Tranquil Fury (11 page)

Alron stepped out from the forest, “Friend John, does naught worry thine self. I does think that Mother does now guide young Lauren. To the camp, let us return.”

 “Alron, may I ask you a question?”

 “John, friend of Lauren, thou are free to ask, mine answers does be few.”

 “Do you know what is happening?”

 “Protect and serve. Mine answer does be that John. Protect and serve. Beyond that, all else I does leave to Mother.”

 “Who do you protect and serve?”

 “Those that Mother does select.”

 “Is Lauren one of them?”

 “A good question thou does ask. Alas, thine answer does naught be known at time present.”

John followed Alron back to the camp in silence, his head buzzing with even more questions, and eventually found Lauren in a deep sleep, but he wanted to shake her awake, demand answers. Science should hold the key to unlocking mysteries, but in a world filled with magic, John felt like a sheep in a cattle pen, completely out of place. He was just hoping the sign on the building didn’t say ‘slaughterhouse’. As he grabbed his blankets, he looked up to the blazing stars, “Mother. If you are up there, please look after my friend Lauren.” It was a heartfelt request, and a cold surrender, in a world void of science, faith was the only currency.

Chapter 9

Snow-capped mountains had been growing on the horizon each day as they traveled west, and on the last day of their journey, they entered the foothills. It was dark when they stopped in front of a mountain rock face, where Alron jumped off his stag, and slammed his closed fist on it. Slowly, a large door opened and a dwarf standing about four feet tall emerged, “Worried we were. Friends I see brought you have.” His voice was rich, thick, seemed to resonate deep inside of him, rolled up as if it was escaping a mineshaft, which somehow amplified its bulky texture, but not the volume. Unlike the elves, whose words sounded song like, it took a few seconds for them to understand the dwarven words.

Alron turned to the wagon, “May I introduce thine host, Bor Ironhouse.” The door opened wide enough to accommodate the wagon, and they entered a large stable carved out of solid rock. As the elves dismounted and put their stags into pens, nobody noticed that Ryan became slightly nervous. Bor told Mirtza where to store the oxen, and instead of changing them back into gold amulets, which may have alarmed the dwarves or elves, he put them in the pen as requested. The rest exited the wagon with their backpacks, and Lauren clutched her staff and leaf pouch. The stable was huge, but the space seemed empty by comparison, as the stables were large enough to hold several hundred animals, but only a dozen small ponies called it home.

Bor closed the large outer door, and headed to the back of the stable, the others quickly following the odd individual. Bor turned down a corridor, and after a short distance, stopped in front of a wooden door, which he opened. Bor’s deep voice echoed off the stone walls, amplifying it even more. “To bed the rest have gone. Welcome proper, tomorrow will have to wait. These be old cavalry quarters. Grand they may be not, but comfortable. Far cabinet, fresh sheets find you will. Comfortable more than ground cold.” He pointed to the doors at the far end, “Leaves and trees no more. Comfort instead awaits you it does.”

Alron walked over to Lauren, “I shalt return in the morning. In comfort rest now, thine trouble does be behind thou. Host Bor or his brothers will check on thou this night, but thou are now safe.”

And with that Bor and the elves left, closing the door behind them. The last few days had been hard on the six, as the nights were colder, which greatly affected their sleep. There were over a hundred beds in the room, so like Little Red Riding Hood, each tested one, until they found one just right. Eric could not find a bed long enough, so instead, slept on the floor, with lots of blankets. As soon as each one lay down, they fell asleep, warm, and comfortable, with the exception of Ryan. The last thing he muttered was “I hate caves,” but was so tired that he soon forgot that he was underground.

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Bor followed Alron up to the sleeping quarters, and waited for him to go into the Earth Mother’s room, as he knew he would. When he was sure that the hall was empty, Bor walked across the hall, knocked on his brother’s bedroom door, and entered.

 “Aaro, awaited arrived.”

From the darkness, a deep thick voice answered, “Be you sure?”

 “Be they must, six Alron escorted they were.”

 “The ones they be?”

 “Brother, months since Ironhouse receive guests new. Sure I cannot be, but brother, among them a giant walks.”

