Hearth Fire

Over the next couple of days, Stronric prepared for his journey into town and worked on the hold. He allowed the goats to roam freely during the day and herded them back in at night. He’d gone deeper into the hold to check for any lingering gobi but found none. Creating more crude doors and locks, he secured the hold as best he could. If something truly wanted to get inside, they would. He could easily force them out again by wielding his axe.

Using a rope, he strapped the supplies he had to sell onto the tender, but able, ram. With everything he deemed valuable hidden away, Stronric left the hold. It was an uncomfortable feeling. The hold had become his home, he treasured it more and more daily. The goats were like his family. Patting Beatrice and nuzzling her snout, he said his goodbyes. Stronric had used leather to make a lead for the ram and together they headed into the snowy morning light.

The journey was effortless. There was no piled-up ice or snow to hinder him. The fresh air felt invigorating on his face. According to his map the hold faced north and there should be a road that crossed the mountain from east to west. The map showed little of what was west, but a small village, Millstone, was off to the east. He took the road leading eastward to the small village. The road sloped gently downhill following the natural grade of the mountain. It was was wide enough to allow two wagons to drive side by side without touching. Someone had built rock walls on the cliff side of the trail. Stronric looked down at the moss-covered path and noticed the stone wall was missing bricks. He concluded that this road must be seldom traveled. Abandoned long ago by any previous travelers.

He successfully reached the foothills at the base of the mountain by the time he stopped for the night. He took one last look at the mountain before the daylight faded away. Stronric made camp beside the road. A small creek babbled, running alongside of the road and disappearing under a bridge, a few paces away. He had unloaded the ram’s gear and led it down to the creek to drink its fill. As the animal drank deeply of the snow melted water, Stronric stared out into the distance. He could see the village, alight with the evening's cooking. Spotted throughout the town were torches and outdoor fires. The village seemed small. Although he couldn't see the exact dimensions at night and from here but he would assume it would accommodate roughly a hundred people.

Stronric started a fire and with his water-skin filled with beer, his prepared hard tack and settled down to eat. Just as he went to take his first bite, he heard a noise. Footsteps. Stronric stood to face whoever was approaching. It happened to be two humans. Both men had blond hair and round faces. The first man wore a brown tunic, trousers, boots and all were plain and unadorned. Around his waist sagged an over-sized belt with a poorly crafted sheath and sword. The second man wore patchwork armor made of darkened leather and a blue cape which was drawn over his head. The leathers protected his torso and legs but he wore no gauntlets. Around his waist also hung a similar shoddily made sword. Both men carried backpacks and looked youngish, but their skin was tanned and hardened as if a hard-lived life had added the touch of age to them.

As they approached, they raised a hand,”Hello there fellow traveler, might we join you by the fire?” The armored human asked.

I need information, but I also don’t need to be robbed. They are as thin as twigs. I don't think they’d give me much of a fight.

Stronric nodded his head and waved them closer. As they became illuminated by the fire, they both stopped and small gasps escaped as they looked at him in shock. They stared as awkward silence filled the night before one brother cleared his throat and asked.

“Not to be rude, are you a… He paused and tilted his head”… a dwarf?”

Stronric nodded his head.

“What in the seven realms is wrong with him,” the first brother said, looking at the armored one.

Stronric raised an eyebrow. He knew he hadn’t braided his beard or brushed his hair in a while, but there was nothing wrong with him.

“Dwarf, you sick, or suffering from bloat? Are you… can your condition be passed to others?” asked the first brother.

“What do ye mean, am I sick? Do ye know a dwarf that gets sick?” replied Stronric. “In’it rude to not introduce yourself when seeking the warmth of anothers fire?”

The armored brother stared silently at Stronric, his eyes taking in the scene before him.

The first brother's nose and lips curled up in a snarl. “You dare…”

His brother smacked him in the head, “shut up.” The armored human scolded him. He turned to Stronric and said “Of course. This is my brother Bradwick, and I am Charles.”

