by RG Long
Most of their group had learned to stuff cloth in their ears, or else pray that they fell asleep before the monstrous snores of the dwarf. Ealrin went to give him a good kick.
"Wake up, Gorplin," he said as he opted to nudge the dwarf instead of give him a good blow. One morning he had attempted to roughly wake the dwarf and had been put on his back by a very irate dwarf with a very skilled leg swipe.
He stirred, but only long enough to stifle a snore. His inhale of breath shook the leaves.
"If you don't stop that snoring you'll scare away anything that might have been breakfast, Gorplin," Ealrin said again in a louder voice.
He noticed that the birds, which just moments ago had been heralding the morning, had stopped their song.
"Lazy dwarf," Ealrin said again as he looked out through the tree trunks and moved over to wake Tory instead.
Then he felt it.
The birds were quiet, which he had expected.
But so was the entire forest.
Something was wrong.
He slowly knelt down next to Tory and shook him, hard.
"Wake up, Tory," Ealrin said in a harsh whisper.
Tory opened his eyes and blinked a few times.
"Slept like a rock..." he began to say before Ealrin covered his mouth.
He wrested Ealrin's hand away.
"Hey now! What's wrong with you...?"
Looking up, Tory saw the concern on Ealrin's face as he scanned the area around them. His hand went to the blade at his side. Ealrin pulled his own sword out of its sheath as quietly as he could.
Then a twig snapped behind them.
Ealrin and Tory jumped to their feet, weapons drawn and pointed at the direction of the sound. As he did so, Ealrin let out a yell that he hoped would stun whatever it was sneaking up on their camp and wake up their companions.
His fierce battle cry seemed a little awkward, however, when he realized that it had been directed at two halflings.
Jurgon and Jurrin stood with their hands in the air, both wearing expressions of sheer terror.
Jurrin was finally able to stammer out "Don't... Don't shoot!"
Ealrin stood puzzled. He wasn't going to shoot them. His sword dropped as soon as he saw them. Then he noticed that neither of them was looking quite at him or Tory. They both were looking over his shoulder.
Turning, Ealrin saw that Lote had three arrows in one hand, while the other held back one strung to her bow.
She wore the look of one who has their prey targeted and was about to shoot. And even though Ealrin knew that she had ample time to lower her bow, her expression remained unchanged.
"Why have you followed us?" she demanded.
Ealrin was shocked to see her continue to point her bow at the two. They posed no threat. At least not any Ealrin could imagine.
"Lote..." he began.
She shook her head.
"I'll have the answer to my question," she said, cutting him off. Her eyes never left the pair of still horrified little folk. "Has Allet decided he wanted no one to know of his peaceful settlement?"
"Beg pardon ma'am," Jurrin managed. His voice was dry and he seemed like he was ready to pass out. "We mean no harm to you."
"Then you will explain what you're doing here," Lote said.
Jurgon slowly put his hands down. Ealrin saw that they wore travel packs. Both of them had small daggers at their sides and looked ready for a long journey, a much longer one than following their former guests through the forest.
"Was all that you said about a war and some person wanting to kill off all the other races true?" Jurrin asked.
"All of them except humans that is, ma'am?"
Ealrin heard in Jurrin's voice both curiosity and fear.
Even though their knees were still shaking a little bit, he also could see the signs of someone who is determined beyond sensibility.
Lote finally lowered her bow and let the string go slack.
"Yes," she said. "It's true."
The two halflings breathed a sigh of relief as the threat of being peppered with arrows disappeared.
"I've seen it firsthand," Ealrin added. "Men driven to madness and violence doing what they think is right. Brother turned against a brother with no better reason than a madman's ramblings."
Ealrin saw Tory look down at the ground.
"Thousands have already died because of this lunacy. Elves, dwarves and anyone else who doesn't see it the way Androlion does. "
Ealrin thought for moment of all the friends he had lost so far in this struggle. He looked around at his companions and wondered how many he was still to lose.