Aaro sat up, and lit the candle beside his bed, “Giant?”

 “Aye. Me plus half tall he stood.”

 “Sword tall?”

 “Close he be, but taller I think.”

 “Brother, what means this?”

Bor closed Aaro’s door as he left, “That answer, many wish to know.”

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Alron tried to let them sleep in as late as possible, but Bor was anxious, “Within the hour, welcome breakfast ready will be. If late they be, then hungry they also will be. My brothers you know well. Many things they do well, wait not be one.” Bor went down to the cavalry barracks, banged on the door, and entered the room. In a loud, deep voice, he proclaimed, “Suns be up, so should you. Friends new wait on you. Best it be, if that wait be short!” He walked around the room handing out pails and towels, and kicking the beds with bodies still asleep in them. True dwarf hospitality would dictate flipping the beds over, but Alron insisted he go easy on them. Bor pointed to the back door, “Water running there you will find. Presentable yourselves make. Scruffy lads, my Mammy’s razor find I did. If beards you are not sprouting, smooth you should be.”

Much to Zack’s relief, it was not one large communal shower, but individual stalls, and he went to one of the farthest. They were unsure of what to do with the buckets, until they got into the showers, and that was when they saw the stone plug about four feet high on the far wall, with a spiral pattern of smaller holes just above it. When one pulled on the stone plug, water shot straight out of the holes and arced out, falling about three feet from the wall. John had no problems using the shower, and was one of the first ones done. It took the others longer, because they had to keep filling their buckets to wash their hair, or rinse off. Eric stood alone in the shower for several minutes, watching the water come out at waist height, ‘Son of a motherless goat!’ They all knew it was Eric, and could well imagine what he was going through. As he continued to clean up, the others came back out into the main dormitory.

Bor was finishing laying out fresh clothes for them, “These be midlander clothes left behind by guest past. Tight they may be, but smell they do not.” Mirtza had brought in one of his bags, and carefully got out a fresh set of clothes when nobody was looking.

Eric finally finished showering and shaving, and had several nicks on his face, never having used a straight razor before. He saw everybody dressed in the elfin clothing, “You guys clean up good,” then walked over to where he had slept on the floor, and only found his old clothes, “What about me?”

Bor walked over to Eric, “You, up there! Down here look. My festival best retrieve I will, but silly you will look. If known coming you were, a frost beast slain we could. With notice none, preparations the same we made. Iron and Ore, big you are. Your scent be strong, though Mammy’s pretty water, lessen it did. Smell they do, but presentable they are. But little one, understand something. In mountain range, only one thing be large enough to cloak you.”

 “What is that Bor?”

 “Mountain shadow. In this range, your size nothing be found.” When all were ready, Bor led them through a maze of tunnels to a large dining hall. A huge low table displayed their breakfast, and standing in front of it was a group of elves and dwarves.

Alron was the first to step forward, “Please may I introduce thou to mine men, Thou does remember Panry Moonshadow, Cethail Highbreeze, Erust Huntinghawk, Babartin and Careel Dawnfalcon. I am also pleased to introduce thine hosts. Aaro, Bor, Fen, Fodu, Gor, Hakk, and their father, Master Weapon Smith Ironhouse. Last but not least, I does present thou to Gingaar Huntinghawk and Earth Mother.” The deer like ears on the last two made it perfectly clear that they were elves.

Alron continued, “Dwarf and Elf, I does introduce thine new friends; Mirtza, Lauren, her brother Logan, Eric, Ryan, Zack, and last, John.” Weapon Smith Ironhouse’s mood changed immediately at the sight of Eric. He was old, and spending so many hours around the forges had made him crusty. He had seen too much that he did not like over the years, and it weighed heavily on his heart, however, the vision of Eric seemed to reset his disposition, as he smiled, stood taller, as though some of his youth had returned to him.

The deep dwarf baritone voice of Bor made a booming proclamation, “Food be hot, rejoice, celebrate Ironhouse style. Tradition states it does, guests be first. My brothers hungry, so quick you should be.”

Lauren turned to Bor, “Could you please help me decide, it all looks so good, but it is also strange to me.”

