The Eastern Dwarfs: Part One - The Red Fields Page 6

  Thuor looked at Torag as if telling him not to interrupt this time, then spoke to the man: “We would like to ask, about any different event that happened. Visitors, strangers from other lands.”

  Torag was now looking around as he watched people drinking and eating on the tables. He saw some kinds, no woman at all, but some men, sitting as they ate and talked, some smoking pipes, some drinking beverages, some doing both. But these folks did not seem to be unfriendly in any way, they were just common people. The bartender had one hand on the desk and rubbed his shoulder with the other one as he looked down like trying to remember something. “I could not tell much, as most of the time I’m here inside, paying attention on clients demands but from what I have heard from them, I would say there is nothing different happening outside, except for news from the west part of these lands, the big capital of the kingdom of the eastern men, rumors about moving armies.” He replied.

  “Ye are also an eastern man.” Thuor argued.

  Now the bartender smiled showing his rotten teeth. “Oh yes, that is for sure. But we are peasants and farmers, we live in no city and serve no master, like their King on his golden throne.”

  “Ye seem to be very avid in denying to be under their rule, not that this is something bad.” Thuor spoke.

  The man crossed his hands. “As much as I’m related to my own kind, some of us prefer to live far from things like struggle… And war. And yet we are loyal to our folk.”

  “Alright, this is all for now. Have a good day, sir.” Thuor said as he turned to leave.

  “Where are you going to stay this night? We do have good quarters for your kind.” The man spoke.

  Thuor turned his torso back to answer as he walked outside the tavern. “This is of no need. We are leaving.”

  “Well, farewell then, master dwarf. Good luck on the road.” The man replied.

  The captain waved a last time for the man and he and Torag walked across the room to leave the tavern. “It seems ye passed too much time out of duty, Torag. Interrupting your captain during conversations.” Thuor said.

  “Excuse-me, captain.” Replied Torag embarrassed.

  They went outside, there was Rurur trying to cuddle the hawk as the animal tried to bite his finger. Olaf was just sitting on a nearby barrel.

  “He does not like cuddles from strangers, Rurur.” Torag said as he approached and took the bird.

  “Already? I thought it would take more time to talk to many people.” Olaf said.

  “We did not talk to many people, as we do not want to raise suspicions and spread rumors among the peasants. These are poor peasants, and everything for a poor person is a trade, including information, they will not tell us anything unless we offer something back.” Thuor replied.

  “If ye say so, captain. What now? I would not mind about some meal.” Olaf spoke.

  “Me neither.” Rurur said as he rubbed his belly.

  “Right, let’s find a good clean place and set up camp.” Thuor replied.

  The group distanced themselves from the tavern to a nearby large tree, under it they set up camp, tied the ram and started taking some packages from the saddle. Thuor had gathered some twigs and straw and was now lighting a small bonfire, sausages and bread came out from the packs and in no time the dwarfs were sitting around the fire as they ate. There were also some nuts that Rurur had remembered to ask the keeper of the larder for. Now it was already noon, and after the meal they got silent, for a while it was all about smoke coming from the bonfire and from their pipes, then talking started again.

  “Why don’t ye tell us about ye? Dear Olaf.” Torag asked.

  Olaf shook his head. “For the same reason ye would not tell about yourself.”

  “I could tell a lot about me.” Torag replied.

  “Why don’t ye do so?” Olaf asked.

  “Well… Why not? And how could I start? Ye know me from the barracks, and from the archery range. But I was not always a warrior, I once was a miner, and a dedicated comrade.” Torag replied.

  “Tell us then about your mining.” Olaf said.

  The captain looked at Torag with a thoughtful looking.

  Torag continued: “Ye were too young to remember, the floods, on the winter of that year… The miners dug beneath the river, and then came the great flood. Many ones of our folk died, including some friends.”

  Olaf suddenly became serious. “I remember this, and I remember what they told us.”

  “What happened?” Rurur asked.

