Elvenshore: 03 - Elf's Bane (18 page)

It was the first t
ime that Sarchise had seen the mountain close up. He had only seen at a distance and through the mists that seem to rise above the forests of the land. It was even taller than high mountain, and he knew his Dwarves would be wondering what type of treasures lay inside.  The mountain had snow on it that was thick at the top and then as it came down the mountain, it got thinner, and clung to the rocks that jetted out. The foothills were lush with vegetation but when it got to the mountain, it was just bare gray jagged rocks.

The Elves caught up and camped next to the Dwarves later that day. That night a brilliant the Dwarves lit a bonfire and it brightened up the night sky. Verian and Istuin made their way over there to see what was happening. The Dwarf hunters had been sent out after camp had been set up and had found plenty of game in the forest around Morgus Tier.  Sarchise had broken out the ale he had been saving for a special occasion. His men had been through a lot and now a grueling two day march to top it off.

Sarchise had decided that his army needed a rest and so he ordered a feast, since they had plenty of food. All of the dead wood that could be found in the forest was brought to the pit the Dwarves had dug.  They made a bonfire to rival those that had been seen in the great halls of the Dwarves.
The food was passed around and when everyone had eaten then the traditional songs started.

While sitting in our mountain, to our delight,

The Elves of the Far Shore asked us to fight

With a great and powerful enemy

And so we sailed over the Stormy Sea

The enemy was evil and he was tall

They made us hide behind a wall

Azram was the one to cut off a toe

But only Sarchise could kill the foe

The first of many hails was a "Hail Sarchise
!” and then everyone drained their mugs. There were no server maidens traveling with the army so the newly recruited Dwarf warriors would have to do for servers. Sarchise had his ale watered down the way Fawn had taught him, so he would not end up as drunk as he had in the past.

Verian came up to him and Sarchise invited him and Istuin to sit down. Immediately, the Elves were given mugs and instructed in the traditions of the hails. Every time someone hailed someone it was time to drain
the mugs.

"Hail
, Verian," Sarchise yelled as he held up his mug. His men followed by calling out, "Hail Verian" and everyone drained their mugs. The servers refilled all of the mugs and then someone else was hailed.

Soon Verian and Istuin were decidedly drunk and stumbled back to their tents. That didn't stop the Dwarves from continuing the feast and it
went on into the night. The next morning Verian slept late, not wanting to come out of his tent with his head so hung over. He looked out the flap of his tent to see how the Dwarves were faring and to his amazement;they didn't seem to have been affected by it at all
.

A Human rider came into camp
in the morning and so Verian had to go see what he had to report. He was holding his aching head, but not moaning. Istuin, however, was moaning and complaining and he didn't care who heard it. When Sarchise arrived to hear what the messenger said, he seemed to be fine.

"How can you be that well
? You had more to drink than I did.?" Verian asked.

"
In all my time with the Dwarves I have learned how to handle my ale."

Verian just shook his head and Istuin let out another groan.

The messenger was looking around the group, not quite understanding what had happened in the night, but needing to give his report anyway. "The Trolls have barred the doors. Our history tells us that when they barred the doors last time, they no longer came out to attack, up until the time that the Elves moved to the mountain. Aron and his men will come in tomorrow as he thought that you would be in front of the mountains by then."

Verian spoke up, "Tell Aron to give us three days
; we will rest our forces here until tomorrow and then get an early start."

"Very well
. " The messenger got on his horse and rode off.

The Elves and Dwarves stayed in camp that entire day with some of the Elves inspecting the ruins of
Morgus Tier. The once proud town had all of its walls still intact except for the one section that the Trolls had knocked down. They also searched for the body of Bellios and found his remains against the wall next to the corner of the wall. Istuin looked down sadly at him. “He stayed behind to slow down the enemy; that is what got him killed.”

Verian replied, “In the end it did not matter whether he stayed behind or not, the Trolls wanted to destroy the buildings more than they wanted to kill at that point.”

“So much senseless destruction, as Chancellor Kolis said, only because we wanted some wine like we had in Elvenshore.” Istuin said.

“Kolis is a very negative person, but this time, correct,” Verian replied.

Verian had some of his men remove the body of Bellios and some of the other dead that they found in the town and bury them on the hill where the Humans had buried their dead. They then left out the gate. It was hard to maintain morale when they whole world of the Elves had been destroyed.

Sarchise had seen the completeness of the destruction and could only imagine the beauty of the town when the Elves were in their heyday.

In the morning
, both camps packed up and marched out together. The Elves were having to walk slow to let the Dwarves keep up. They respected the Dwarves and enjoyed their company. Heads still aching from the ale, Istuin and Verian vowed to never go to another Dwarf bonfire. Marching through the forest was a different experience for the Dwarves. In Elvenshore there were trails, but no roads; here there was a well-kept road. They came across a swath of broken trees. They surmised that this is where to Trolls had come through on their way to and from the mountain.

They camped that night in the middle of the forest. It was a thick forest with a lot of undergrowth and it was hard to find enough room for both of the
armies  off the road. When the Dwarves saw that the Elves simply cut out the underbrush to make room, they followed suit. Soon everyone was settled and the Dwarves went out to find food. The forest was hard to get through, but they found game plentiful.

