by deSouza, Leo
The wilding dwarfs.
It took some time for the dwarfs to get ready again and start thinking about what to do. Olaf was sitting on the rock border throwing small stones on the ground ahead. “Ye see… I’m not going to leave this rock, look at this.” He said throwing a stone away, as the it touched the ground the sand in the area moved as if something was stirring under it. “They are everywhere.” Olaf spoke.
Then the dwarfs saw the ram jump to another rock, and then to another one and so on. They decided to do the same, jumping from rock to rock they travelled some distance until they reached the end of the desert and could touch grass again, Olaf was the last one to come off of the rock and jump onto the field, he seemed suspicious. “Ye see now why they made the road circling this damn sandy desert!” He said, running into the field to get far from the sands.
“I knew about those worms, but never witnessed something like this, and I did not know they could get to this size.” Thuor argued.
“Ye know what is more ironic… We were looking up for any threat that could come from the skies, yet the real threat came from underground!” Rurur broke in.
“Well… Not that bad at all, we are still alive…” Torag said raising a gem against the sun as he looked up to it. “And there is this very welcome bounty.”
“I still give more value to my own flesh then to gems.” Rurur replied slapping himself to get rid of dust.
The other dwarfs did the same.
Olaf crouched and touched the grass with his hands. “I never thought I would be so happy to be leaving the underground.”
“At least we avoided two days of travel.” Thuor spoke.
“Please captain, allow us to use the road when we come back.” Argued Olaf.
“I can promise ye that, that the returning will be more comfortable. We are entering the Thick Beards’ lands, friendly territory. Now back to the road.” Replied the captain.
The group organized and started walking again, Torag went walking as he examined the gems. “I’m quite comfortable.” He whispered to himself.
Their first task was to find water, and they did after crossing a small stream, there they drank and satisfied their dry mouths. It was noon, but not much light could be seen as there were clouds covering the sun, the landscape had changed abruptly since they left the desert, there was now grass again, trees and bushes, and everything became wilder, even some animals began to show up, like deer and flocks of birds. Right ahead there was a curve in the road surrounded by some small rock cliffs, Torag looked around as if trying to find something special. “If I was a thief, this would be the ideal place to set up an ambush for unsuspecting travelers.”
Just when he said it someone jumped from behind a rock, and on the other side of the road someone else, and as the group looked back to find an escape route, two more came from behind, surrounding them.
“What is this? Wanderer dwarfs…” Said one of the newcomers.
They were dwarfs too, but a different type. Lower and beefier dwarfs and some of them were shirtless or wearing rustic singlets that barely covered their torso, their legs were covered by thick leather skirts of a dark brown color. Thuor immediately identified them. “Be welcome, my brothers.” He said.
From behind a rock came another dwarf, this one riding a bear, a strange mount that none among Thuor’s company had ever seen. “RockFoot dwarfs, wistful and bold, wandering on wastelands.” The rider said in a strong accent as his bear mount stirred. He was a imposing dwarf, wearing a bulky fur coat, and had deep grey eyes, both sides of his head were shaven, leaving a strip of noticeably longer hair in the center. In his hand, a weapon that could only be described as a mix of sword and axe.
“Greetings, my fellow cousins.” Thuor continued raising his fist in salutation. “We are a company from the northern RockFoot Stronghold, on a journey to deal with trivial matters.” Then he turned to his own company as he motioned toward the ambushers. “These are our dear prairie cousins.”
The bear stirred and moved as his rider held its rein. “Trivial ye say… Must be really very trivial for ye to come so far, and across the desert.” The rider spoke.
“Did ye see us crossing the desert? Then ye know we were in trouble just now, dealing with sand wereworms. We are tired, and some of us are wounded.” Thuor replied pointing to Olaf’s sutured arm.
“Yes we saw ye, sinking into the sand, and then coming from under it running like a mouse from a hungry fox, coughing sand and snorting powder.” The dwarf rider said.