  Torag was now lying on the ground, leaning on one elbow, he puffed his pipe and spoke: “I left just a moment before the water came in from the crack… It was luck after all.”

  “Guess ye are grateful for not being there when it happened.” Olaf spoke.

  “I was not... Luck… As I said…” Replied Torag.

  “Did ye manage to take anyone from there?” Olaf continued.

  Thuor was quietly hearing everything as he smoked.

  “Oh yes… I took many of them from the water. They are all in the cemetery now, water was faster than me to get my comrades.” Torag replied.

  Olaf looked down and nodded slightly. “Then ye came into the army.”

  “Then I came into the army.” Torag said looking down and taking the pipe to his mouth.

  Rurur decided that it was a good time change the subject, he clapped once. “What now, captain?”

  “We will take the rest of the day to rest. I’m going to talk to the peasants at the tavern tomorrow morning. They gather there every morning, I have something in mind…”

  And so it was, the company stood there resting, something that made everyone happy as it was the first rest they took since they left the Stronghold. Each one of them made a different activity during the afternoon, but some things were common to them all, like smoking pipes and chatting. Torag distanced from the group to play with his hawk, always throwing it in the air and receiving it back on his arm. It was a calm and pleasant time for the dwarfs, and they felt specially comfortable when lying on the grass under the shadow of the tree, waiting for time to pass. When night finally came, they had their last meal and went to sleep, a placid sleeping, yet with one of them always watching.

  The lost caravan.

  On the next morning Olaf woke up to see Thuor and Torag already standing as they talked low. He rose and stretched as he yawned, then bowed to take his backpack from the ground and kicked Rurur’s ribs, this one was still sleeping. “Wake up you lazy dwarf.” Said Olaf.

  Torag looked at them. “It is not that easy to wake him up. I tried two times before ye.”

  Olaf rubbed his eyes, then crouched near Rurur and gave him a strong slap in his face. “Wake up you fat marmot!”

  Rurur woke up in a scare and rose his torso from the ground, then looked around as if trying to see what hit him.

  “Good… Now take that fat ass from the ground, it is already day.” Olaf continued.

  Sunshine was coming and the first sunbeams came from behind the mountains on the horizon, it was still a little bit cold and the dew covered the grass, as well as Rurur’s beard. There was a damp wind in the air and the first birds to sing started their choir.

  “He snores and farts like a pregnant sow.” Torag said approaching and taking his backpack from the ground to his back.

  “We must hurry. Those peasants wake up early.” Thuor spoke untying the ram from the tree.

  “What exactly are we going to do with them?” Olaf asked.

  “Ask them about something without letting them know what it is about.” Thuor explained.

  The group gathered the stuff and went to a small freshwater stream, there Olaf and Rurur washed their faces and everyone could fill their canteens, then all the dwarfs came back to the road, towards the tavern. From a distance they could already see many peasants gathering near the building, carts and tools; there were also some animals, white oxen to drag the carts. As they approached, Thuor recognized the bartender among the crowd of people, he was serv
ing hot tea for some peasants and the dwarf waved to him as they passed. The peasants were gathering to prepare for the day’s work, from there they would spread around to the fields to start harvesting and weeding. Thuor found a small barrel and rose on it under the surprised look of its owner, there he coughed before speaking. “Good morning, my dear countrymen. I come from the Northern Fortress, from the RockFoot house. And as ye know, these are our lands, ye are here under the grace of our king who allows ye to harvest these lands.”

  Everyone stopped and looked at him in silence.

  Thuor continued his speech. “But don’t ye worry. I did not come to pester or charge. I came to know about ye, and about your work. As ye might know, the glorious sovereign of these lands is benevolent, and strict, he wants to know about the production on his lands… I’m sent from the fortress to ask ye about your work conditions, so now it is time for ye to tell me, anything that is bothering ye, or that is a hindrance to your work. Ye can tell me, and I promise we will take all the measures to fix things for ye. So what say ye?”