"But I've also seen," he continued. "Brave warriors of all races fight for justice and for peace. I have watched them lay down their lives defending those who can't defend themselves. They fought because they believe that we are better when we embrace our differences. They fought for unity."
Ealrin returned his sword back to its sheath.
He looked at Jurrin and saw that the little halfling was clenching his jaw and had rolled his hands in the fists. His expression didn't change as he spoke.
"We've come to fight, too, sir."
WHEN THE ENTIRE PARTY had woken up and began to gather their supplies, they talked about what to do with the arrival of the halflings.
Some saw them as a burden, while others thought they might prove useful on their journey.
Lote fell into the former category.
"We've already got one set of short legs that hold us back from going faster," she said, pointing a thumb at Gorplin. The dwarf was none too perturbed by the insult.
Jurrin had managed to kill two rabbits and Jurgon was busy cooking them over the coals of the previous night's fire.
"Short legs or no," Gorplin said licking his lips. "We bring the halflings. We need their skills!"
Tory rolled his eyes.
"You mean you want them to cook for your greedy belly," he said as he hoisted his pack on his back.
"Either way," Tory continued. "We need to get going. I'm ready to see that mountain."
Jurgon looked with satisfaction on the cooked rabbit meat and passed the spitted breakfast to Gorplin. The dwarf would have eaten the whole thing had Tory not swiped it from him.
Jurrin, who had been handing Jurgon spices from his pack, replaced all the canisters, brushed his hands off and approached Lote.
"Beg pardon, ma’am," he said. "We followed you so we could join you. You talked about people who wanted to kill others just because they're a different race. That's not right, ma’am."
Ealrin chuckled as he looked over at the scene unfolding.
Lote was the consummate soldier. He knew she would follow orders to her death. She was skilled beyond any of her peers with her bow. Then there was Jurrin. A halfling who, up until a few days ago, had probably never known what it was like to be in a real battle.
Until Lote shot him. A bandage was still wrapped around his wound.
"We want to do right, ma’am," he persisted. "Mayor Allet may think he's doing us a favor by keeping away from everyone, but we don't think so. We want to do something to help."
Lote took a deep breath and looked around at everyone, packs on his or her back, and ready to march.
Ealrin met her eyes and smiled.
One side of her lips turned up slightly.
"We'll not slow our march for you two," she said, looking down at Jurrin with his hands on his suspenders. "You understand?"
The halfling's eyes lit up.
"Oh, yes ma’am! We understand!" He turned back to his friend. "Right, Jurgon?"
Through a mouthful of rabbit, the halfling half agreed and half spit his answer.
"Yup!"
Apparently, Jurgon was a halfling of few words.
Tory shook his head and began to follow Lote, who had turned to begin marching down the trail.
"What a motley crew we've turned into," he said.
"Speak for yourself," Gorplin countered, picking a piece of
rabbit meat out of his teeth with the point of his dagger.
JURRIN AND JURGON DID in fact keep pace with the company throughout the day's march. Some of that was due to the slowing of their pace by Lote. Unbeknownst to the halflings, their new elf leader had given them a little reprieve and not kept the pace they had for the past week.
Gorplin was both relieved and insulted.
"Bah. She'll slow down for these little folk, but not for a dwarf, eh?" he steamed and complained.
Ealrin paid him little mind.
"You said you would rather shave than let her walk faster than you could. Or did I hear you wrong?" Ealrin reminded Gorplin.
"Bah," he said as he picked up his own pace.
Ealrin chuckled as he watched him run. There wasn't much difference between a dwarf walking quickly and a dwarf running. Both were rather humorous.
As he walked, Ealrin found himself next to Gaflion.
The man had been a bit of an enigma to Ealrin. He was not one to speak much, though when he did the wisdom of his years was invaluable.
They were at the back of the group, so Ealrin thought he might get to know him better.