The other ambushers chuckled.
“And yet no one came to help us.” Torag whispered hoping that no one heard.
But they did. The rider looked at him, vexed. “We are not stupid enough to step on worm holes and maggot pits. And one who does it must deal with it by himself, not expecting help. We saw it, and we waited to see what would happen… Someway somehow ye came out.” He said as he pointed his weapon to Torag.
“A fair decision, my fellow cousin. May I ask ye now for free passage among these lands? As I said, we are traveling to deal with some business of our own.” Thuor spoke in a fine tone.
“And what is this business for? Where are ye going to deal with this?” The rider asked.
“We are going to the Red Star City, the halls of the Thick Beard kin.”
The ambushers looked at each other with suspicious looks.
“Thick Beard ye say…” The dwarf rider spoke. He stood silent for a while looking at Thuor’s company as if examining the dwarfs one by one, then spoke again: “Why don’t ye accept now the proposal I’m going to give ye. Free passage ye may have, but only under our ward. Come now, we can take ye in safety.”
“Excuse me noble sir but…” Torag was saying when the rider interrupted him.
“Enough talking! Come now, and be grateful that ye were found by us. There are many dwellers in these lands, not as friendly as we are.” He motioned his head to the other ambushers and turned to take the road.
These ones approached Thuor’s company, subtly frightening, making everyone start walking. The group went ahead on the road, led by the rider and his mount and surrounded by the watchful eyes of the captors. Thuor quickened his pace to walk beside the rider and started arguing with him, something that the others could not hear, but they noticed he kept a safe distance from the bear’s mouth.
“We are a company of dwarfs that could teach anyone about how to get in so much trouble in so little time.” Torag whispered as he took the feed bucket from the saddle and hung it from the ram’s neck.
“What are you doing? It is not time for him to eat.” Rurur said quietly.
“A ram is always hungry.” Torag replied with an insinuating look.
Rurur could see the moment when Torag took the gems from his own pockets and from the saddle and dropped them inside the bucket. That was when the ambushers started singing a strange song in unison, a song that sounded very nasty to Thuor’s company as it was sung by husky and harsh voices.
“Grab your shield,
Sharpen your axe,
For the wilding dwarfs are at pace.
Here are our steppes,
do not travel unaware in our prairies,
no master under pillars,
no underground cellar,
‘cause we are the wilding dwarfs.
The one who crosses us,
soon finds his fate.
Fortune is a foes spiky head on a pole,
peace is a sweet dream from a fools hope,
grab your shield,
sharpen your sword,
For the wilding dwarfs are at pace.”
It was during that singing that Olaf and Rurur took advantage of the captors’ distraction to put their gems in the bucket like Torag did. After some time arguing Thuor came back to his company, and spoke quietly and unobtrusively. “They are taking us to their encampment.”
“Who are these prairie lords?” Olaf asked quietly.
The captain looked around as if trying t
o ensure that the captors did not hear. “These are wilding dwarfs. Long ago, in distant eras, execrated from the halls of their own masters, purged by their Kings for disorder and subversion. They made their own settlements in the wild, not under the ground anymore but under the sun, as an affront to a past lifestyle that did not accept them anymore. We must be careful about what we do or say here.” He spoke.
“And why are they taking us?” Rurur asked.
“I don’t know. But I suspect this has nothing to do with disinterested invitation.” Thuor replied.
They took a side road, leaving the main one, the travel lasted for a while and during it the group passed by various landscapes, yet the brown grass was constant all the way. Trees, bushes and small streams, while the range of mountains could be seen as they looked east. Only in the day they reached the destination, there they could see what looked to be a surface dwarf fort. A low log wall, adorned with banners that bore some strange symbols, guarded by some sentinels in some spare simple towers. As they approached a trumpet sounded and the gate opened, they entered and were able to see much movement there, tanned leather tents and wooden buildings. There were also many dwarfs, whether men or women, or even children. Smoke was coming from ovens, some sheep were nearby trapped in a small corral, one could see many armed dwarfs, or many ones dealing with weapons in some other way; and everyone there dressed similarly to those who had captured Thuor’s company. Under the suspicious eyes of many the company passed; they reached a large tent in the settlement’s center, the scouts took the rein from Rurur.
