rocks could be seen. Torag gazed left, towards the mountain range, looking for his hawk. “Did anyone see Balfour? I did not, since he flew away this morning.” He spoke.

  The others looked around.

  “Not our favorite bird but a lot of his friends just ahead.” Rurur spoke pointing into the air.

  As Torag looked out he saw a flock of birds in the air at distance. “These are no hawks, they’re vultures… And they are flying above something.”

  More walking and the dwarfs came close to what was on the ground just under the vulture flock, from a distance they could see something, lying motionless. Thuor signaled for the others to quicken the pace.

  “What is it?” Rurur asked bowing to the side to see past the others.

  “Just a dead animal, look how the vultures are flying in circles right above it, my eyes don’t lie.” Torag spoke.

  Thuor stopped walking, making the others do the same. “They don’t lie, that’s for sure, but ye need to enhance your sense of deduction, master tracker.” The captain looked up and around as if trying to find something, but there were only clouds and vultures in the sky. Then he started advancing slowly, the others followed him.

  As they approached the object on the ground they could finally see what it was, the body of a dead man. The group circled it and stood there watching.

  “An unlucky one that’s it.” Torag spoke.

  The body was face down and Thuor turned him upside. A young eastern man with no sign of violence or even blood, but a broken neck and some torn clothes.

  “Goblins chased him, and shot him an arrow, that’s my guess.” Rurur said.

  “No… Do ye see any arrow or wound? This one was not killed by any arrow.” Thuor spoke. “What do ye see, Torag?”

  Torag looked around on the ground and bowed himself as he slowly circled the body looking down. “I see no footprints, and no trail of someone creeping...” He said.

  “Then he came here by magic, just appeared!” Rurur exclaimed.

  “So now everything makes sense! They disappeared from the caravan rollover, and then appeared here, as if by magic. A good magician always makes things appear again, once he has made it disappear before." Olaf said.

  “No… Something brought him here, something that doesn’t leave trails on the ground.” Thuor replied.

  “Something that flies.” Torag Whispered looking up and around. He hissed loudly and raised his arm, stood like this waiting for his bird, but it did not come.

  Thuor was thoughtful and stood in silence, staring at the body, then spoke: “This is one of the peasants from the caravan, for sure.”

  Rurur came close to him. “Why would someone, or something bring a body that far?”

  There was no answer. Everyone was feeling more or less uncomfortable, Thuor crouched and took a handful of sand from the ground, then let it slip through his fingers. Torag was still standing with his arm raised, waiting for Balfour. “Where is this clumsy bird?” He asked.

  “He is well. Probably found a rat or something to eat around, and took it to some place where we cannot bother him.” Olaf spoke.

  “This is no good omen…” Rurur whispered.

  “Let’s go.” Said Thuor clapping his hands to clean the dust.

  “What about the noon meal, captain? We have not been very punctual with meals.” Rurur said.

  “Not now, let’s advance more, it is not a good idea to eat with a dead body nearby.” Thuor replied.

  “Yes… Specially when there are nosy ones around.” Torag said.

  The captain looked at him as if expecting an explanation, Torag just pointed somewhere far away. And as the dwarfs looked out, they could see a group passing by, walking slowly and watching them.

  “Maybe just a group of travelers like us.” Rurur said.

  “Maybe…” Thuor whispered.

  The company went ahead, and a bad mood began to take everyone as if they were heading toward a danger they did not know well, but which somehow was there, lurking, waiting for them.

  Entering the Rocky Desert.

  After days of walking, the company finally reached the desert, at this moment the sun was almost touching the horizon when they came to feel the soft sand under their feet.

  “Moon will appear tonight.” Torag said.

  “Not enough for us to keep walking in the darkness.” Thuor replied looking at the sunset.

  Rurur was stroking the ram as the animal ate from a bucket hanging on his neck. “The ram is getting uncomfortable on this ground.” He said as he gently slapped the animal’s neck. “What about Balfour?”

  Torag had dismay on his face. “I hope he has landed on some tree branch out there and is just taking some rest.”

  Thuor approached a small stream and crouched there, he put his canteen underwater and filled it. “I advise ye doing the same.” He said as he walked back to the group.

  And so it was, everyone filled their canteens, Rurur took a bigger one from the saddle and filled it too.

  “There is no water in the desert, but the quantity we have will be enough for us to cross it.” Thuor continued.

  A cold wind began to blow, on the ground they could see dust flying at their knee height, vegetation was almost nonexistent and there were rocks spread everywhere. It was getting more difficult to walk, the soil was becoming softer as they advanced and none of the dwarfs were used to loose soil, even though Thuor had already travelled through these lands in the past.

  “I think I never walked in any desert before.” Olaf said.

  “And this one is quite near our Fortress. Ye should experience this world a bit more, Olaf.” Thuor spoke.

  Olaf replied: “Guess ye travelled through many deserts, captain.”