"Gaflion," he began, not really knowing if calling him sir was proper or not. "How did you come into the service of Thoran?"
Ealrin looked over at him as he marched. He had a few gray hairs mixed with the brown that covered his head. A bushy mustache that had become less pristine with their journey was the only hair on his face. Even on the road, Gaflion had managed to shave his stubble with his knife.
That was something Ealrin was not keen to try, and so had some scruff beginning to grow on his face and neck. He rubbed at it as Gaflion sniffed hard and wiggled his mustache.
"I was a contemporary of His Majesty, Thoran the IV, Master Ealrin. It would be suffice to say that we served together in the army during his early years. We served as protection for the people of Thoran. There was no need for a large military presence. A sentiment shared by him and his own father. Those were peaceful times and, unfortunately, were soon forgotten after he ascended to the throne."
The company continued to march on. It was nearing midday and Ealrin knew that their meal would be had while they trekked on. The suns were warming the moderate day from up above them and, as they turned to the left, they saw through a break in the trees the mountain range they had been walking towards for half a month.
It loomed ahead of them. Just the top was visible to them at this point. The gate, which Lote was sure they would reach before nightfall, was still hidden in the trees.
"I have long served the king as an advisor in both times of war and of peace," Gaflion continued. "It was I who recommended Master Holve become a general in His Majesty's army. I also helped to train the young princess once it became clear to her mother that the typical duties of a queen would not befit her."
Ealrin had to shake his head to comprehend a few different things Gaflion just revealed.
"Wait," he interrupted. "You knew Teresa's mother? And you told the king to allow Holve to be a general, even though he wasn't a native of Thoran?"
"His Majesty's bride," he replied with a look of sadness in his eyes. "Yes I knew her very well. She was my younger sister."
Ealrin stopped walking altogether.
"What? Then you must be..."
"Madam Teresa's uncle. Correct."
"But... But..." Ealrin could hardly make this right in his head. He had never heard Teresa refer to Gaflion as a relative. She never spoke of him other than his abilities on the battlefield and his council to her.
She never called him family.
Gaflion turned back to Ealrin, since he had walked a few paces ahead of him.
"Her Majesty, the princess of Thoran, was trained by me. I believe she saw me more as a commanding officer than an uncle. I cannot blame her for that. I never showed her much affection. I suppose it is my own fault. She too closely resembles my sister for my tastes."
Ealrin shook his head again and walked on.
"Too closely resembles her? What do you mean?"
"Surely you know that the former queen has been dead for some time, Master Ealrin?"
"Uh..." Ealrin said slowly. He knew a little on that topic.
The portraits he had seen in the halls of Thoran had included the queen. He had used many of them as markers in trying to navigate the castle.
But the queen was nowhere included in any paintings or tapestries with her adult children. Ealrin assumed some unfortunate event had occurred, but had never asked what.
Gaflion shook his head sadly.
"I'll not speak on the matter, as my heart cannot bear having to repeat the story. Suffice to say that she died when it was unnecessary. Both my heart and the king's were broken. For His Majesty, Teresa was his pride and joy. A reminder of the beauty of his bride. For me..."
Gaflion coughed into his hand. Ealrin wasn't sure if it was to clear his throat or his mind.
"For me, seeing Teresa only reminded me of my sister's untimely death and those responsible. I am a broken man whenever I am in her presence."
He paused a moment.
"Instead of going off to battle with her as my second in command, serving among my soldiers, I begged the king to allow me to stay and offer council when needed. I gave up the title of King’s Swords. Instead, I was his adviser, one who was too remorseful of the past to do much good in the present."
Silence permeated the air for several moments.
Finally, Gaflion continued.
"Some men fight for family. Others, for peace. I suppose the reason I am at the service of her Madam Teresa is to bring back times of peace that were stolen from the current generation. My own peace was taken from me long ago."
Ealrin noticed that conversation towards the front of the company had halted as well.