Again, both camps headed out the next day at the same time. After midday, the armies were marching out of the thick forest and looked up to see the mountain looming above them. It was tall and made of solid rock
. It was as if a giant in the sky had sat down his favorite rock as he passed by the Far Shore. Sarchise kept staring at it; he had never seen anything like it. It seemed almost twice as tall as High Mountain on Elvenshore. There was lots of vegetation on the fertile hills leading up to the mountain, but on the mountain itself, there was none. The roots of plants could not penetrate the dense rock.

It was near dark when the armies arrived
  at the base of the mountains where the Trolls had made a trail up to the hillside. No one had yet looked to find the doors that led into the mountain. The Elves saw that the dead of their Calvary still lay upon the hillside, both horses and warriors. They sent out a burial team to take care of the bodies of the warriors, the remains of the horses they burned. The Village that had been built upon the mountainside had seen a lot of Troll attention. There was not one stone that was piled on another and every stone had been scattered far and wide. Every piece of wood had been burned. It was as though there had never been a village there in the first place.

The Humans had already made camp and were waiting for the arrival of the other two armies. The three armies settled in for the night.

Verian had half expected to see the Trolls attack them in the night and had his soldiers stationed to give them early warning, but the Humans knew that the doors to the mountain had been closed and the opening of the doors would wake them, so they all slept very well.

This morning Verian called a counsel of war and got all of the leaders together.

“Here we are. The mountain did not stir during the night,” Verian started out.

“The doors to the mountain are now closed
; we felt them do so, just like they felt them of old,” Aron replied.

“Are we still sure we want to go into the home of the enemy?” Verian asked. He was looking for hesitation for the groups, mostly the Dwarves.
It was no his desire to do this.

“Going underground
comes second nature for the Dwarves,” Sarchise replied. “It is time to take the battle to the enemy’s house. There is not much left of this land. I can only imagine the beauty of it, having seen the Elf cities in my homeland.”

“Then I guess we will have to cut our way in as they did not leave the doors open,” Verian replied
.

Sarchise smiled, “That won’t be a problem,
I have the best workers of stone anywhere.”

When the meeting broke up,
Sarchise and fifty of his best stone masons headed up the hill following in the tracks of the Trolls. The trail led past an outcropping of rock. When they passed by that, they could see two massive stone doors, high enough for a Troll to pass through without having to bend down.

The masons tapped the stone, trying to see how deep the doors were
. They could not tell, so they started in cutting a hole with chisels and bores. The masons worked in shifts around the clock. When it was dark, Sarchise came down from the mountainside and went to sleep. In the morning, he ate a quick breakfast and then made his way back up to the mountain to watch the progress.

By the
n the Dwarf stone masons had cut a small hole all the way through. The door was about two feet thick. Sarchise watched as they expanded the hole and made it big enough for an Elf to walk through without having to bend down
.

Verian could not believe that the Trolls had sat in the mountain and allowed the Dwarves to cut a hole through the door. After acting so aggressive about the building of a small village on the side of the mountain and then sit there and allow an enemy army to gain access to
their base, didn’t make sense to him. Still that is what had happened had happened and he gathered up his men and stood shoulder to shoulder with the Humans and the Dwarves ready to enter into the mountain home of the Trolls. They didn’t wait for morning because it would not matter whether it was day or night inside the mountain.
With torches lit, they marched in single file through the hole in the door. First the Dwarves, then the Elves, then the Humans.

The passageway opened up once they were inside. It was wide enough for all three races to walk side by side
and was the height of a Troll. The inside looked as if it had been chiseled out by enormous tools. As they marched the the passageway increased to that when the group held up their torches they could barely see the top of the chamber. The walls were nearly straight up and down, and there would be nowhere to hide in the event of an attack.

The armies slowly made their way down to the end of the chamber. There was no sign of the enemy. When they arrived at the end of the corridor, there was a short Human, in a tattered robe and with a gold staff standing there.

The group approached the man warily. When they were near enough he spoke. “I am Goran, spokesmen for the children of the mountain. Who dares enter here?”

Sarchise stepped forward, “I am Sarchise of Elvenshore, asked by the Elves of this land for help in fighting an evil foe that kills and destroys without provocation.“

“Provocations? The Elves built a village on the home of the children of the mountain.”

“They did not know that anyone
lived in the mountain.”

Goran glared at Veri
an, “Then they are fools.”

Sarchise ignored his gesture towards Verian and said, “The punishment does not fit the crime, so we have come to end this war once and for all.”

“Leave the children alone, they are all hurt, they are sick and dying,” Goran insisted.

“Dying?” Sarchise asked.

“See for yourself, they are around the corner.”

Sarchise and the other leaders rounded the corner, they were hit immediately by the smell of rotting flesh. When they looked there was a great hall with an empty throne at the end of it. Lining the walls were eleven Trolls sitting on the ground, some on each side of the hall. Massive torches lit up the
room.  Each of the Trolls had red and swollen feet. Infection had set in and all of the Trolls were sweating badly. Puss was oozing from their wounds and some of them had already died and turned to stone, including the one on the far end with a missing toe.

A healer of the Elves came up and asked Verian, “Do
you want us to try and save the Trolls? we have medicine that will help with the infection.”