  “Not through many ones, but enough to tell some good stories. The really big deserts of this world are far to the south. There a great portion of land extends from the sea to the unknown borders on the far southeast, from the southern folk’s havens to the east of their lands. Mysterious place I would say, but I have never been there.” The captain spoke.

  “What do the stories and songs tell us about the desert, Rurur?” Torag asked.

  “From folks who live inside those rocks to creatures laying under the sands.” Rurur replied.

  “Here is a dwarf who knows the world, not by journeys but by the songs he learns.” Olaf said.

  “A comfortable way to come to know about things.” Torag spoke. “Would ye say these stories are truth?”

  “Well… I would say every legend is just a legend. And yet each one has a grain of truth. I have heard many strange things anyway…” Rurur said.

  “Oh yes… I could tell I saw many strange things. Actually, most of these things were seen not long ago.” Olaf spoke.

  “And who cares?” Torag spoke again, trying to encourage the group. “Why should we be afraid about such things? Worse than a savage one living on a rock or a monster underground, whatever it is, is a dwarf and his axe. And here are four dwarfs, enough to scare any daring one!”

  “I believe I could agree with that, master Torag. After what happened at the trade post.” Olaf replied.

  “I would still prefer to stay in peace, far from any fight like the one we had, or from any su
pposed legend that could stick or eat us.” Rurur spoke.

  “Don’t be the coward of our company.” Said Torag.

  Rurur motioned as he answered: “Well… A dwarf can come out of his halls, but this must be for a good reason. I’ve spent almost my entire life in the mountains. That’s how a dwarf likes to step, on rock and boulder, not grass or sand.”

  “That is for sure. How can someone live above a ground that smooth? How can someone set the foundations of any house on this unreliable soil? It is like building a castle on butter.” Olaf spoke.

  Torag stopped to clean his boot out of sand. “Hot during day, cold during night.”

  “Yes… This is how a desert is and it is about time for us to stop. No travelling at night without much light.” Thuor spoke.

  They stopped walking, everyone came to the ram and started taking from the saddle things to prepare a meal and accommodation. Then the four dwarfs were sitting on the ground around a small bonfire, holding dried meat skewered on sticks above the fire and drinking. The sun was gone and the night darkness covered all, around them no sound but the bonfire snaps and some crickets. When the meal ended, Thuor and Olaf rested, but Torag and Rurur began playing a board game. A kind of a chess, where the King, a large white piece, goes on the central square, surrounded by his defenders, other white pieces. The enemy, made by black pieces, are set up around the edges of the board. So one player tries to capture the king as the other tries to defend him. Torag spoke as his eyes sparkled in the firelight: “Who is this elder one on the white tower at all?”

  “Someone we are going to consult about the actual events. I’ve heard about him, in songs of course.” Rurur replied as he rubbed his chin looking down to the board, not paying much attention to Torag’s question.

  “I’m still willing to know more about this. Who is he, some kind of hermit?” Torag insisted.

  There was silence for a moment as the firelight glistened on their faces, then Thuor broke into the conversation: “He is someone who left his own folk to live in loneliness, he is from the great golden city, the eastern capital on the west of our dwellings.”

  “And why should we talk to him? Don’t we have our own wise ones?” Torag continued.

  “Yes we do.” Thuor continued as he approached. “But not as this one. He is an old watcher who came there long ago, he knows about the old kings, and about the old stories, when the world was still young. He knows the mysteries from both evil and blessedness, and he dwells high above the lands.”

  “Yes!” Rurur exclaimed. “By the way, I just remembered a song about him! We used to sing it some time ago, during drunkenness, can’t say now why I forgot about it.”

  “Maybe too much drinking.” Olaf replied from far.

  “Well… Maybe.” Rurur said and then began to sing the song.

  “Night after night,

  alone on his tower,

  the man with the wise grin

  keeps his inner power,

  but nobody wants to know him,

  they can see that he's just a wise one,

  and he never gives an answer,

  but the wise one on the tower,

  sees the sun going down,

  and the eyes in his head,

  See the world burning out.”

  “Burning out? What is this about? Some kind of malign prediction?” Torag asked.

  “This is how they used to sing the song, and how I learnt it. Who knows if it is a prophecy or not.” Rurur replied.

  “It is a long journey to reach his tower on the mountain range ridge.” Torag spoke as he moved one piece on the board game.

  “We will reach the Thick Beards’ house.” The captain said. “It is a safe passage through the mountains, and from there we can follow the Underground Path to the elder’s tower. It’s a well-known path. Besides, our Thick Beard kin patrols it, no one dares messing around on these lands, not even goblins, even the bolder ones. And it is cold there, the red goblins of these lands don’t like cold.”

  Again there was silence, the bonfire snapped as the fire flickered making the light dance.

  “We and the eastern men…” Rurur said breaking the silence after moving a piece on the game. “We are not enemies, nor do we have any strife, but they fight our cousins to the west. The Hills of Iron, the Sacred Mountain… There are disputes and quarrels in these places, and there are dwarfs against eastern men. Yet we are here, keeping a good neighbor with these folks, and even going to consult one of their elders.”