“Hey ye… What are ye doing?” Torag asked.
“The animal will stay with the other ones, in the corral.” One of the scouts sharply replied.
Thuor quietly motioned to Torag for him to let it be. The scouts left, the rider dismounted from the bear and the animal was taken by someone else, now they entered the tent, and the rider showed them a table, inviting everyone to sit with a gesture, then he sat himself. Inside the tent many torches and weapons, shields, axes, swords of many types, everything gathered in corners as if waiting to be used.
“See master RockFoot, many weapons from many folks, men, dwarfs, goblins. We reclaim the right to acquire the spoils of war, and as ye can see our enemies are varied.” The rider said.
“Be sure we are not enemies.” Thuor replied.
The rider looked at him with a strange smile on his mouth. “Now, it is time for us to talk about business. My name is Barar, and I’m the lord of this settlement, one of the many settlements of our kind above the earth.”
“What business?” Thuor asked.
“The one ye came to treat with the Thick Beards.” Barar replied.
“Well I’m sorry to say this but I suppose this is not of your interest, my lord. It is just about trade and agreements.” The captain spoke.
“Once ye walked on our lands, it becomes a business of ours. And if it is as ye say, about trade, then I suppose it has something to do with that ram and what it has in its saddle.” Barar argued.
“Oh no. That is just for us, to keep us through the journey, there is nothing on it that could be of your interest.” Thuor replied.
Torag broke into the conversation, making Barar look at him. “Yes it is true, and it is all we have, there are our provisions and equipment. Nothing special but some stuff to keep a bunch of dwarfs on a long road.”
Barar stood still for a moment, looking into each of the four dwarf faces. He had eyes like someone who keeps calm but can turn aggressive at any time. “Thick Beard house, for sure the one of the four houses that troubles us most. We have had many problems with them, especially regarding the movement of our armed dwarfs on the roads.”
“The Thick Beard folk patrol the roads, there is no need for ye to do it too, they keep the roads safe.” Thuor replied.
Barar shook his head as he heard. “No… We do not patrol the roads, we just use them to travel. We send garrisons to the south, it’s a common use of the roads by us.”
“May I ask ye, my lord, where are these garrisons going?” Thuor asked.
“This is not a good matter to discuss now… But as I said before, we have some issues with the Thick Beard house. I see ye are an officer from RockFoot, are ye not?” Barar asked.
“Yes I am.” Replied the captain.
“Then maybe ye can help us in… Diplomatic matters.” Barar spoke.
“I will be glad to help, within my means.” Said Thuor.
“Good. Now… The thing is that, we would freely use the roads. We are not in a war with their patrols, or even with their Majesty on his sovereign throne. But we cannot put up with their behavior anymore, for it has brought us many setbacks and losses.” Barar replied.
“What do ye want me to do?” Thuor asked.
“We are about to send another garrison…” Spoke Barar as he rubbed his beard. “Tomorrow to be more exact. And we are expecting to meet some of the Thick Beard patrols on the road.”
“What is the problem? Why don’t you simply ask them for passage?” The captain asked.
“It is not that simple, they don’t like us using the roads, and they disagree about sending these troops to the south, they don’t consent.” Barar replied.
“So, ye want me to go and talk to them, asking for free safe passage, with no struggle and no blocking.” Thuor spoke.
“Yes, glad to see ye understand.” Barar replied.
“Well… I see no problem, I can talk to them.” Thuor said.
“Excellent. Ye stay here this night, and then ye come with us to the road tomorrow. I promise to dismiss ye after your generously provided services, and I promise that by tomorrow I'll think of a way to reward ye.” Barar continued. He whistled for a guard at the tent entrance calling him.
