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Saturday, October 12, 2013

The Times Forgotten (Post One)

"It's too damned cold out here." The old dwarf shivered further into his fur-lined cloak and pulled his scarf up over his knobby nose.  His stubby toes were wiggling in his old but sturdy boots as they dangled over the wagon's seat edge.  His companion just looked over and chuckled at the grumpy dwarf before turning back to the reins in his hands.

"Come now, you can't say that this is anything you've never experienced before!"  He cast out a hand to gesture at the forest around them, barely white from the season's first snow.  "It's hardly cold enough to see one's own breath!"

"Aye, I feeled it afore. Dun mean I liked it."  He grumbled some more while continuing to huddle back into his cloak.  "Asides, I aint no damned surface creature."  He pounded his fist on the side of the wagon before hastily withdrawing it into his warm coverings and grumbling all the louder.

"My, if you keep scooting back into that cloak, I fear that you will plain disappear."  He reached out to pat the surly dwarf on the shoulder, still chuckling.

"I din ask ter be out here.  I din ask ter come. Aint where I'm posed to be."  His long, braided, fire-orange and grey-streaked beard waggled from under his scarf as he complained, almost like it had some life of its own.  The charms and binders woven into it clanked and chattered with the movement, the metal and stone sounding sharp against his gravelly voice, already muffled by his scarf as it was.  "I'm apposed to be at the forges.  Fire and steel are apposed ter be in my hands."  It was easy to see the dwarf's thick hands flexing under his cloak in remembrance of their tools as he spoke.  His eyes stared off distantly.

"We shall be back in the halls of the Iron Well before you know it.  Have no fear.  I understand this is not what you wanted."  He patted the dwarf on the shoulder again, only this time sympathetically.  The gruff creature hardly noticed.

Indeed the old dwarf had been the last one wanting to undertake this journey.  He had spent the last two hundred of his three hundred years among his brethren deep in the caverns of the Iron Forge, bending steel and stone to his will, shaping some of the most beautiful armor and weapons the land of Airins Gale had ever seen.  So good were they that some said they rivaled relics from the Times Forgotten, pieces created by beings of old using magics that had long since been erased from memory.  This was Baldrik Firehammer, the most renowned smith any land had seen in generations, and he did not take lightly to being pulled from his home among the fires.

His companion, a weapons master known as Alec the Blooded, had been sent with ten of his best men to escort the smith to the city of Gaewyn, the capital of Airins Gale.  The king, Haethryn of the Golden Steps, had requested an audience with a member of the Firehammer clan to thank them for their support in his war of ascension.  Since he first lit its fires, Baldrik had almost never been seen to leave the Well. That the new king was able to force the old dwarf out was just a show to help cement Haethryn's title.

"Had I knowed he's goin ter pull me out, I'da never sold tha fool boy me blades.  I can't stand none o' these politics.  Leave a nasty taste in me mouth."  Baldrik briefly pulled his scarf down and spat over the side of the wagon before covering his nose again, still fuming.  Alec watched him grimly, knowing full well that the dwarf was known for his anger and hot words, but not able to easily accept slander against his king.  Still, he kept his mouth shut.


For a while the only sound coming from the two was the constant grumbling and moaning of the dwarf.  Alec had decided it was best to leave the smith to his misery since nothing seemed to lighten the mood.  Instead he paid full attention to the woods around them.  His men had to camp a ways down the mountain face due to the dwarves' fear of drawing attention to the exact location of the entrance to the Iron Well.  So he knew that he and the smith were vulnerable in the time until they joined back up with his troop.  Baldrik could fetch a pretty penny on any day and he had made plenty of enemies in the ascension of the Golden Steps.  It was well known that his clan's work had enabled Haethryn to win the war.

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