  “Well… We have our own designs. Besides… It is different when it comes to fight against goblins. The goblins wars on the west, that was some struggle in which we would for sure choose a side.” Torag spoke.

  “And yet we did not, we did nothing.” Thuor said. “We did nothing when our kin called for us. Now there are even some wild dwarfs leaving these lands to fight side to side with the forces of evil in the south, against the men of the west, to raze their cities and violate their people. I wonder how long we will still stay like that, neutral and detached, as if nothing is happening.”

  “We can do whatever we want, we are the eastern dwarfs, and none can compel us into any war! Right, Torag?” Olaf exclaimed, breaking into the chatting.

  Rurur and Torag replied with the greeting sign, raising their fists in approval.

  Thuor stood quiet, looking into the fire. “One can choose to enter a war or not, unless the war itself comes to him, and then the only choices left are fight… Or die.” He said.

  Now everyone fell silent and focused on their meals. Torag and Rurur finished the game, and this last one was victorious; then gradually and with no more speeches, everyone became slow, sleep took their bodies, the dwarfs were now looking at the fire without saying anything, each one immersed in his own thoughts, memories and predictions for the future. Even their movements became slower, being limited to rubbing of palms and reaching them towards the fire to heat, then they lay down and turned their backs to the bonfire.

  “First turn is yours, Olaf.” Thuor said already lying down.

  “Right captain!” Olaf replied playing with the hourglass in his hands. “Be sure nothing will bother ye as ye sleep. But don’t fool yourselves about sleeping even a trice too long. As soon as this sand comes all down the glass, I’m going to wake up one of ye.”

  “Be quiet!” Torag exclaimed arranging himself on the ground.

  Night advanced, right now nothing could be heard except for some crickets, the crackling of the fire and of course eventually snoring from Rurur. Olaf was sitting on the ground, leaning against the ram’s body which was also lying down, he was staring at the bonfire, wrapped in a blanket against the cold, feeling almost asleep and his sight was getting blurred. Stars could be seen and a discreet crescent moon cut the sky like a sharpened sickle, Olaf was quietly trying to sing the song he heard from Rurur before. “…Night after night… Alone on his tower… The man with the happy grin… Keeps his inner… Flower… I guess it is that…” He babbled.

  Something made a noise and caught his attention, Olaf looked away in the nearby darkness, a mosquito flew near his ear, he shook and snuggled under the blanket. Again, something nearby made a noise.

  “What is this? Hungry foxes or big bugs, I bet.” He said looking around.

  Then an even louder noise was heard, he quickly rose with a jump and wielded his axe, getting into an alert posture. “Who’s there?”

  No answer came. Torag moved and snorted on the ground; Olaf kept hearing a low sound coming from nearby, he followed it and went at some distance from the sleeping group, as he carefully listened for it he looked down and realized the noise was coming from the ground. Then he saw something, a portion of sand moving as if there was something creeping under it, the sand swelling and moving from here to there. The dwarf quietly approached it and then with a fast blow hit the ground with his axe. Something moved quickly under the ground and the sand stirred, then it disappeared, whatever it was.

  “Hunf… Damn dese
rt bugs.” Olaf said. He came back to the others, sat again leaning against the ram and wrapped himself with the blanket.

  “What was it, Olaf?” Asked Torag, motionless, still lying and revealing that he was awake.

  “Ah, nothing… Sand bugs.” Olaf replied.

  “Don’t let them eat ye.” Torag spoke sleepily.

  And so silence reigned again, the night passed.

  In the morning Thuor was the first to wake up, Torag was also already awake, Olaf was now kicking Rurur’s belly for him to wake up this one snorted and raised his torso, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

  “We need to do something about his snoring, I think all the desert creatures heard it.” Spoke Torag.

  As usual the dwarfs made their breakfast, and then prepared to leave.

  “Dumpling and jam ended, plus cheese. All that’s left is dry meat, bread and a little salt cake, food that resists time.” Torag spoke as he arranged some stuff on the ram’s saddle.

  “This is all we need for meals, and as soon as we leave the desert there will be fruits and tubers to collect.” Thuor replied looking around.

  It was a sunny morning when they began walking again, right ahead they could see the vastness of the desert to the horizon. On the left were the mountains, and on the right nothing but desert lands, from time to time Torag looked up.

  “Still not seeing him?” Olaf asked.

  “No…” Torag whispered.

  “Maybe something scared him.” Rurur said.

  Torag shook his head. “He would not flee, he would warn me first, things that can scare him can scare me too.”

  As they advanced, the ground got even softer, yet they could walk on it without much difficulty. Rurur walked as he thought about the stillness of the rock and marble halls in his home place, among all the others he was the one who most valued comfort. “Ye please don’t ask me to sing today, not under this sun, above this sand.” He said slapping his boot to clean dust from it.

  “How much time to reach the other border, captain?” Olaf asked.

  “A day or such, it is not that far a distance.” Thuor replied.