  For a moment there was silence and some peasants looked at each other as if confirming what they had just heard. A man who was seriously looking at Thuor said loudly: “There is those damn locusts devastating our reed!”

  There was noise and nods as people agreed.

  “All right ye… Locusts ye say… I will take that on note.” Thuor spoke pointing to the man. “Anything else?

  A woman shouted: “Nosy crows, they come at afternoon and steal the grains.”

  Again there were nods and noise.

  “Right, thief crows, that is… What about loose animals? Some eater pigs? Or anything bigger?” Thuor insisted.

  Some among the crowd whispered to each other as if commenting on something, then finally a man spoke: “My cousin Malmas told me about ruminants grazing around.”

  The captain pointed to the man from above the barrel. “What type of ruminant?”

  The man frowned to reply: “Well herm… He did not tell me… Actually, I think he did not even see. But one thing is for sure, he saw its footprints, big ones, like… From a very big ram… O no… Too big for a ram, maybe another animal, like great beasts.”

  Torag chuckled as he heard, he broke into the talking: “And why do ye think such animals would come to this part of our lands? They are from far south.”

  “Maybe something is scaring them!” Another man shouted.

  “Yes! My brother in law told me he saw strange things, like big shadows passing under the moonlight, like from big wings… Some days ago.” Another one said.

  A voice sounded among the people: “This is foolishness, your brother in law is dreaming about dragons!”

  A noise took the ambient as people spoke.

  “Be calm!” Thuor said as he motioned his hands. “Where are these men? The cousin, and the brother in law. I want to talk to them.”

  “They left! With the caravan to the Trade Meeting Post, to the south.” The man replied.

  “When?” Thuor insisted.

  The man rubbed his head and snorted: “Hunf… A few days ago. The caravan was heading south and would reach the post, for trade with folks there.”

  “What about more grain? Or more plows? It would be good if your majesty give us some.” A voice said.

  A noise took the crowd again, people stirred and argued.

  “All right! All right! This is all for today. Thank ye gentlemen.” Thuor said coming down from the barrel.

  As he passed among people one of the men who spoke to him approached. “Hey you master dwarf. What about your King? Is he willing to reward us for the good services rendered to his kingdom? We plow the land and we watch the harvest, and we always honor our commitments to the north palace.”

  “That is something I must inform him about, but your majesty is benevolent.” Thuor replied not giving the man much attention.

  “Oh! Benevolent! I’m sure he is! And I trust him. I’m going to wait for his good will, for sure!” The man replied.

  “Yes, wait for it.” Said the captain, he came out of the crowd and motioned to the other dwarfs to follow him. They left the place and went back to the road, and after some time walking Thuor spoke as they were already far enough to no one hear them. “Ye see how difficult is to take information from these people.”

  “I guess we are going after this caravan.” Olaf spoke.

  “That’s right. Ye are right.” Thuor replied.

  Then the group hit the road again. As always the captain led the company, Rurur came at the back stroking the ram.

  Olaf hissed and clapped before saying: “A new day for a new song, master Rurur!”

  “Is that true!” Rurur exclaimed. “And there is a good one for this occasion, as I was already planning to sing. It is called The Scourge of the East.” He coughed clearing his throat and took a sip of water from a canteen, then started singing.

  “Oh the bold warriors.

  The old heroes of the past times

  With their conquests they marveled the world

  and made their enemies’ mothers cry,

  For they are the scourge of the east

  and no kind dare facing their eyes.

  Rolling heads,

  Cut tripes,

  Blood and pain,

  Death and disgust.

  They bring the despair to their foes

  And the glory to their brothers

  For they are the scourge of the east

  And no kind dare facing their eyes.”

  He finished the song and bowed himself in greeting.

  “It’s getting uncomfortable.” Olaf spoke.

  Torag nodded in agreement. “Why did ye say this one was appropriate for this occasion? We do not need any inspiration for fights, as we are not going to fight anyone… I guess.”