"Do big folk always have such sad tales to tell?" Jurrin asked Jurgon, wiping a tear from one of his eyes.
He looked back at Gaflion and turned red from embarrassment.
"Begging your pardon, sir,” he said. "I must have forgot that I was eavesdropping."
Gaflion sniffed loudly and looked down at the halfling.
"You've nothing to fear, little Master Jurrin," he said kindly and his deep voice. "No, I am afraid that mine is not the only sad tale that could be shared amongst this company. You may have your own before our quest is complete."
"Bah," Gorplin said, though he was breathing heavy from trying to show Lote how quickly he could walk. His sentences were short.
"Don't scare them. We haven't even run into trouble. Not that I wouldn't mind. Been looking forward to a fight."
"You won't fight well wheezing for breath," Lote chided him. "Let's have lunch."
"Food is definitely the best way to lighten my spirits," Bertrom said happily.
Lote was in rare form and allowed them all a chance to sit and rest while they ate. This act proved she was so sure they would reach the mountain gate before supper.
"You're going to be this kind when you and I march north, right?" Tory asked her through a mouthful of berries they had found along the trail.
"That depends on how quick you walk in between meals and if you stop referring to me as that long-legged, pointy eared she elf," she retorted.
Tory nearly choked on his lunch and Bertrom had to hit him several times on the back before he stopped coughing.
"Elf ears," Gorplin muttered under his breath.
"I heard that also," Lote said, standing to her feet with a rare smirk on her face. "That's enough rest. Let's get moving."
The smile died away as quickly as it came. Lote stood like a statue staring back the way they had come.
Ealrin noticed and tried to follow her gaze down the path.
There was nothing there he could see, other than the trail that curved to the right slightly in the distance.
"What do you see, Lote?" Ealrin asked in a low voice.
She silenced him with a shush and held her finger to her lips.
Ealrin noticed that, once again, the forest had gone quiet.
In the distance, some ways down the trail, he heard a low rumbling roar.
"Run," Lote commanded and began to sprint down the trail towards the mountain.
14: A Threat in the Trees
They ran as quickly as they could from the faceless roar that grew ever closer.
"What is that thing?" Bertrom yelled as the company sprinted down the trail.
"A monster I've not heard for a hundred years!" Lote shouted back "Faster!"
Low hanging tree branches smacked Ealrin in the face as he ran down the path. His legs were caught every now and then by a stray vine or root that grew across the dirt path that marked their way.
As they sped along the trail, Ealrin noticed that what was once dirt under his feet was now becoming stone. Not the rough-hewn stones that fell from mountains, but paving stones.
They were close to the gate.
Up ahead the trail made a sharp left. As he rounded the bend, Ealrin saw the fortification that marked the border between the two countries.
An arched gate that looked like the entrance to a castle came into view. On either side of the archway, a giant stone wall blended into the two mountains that rose up to the north and south. The wall was at least three stories tall. A solid iron gate was opened tall enough for a man riding a horse to pass through unhindered. Pillars and archways lined the last stone's throw of the path, marking it to be an ancient and once glorious entryway. It had now nearly fallen into ruin.
Ealrin could see guards walking along the top wall with spears in their hands, wearing red uniforms with a black crest on their chests that was impossible to discern from their distance.
Some people not dressed in any uniform were milling about the entrance of the gate.
Lote was shouting at them urgently!
"To arms! Troll! Defend the gate!"
Ealrin glanced over his shoulder to see that Gorplin, Jurrin, and Jurgon were bringing up the rear.
At the same time he saw, making the turn and not a stone’s throw away from the three stragglers, a giant monster that he could only guess was a troll.
The thing was twice as tall as he was. Its gray skin was similar to that of the goblins they had fought in the past. Like a goblin, it had a huge mouth, large ears, and black hair covering it in places. Unlike the smaller monsters, its torso was elongated and its arms were easily as long as its whole body.