The dwarf came and stood still nearby the table.
“Take them to comfortable rooms, and serve them a good portion of our food and drink.” Barar spoke to the guard. “But ye stay here, we still need to talk about some issues.” He continued as he looked to Thuor.
Torag, Olaf and Rurur left escorted by the guard, they could hear Thuor’s voice saying something as he talked to Barar but when they got outside the tent the only sound they could hear was the noise from many dwarfs talking and doing tasks around the settlement. It was night and there were no stars visible as the sky was covered by clouds, a twisted wind was blowing.
“Come with me, I’ll take ye to the meal.” The guard said.
Rurur hastened to reply. “Thanks for the invitation.”
“I don’t think that was an invitation, Rurur.” Olaf whispered.
The guard then led them through the settlement, and all along the way the RockFoot dwarfs went looking to the place as they found everything peculiar.
“Guess where these ones are going.” Rurur spoke.
“They know about the war and they want to go there, under the patronage of a bigger lord.” Torag replied.
Olaf hissed: “Shhh! Be quiet before we get in trouble.”
The group reached a big tent where there were some long tables with chairs beside them. There some dwarfs where eating with their bare hands and no cutlery, the smell of baked meat and fat was in the air, a scene that the RockFoot ones found a little bit rude, even for dwarfs, but hunger was at pace, so they did not mind. On the center of one of the tables was a big baked deer rib joint, Rurur’s eyes shined. “Well… It seems that the visit will not end so badly.” He spoke.
Then all of them came to the table and sat, the guard whistled and called someone who came with plates and glasses, and a large bottle of a dark, thick beer. As the waiter served the beer, the dwarfs started to take pieces of meat and put them on their plates. There were also some portions of bread spread along the table and they made use of them.
“Well the captain can eat later, I don’t think we need to wait for him.” Olaf spoke biting a rib as he held it with his bare hand.
Torag looked at the guard that brought them there and noticed he was distant
enough for them to talk without being heard. “Ye heard the dwarf, the leader, the rider one. He said he would find a way to reward us tomorrow. I think that it can end up well after all.” He spoke.
“Mind ye… Maybe the reward he is considering is about not cutting our heads off.” Olaf replied.
There the group ate, drank and even laughed a bit, the whole environment seemed somewhat harsh and looks around them were not very friendly, but the food and drink made the dwarfs merry enough to ignore the rest. After a long and satisfying meal, they leaned back on their chairs rubbing their bellies and cleaning their teeth with their tongues, Torag was about to bite a last piece of meat when he stopped, looking at something up ahead out of the tent.
“What?” Olaf asked.
“My hawk!” Torag spoke wide eyed.
The group looked out to a building right in front of them, outside the tent, there upon the roof beside a window was a cage and inside it Balfour, the hawk. Torag dropped the meat on the table and pulled one wilding dwarf that was sitting close, still not taking his eyes away from Balfour. “What hawk is this? Who stole it… I mean, who is the owner?” He asked pointing to Balfour out there.
The wilding dwarf found it strange that Torag pulled his clothes, he looked at the cage on the roof. “That bird? The goldsmith found it somewhere and brought it here.”
Torag rose from his chair, but was held by Olaf. “Where are ye going? The captain told us to stay meek.” This last one spoke.
“I’m going to my bird! Meekly…” Torag whispered still looking at the cage.
“It is not that simple, we must open a contest.” Olaf replied. “You cannot go there and take the bird.”
“Who said anything about taking it?” Torag asked. He looked at the guard and saw him distracted while talking to some dwarf women, then he left, and the others lost him from sight.
Olaf and Rurur stood there still resting from the meal for some time, then came Thuor from behind and touched their shoulders. “I hope ye have something left for me.” The captain said as he sat, there he filled a glass with beer and prepared to eat. “The conversation with Barar was demanding, he is kind of sturdy, and more stubborn than normal for a dwarf…”