Her friends followed her down the table as Bor named each dish quickly, and tried to describe the taste. There were buns and breads with an assortment of spreads and jams. There were items that looked like pancakes, scrambled eggs, home fries, and such. Some tasted as they expected, while others, did not. They avoided the pickled meats, goats’ eyes, anything with the word tongue in it, and the really stinky cheeses. And Zack thought that it was righteous that the breakfast meal should include beer.

John felt odd in the assembled group, as he was used to looking up at everybody, Lauren causing him the least amount of neck strain. Here the dwarves were about four feet tall, and the elves around four and a half in total. He was standing in a room where he could see over almost everybody’s head, unless he went to go to school with them, and this was new to him.

The dwarves were dressed in fine dyed buckskin shirts and pants. The elves had on pastel-colored woven garments, except for the Earth Mother and Gingaar, who both wore floral dresses that touched the ground. The Earth Mother while intrigued by Lauren, wished to get a better look at the strange staff, but waited so she would not arouse suspicion. After Lauren served herself, she went straight to Alron, who re-introduced her to the elf males. When the Earth Mother was sure that Lauren was distracted, she turned her gaze towards the staff—only to find it had disappeared. Perplexed, she could not even remember seeing the girl set it down anywhere, so she walked over and introduced herself.

Most of the morning’s activities involved meeting new faces and remembering distinguishing traits, to help remember the names. Aaro Ironhouse was the eldest son, the Weapon Smith apprentice. He was four feet tall and muscular, and unlike the other dwarves, he had a short beard, which he explained in several conversations, that if he did not keep it short, the forge would ensure that he maintained the proper length.

Bor was the second oldest, and the tallest, almost as tall as an elf. His beard was long, going down to his belt. But every few inches, he had tied a band around it, to create a long thick beard rope. There was a military air to him, and scars. His hands and forearms had many small and large injuries that had healed long ago. So much visible trauma was bound to raise questions, but he insisted on keeping the stories short, for he would need more time to do the them justice.

Fen was the third born. Though not the tallest, he was certainly the largest. One of his primary tasks was to work the forge bellows, and as such, his arms and legs were massive and seemed to burst from his clothes. Fen was also odd, in that both his chin and scalp were bald, and looked out of place, both from his size and hairless features from the other dwarves.

Fodu was a goldsmith. His beard was almost as long as Bor’s, but was divided and tied behind his neck, exposing a wonderful gold pendent, in the shape of a dwarf axe on a fine gold chain.

Gor was the cook, and just as his Pappy ruled the forges, his domain was the kitchen. He did not have a full beard. Instead, he had large mutton-chop sideburns that covered most of his cheeks, explaining a beard got in the way of his cooking. He checked with the guests to see which dishes they had selected, and those that they did not like.

Hakk was the youngest of the six brothers, used to be the captain of the cavalry. Considered young for such a position, but his skills of fighting on war ponies were second to none. When the cavalry had left so many years ago, he felt it his duty to go with them, however, tradition outweighed duty, and he stayed alongside his Pappy.

The elves were harder to tell apart, as they were all the same height, give or take a few inches, hair and eyes were both jet-black. John noticed the one subtle difference: all wore belts, but each belt-buckle was different, except for Babartin and Careel Dawnfalcons, whose buckles were the same. After inquiring, Alron demonstrated how each buckle represented the various family crests, but Zack would later suggest jerseys with numbers on the back, would make it easier to tell them apart.

At one point during the event, Logan walked over to John, “What did Alron mean when he called the elves his mine men? Do they work here in the Ironhouse Mine?”

John shook his head, “No, from the way he used it, I think ‘mine’ in elf, means ‘my’ in English. So what he said was, ‘Please may I introduce thou to mine men’, he actually said, ‘Please may I introduce you to my men’, so no, the elves do not work in the mine.”

“Then what is with all of the knots he keeps talking about?”

“I think elves only have one word for a negative. He is not saying knot, spelt k n o t, he is saying naught, spelt n a u g h t. I think for the elves, it means several things, like no, never, and not, spelt n o t, maybe more.”