  “Well… Just in case we come to need. But count on me in hoping it will not happen.” Rurur replied.

  “I suppose this is the time when we stop for our breakfast.” Olaf said.

  “I was about to tell this.” Thuor replied.

  The group left the road to a small nearby clearing under some trees and there they arranged some baskets and bowls to serve the food, in no time the four dwarfs we sitting around the meal as they ate. Dry meat and a very greasy type of cottage cheese, no fire to warm the meal. Torag was feeding Balfour the hawk on his shoulder with some small meat pieces when Thuor took something from inside one of the packages and raised it to his eyes height to examine it. “What is this?” He asked.

  Olaf looked at it as he chewed. “Salt cake from King's banquet.”

  “Yes it is, I asked the keeper for it, some was left after the banquet.” Rurur spoke full mouthed.

  The ram was lying nearby, now Thuor took a bottle from the saddle and stared at it while holding a piece of meat with the other hand. “And what about this… Mead. Did ye ask for this too?”

  “Oh yes… I mean, she offered, and I took.” Rurur replied.

  “Ain't that useful for a party like us, and weighs the animal.” Spoke the captain. He bit the stopper and spat it out, took several sips making his throat move and emitting guttural sounds. Then he cleaned his mouth with his arm and reached the bottle out to Olaf.

  The entire party drank, and at the end of the meal Thuor ordered Rurur to keep the empty bottle among the things on the saddle, then they gathered everything again and went to the road one more time. The travel continued as the dwarfs walked by the path, the sun was getting high and the heat made them sweat, it was an uncommonly hot autumn day and the dwarfs were not used to the sun and long travels under it. As they advanced the landscape did not change, fields and trees, rocks and bushes. Thuor and Torag were used to leaving the fortress, but for Olaf and Rurur that travel was something uncommon, for they had not left the RockFoot halls for a long time, and never in such a vigorous enterprise.

  “Now, tell us about yourself, master Olaf.” Torag said.

  Olaf coughed to reply. “That is fair. Ye
told about yourself, now we must tell about ourselves.”

  “If ye want to.” Torag spoke as he walked.

  “Well there is not much to tell. Ye know me, I was born in the same halls as ye, and ate the same food and drank the same water.” Olaf continued.

  “And what was your role? Or have ye always been a vagabond?” Torag asked.

  Olaf laughed. “Vagabond? Do ye know the north retaining wall in our fortress? Yes! Planned and executed by Olaf, master of building.”

  “A dwarf foreman! Who could say… Never saw ye working anywhere in there.” Torag spoke.

  “Well I’m retired… At least this is what they told me, seems they did not find my work useful anymore.” Olaf replied.

  “I know what ye mean.” Torag said quietly.

  They travelled for the entire morning, Rurur and Olaf felt much tiredness, but still continued walking without complaining, water was drunk from canteens, and many forearms dried the sweat of the brows. It was about noon when Balfour the hawk began to croak while still perched on Torag’s shoulder.

  “What is it?” Thuor asked as the group stopped.

  Everyone was sweating and squinting their eyes to cover from sun light. Torag then made a thrust with his arm throwing the hawk in the air, the bird went away flying. “He sees something.” Spoke him.

  “Good omen, I hope.” Rurur whispered.

  After a few moments Torag pointed at the hawk on high. “Ye see... He is circling again, there is something down there.”

  They quickened the pace and went along the road as the ram trotted, and after they covered some distance they could see something nearby the roadside ahead. Thuor approached to check what was some overturned wagons as the other dwarfs kept some distance, he took a basket from the ground and examined it, then turned to the other ones raising it, they came close. “It is the caravan.” The captain said.

  “What happened?” Rurur asked still pulling the ram’s rein.

  Torag put his hand above his eyes and looked up, then whistled loudly and kept his arm in the air, the hawk came down and landed on it. “This is what he is seeing since before. He saw the caravan and flew in circles above it.”