“Ay and I am Stronric.” Replied Stronric. “Now, if yer like, ye can sit by the fire and join me. I haven’t much to eat but I have some hardtack.”

The brothers joined him by the fire. Stronric leaned against the ram and observed the brothers as they warmed themselves by the campfire.

“Aren’t you cold? You stand there in nothing but a ruined tunic and trousers.” Asked Bradwick

“Cold? Have you ever met a dwarf before? This isn’t cold. This is a cool fall night at best.” Stronric replied.

“Of course I have met dwarves, but not such as you. Do tell, where do you hail from?” Asked Bradwick.

“I hail from the mountains as all dwarves do. Which mountain, now thats mine to keep,” Replied Stronric.

Stronric noticed that Bradwick’s lips curled again at being spoken to in such a manner. Seeing that, Charles placed another hand on Bradwick’s arm to silence his building rage. Something is wrong here. Why are these humans acting so strangely?

“Might I ask where ye hail from?” probed Stronric.

“We come from here and there. We travel the land in search of work and opportunity.” Replied Charles.

“Oh, is there work in these parts? Yer clothes fair no better than mine. Is there not a town named Millstone just up the road?” Asked Stronric.

“Yes, there is one, but it’s not much of a place. A small village, we are looking for different kind of work.“ replied Bradwick

“Oh? And, what kind of work would that be? Ye monster hunters, treasure seekers or foot…” started Stronric.

“No, no, I assure you we aren’t footpads. No, we are cartographers, trying to map out some of this backwater for the mayor.” Charles quickly said, cutting off any idea they were there to rob him.

Stronric nodded and ate some of his hardtack, listening to the sounds of the forest. He caught Bradwick staring at his ram and then looking at his brother.

“Ye got a good eye, that’s … well, I haven't named him. He’s, a mighty animal indeed.” Stronric said.

“Yes, I’ve never seen nor heard of mountain rams being used as beast of burden.” Bradwick said.

What? How else would dwarves travel long distances? The use of horses was detestable. Those foul creatures, human were mad for riding them.

“Oh, there must not be many dwarves in the area, then?” Stronric said.

“There are dwarves but none of them can own animals, they being no better than beas…”

Stronric was on his feet in a flash. “What did you say, human?”

Charles jumped up holding a hand toward Stronric, “Please forgive my brother master dwarf, my brother is an idiot.”

Bradwick pulled his sword free from his sheath. “He’s probably an escaped slave brother. We could make some money off returning his brash ass to his rightful place.”

Stronric bowed his head. He was afraid of this. Have my kin truly fallen so low? With his head still tilted down at the ground, he looked at Bradwick, and smiled. His chipped teeth shined in the firelight, giving off a primal visage.

“Oh, yer gonna take me as a slave? Well, here come, put the cuffs on me.” Raising his hands to be cuffed.

“See brother, I told you dwarves are stupid creatures. All they need is some guidance and they fall right in line.” He stepped towards Stronric, reaching into his bag with his free hand. The moment he was within arm’s reach, Stronric's hand flashed out, catching the hand holding the sword. He yanked down hard, thrusting the human to its knees. Bradwick squealed from the pain. Stronric pulled him face to face with him. He laughed as he squeezed, and Bradwick screamed. Charles took a step towards him.

“Move and you both die,” Stronric said as he nodded towards his axe that was now in view from the firelight.

A sickening pop and the sword fell to the ground. “I am Stronric Wraith-Thane. I am no slave, and never have been a slave. Insult me and my kin again, and I’ll separate that head from your body.” Shoving the weeping man back, Stronric stood to his full height and stared at the other brother. “We gonna have an issue here Charles?“

Charles shook his head no, but his mouth was still wide open. This was not a normal dwarf, here dwarves were thin creatures, small and weak. There was no way this man was a dwarf.

“Of course not, master dwarf. I’ll just collect my idiot of a brother and leave if you permit as much, and here take this.” Handing Stronric a coin. “Have a stay at the inn in Millstone on us, a sort of an apology.”

Stronric nodded and let the humans go. He settled back down by the fire. This was going to be bad. He felt it in his bones.