by RG Long
Gorplin let out a humpf and continued to march along with the rest, though to keep up he nearly had to run. Ealrin knew the dwarf was still thinking over the prospect of walking through haunted woods. He was more concerned with Lote's dismissal of any troll threat at all; he remembered a rather humorous story from Roland about a troll who dabbled in magic.
After a gentle reminder from Gaflion that such a pace would wear out most of the party and cause them to stop their journey before the sun set, Lote slowed and the whole party let out a sigh of relief.
The scenery around them was astonishing and Ealrin was glad for the chance to appreciate the fall colors against fading mountains. The foothills of Thoran were truly a magnificent sight.
While most were content to walk in silence for a time and catch their breath, Gorplin had more to say.
“There's been many a strange thing to walk on these lands,” he said for only Ealrin to hear. “And the residents of what is now Thoran have not always been the keepers of this territory. Others dwelled here long before the trolls claimed the woods. Who's to say what civilization or peoples roamed free here? And I doubt very much they appreciate the living traipsing through their forest. Some men of the castle told tales of merchants and travelers taking this road, and never coming home again.”
“In times of war and with everything Teresa has told me about the lands beyond the castle, I see good enough reason for others to stay away without talking of ghosts,” Tory said. He had seen Gorplin whispering to Ealrin and had waited for them. The three of them were the last of the group.
“Bah,” was all Gorplin would say over the next few miles.
The company ate lunch on their feet as they continued their trek to the forest. Over the horizon, it claimed their view. Fall trees formed a wall against invading foothills and mountains, as if indeed they were protecting their boundaries. A road was visible that ran underneath the forest canopy to a faraway mound that Lote said was the entrance to the land of Beaton.
Even with Gorplin's short legs, the party was able to have a steady pace, though more than once he complained that he was the only one jogging. The edge of the forest was nearly within reach by the time night began to fall.
“Let's find a place to make camp on the edge of the forest,” Lote said.
“Best make it as far from the trees as you can,” muttered Gorplin under his breath.
Lote looked at him with annoyance in her eyes. The dwarf looked aghast that he was heard.
“One more word about ghosts from you, Gorplin, and I will personally ensure you sleep alone in the forest tonight!”
“Elf ears,” Ealrin said to his short friend with a grin.
***
SLOWLY THE TWIN SUNS began to set and dark shadows from the forest behind them started to lengthen.
Their packs were arranged in a circle around a small fire. Over the flames, two small fowls slowly roasted on a spit. Ealrin was already on cooking duty.
He was glad to be back on the road and traveling again. While he had been sequestered in the castle, Ealrin had felt moody and wished for wide-open spaces. Even just one afternoon of walking had lifted his spirits.
Perhaps, before he had lost his memory, he had not been one to settle down in any one place.
Stars began to appear overhead and Ealrin found himself listening in on the conversations of his peers.
Gorplin was sulking and staring into the trees ahead of them. No one was keen on asking him his opinion on whether or not they should go into the forest now. Unusually sullen, the dwarf sat and soured next to the fire.
Gaflion and Tory were having conversations concerning the goblin attack on Thoran. Tory expounded on how the defenders might best repel them, with Gaflion offering up a counter remark every now and then.
"Yes, Master Tory, but should they fire the southwestern catapults, they risk hitting their own troops on the western wall. Those were installed for extremely precarious situations only."
Ealrin wasn't sure what the difference between the south and southwestern walls of Thoran was, but he could tell that the two would have rather been defending their homeland than journeying away from it.
Bertrom was asking Lote about the forest road ahead, apparently still apprehensive about the march through it.
"It's been some time since I've traveled to Beaton, but these trees are good ones, or at least not as evil as other forests I've trekked through," she told him as she looked into the woods ahead of them.
Bertrom was not satisfied with knowing that these trees were only less evil.
"You mean the trees are...evil? Themselves?" he replied, attempting to hide the fear rising in him. Bertrom was a soldier. But apparently the thought of bad tempered woods along with the possibility of hidden ghosts had unnerved him.
"Trees have souls. They think and feel very much like you and I. Only the elves are able to discern their sounds. I sense a small threat inside, but nothing that this band can't handle I'm sure. Even with a dwarf who seems determined to scare our newest recruit."
She touched his shoulder in a reaffirming manner. The gesture seemed to bring Bertrom back a bit.
"Yes ma'am," he said. "I won't let Gorplin's stories of ghost get to me anymore."
"Good. You hear that dwarf? You're done scaring..."
Lote had looked over to the spot next to Ealrin.
The spot that had, until recently, had been occupied by Gorplin.
It was now quite empty.
***
EALRIN HADN'T HEARD the dwarf move. They all knew it was unlike Gorplin to wander off on his own without telling the party. Least of all out to the open expanse behind them. If he had said he was going to make a perimeter or to keep watch away from camp, no one could recall him saying so.
After a few jogs around the campsite, Lote was sure of the direction he had started off in.
"His tracks lead into the forest, but not along the main road. He's taking a smaller path," she reported.
"I don't suppose any of us are willing to wait until morning to go looking for him in there?" Bertrom asked. Ealrin couldn't help but note a slight glimmer of fear in the new recruit’s eyes, despite his previous promise to Lote. In his defense, Ealrin also felt uneasy about entering any forest in the dead of night.
"The forest is so dense and dark. I don't suggest splitting up to search for him," Lote said with a grimace.
"So you mean everyone's going in there?" Tory asked. He huffed as he stood and shouldered his pack.
"If I find that dwarf first, I'll rap him so hard on the head he'll regret making me miss a night’s sleep."
Everyone begrudgingly put their pack back on and, after lighting a few makeshift torches, helped put out the fire. Dinner was distributed among the ranks on various sticks or knife blades.
And if they weren't about to step into the dark cover of the trees on a moonless night, Ealrin might have had more time to appreciate how his cooking was improving.
11: Ghosts in the Woods
Between the crunch of the newly fallen leaves on the forest floor, the blaze of the four torches that lit the path they walked, and the constant huffs coming from Tory, Ealrin wondered if the entire country would be aware of their passing through the woods.
“At least try to walk quietly, Tory. You'll wake every living thing in here,” Lote said as she looked at him sternly. Ealrin glanced back as well to the last of the group and saw that Tory was having a difficult time. Gorplin had a pack like the rest of them, but since he disappeared he was unable to carry it. The task fell to Tory, after some arguing, to carry the missing dwarf's things.
“I don't know what he packed in this, but it sounds like twelve cast iron pots and pans. Curse that dwarf!” said Tory in a voice that echoed throughout the woods.
The last sound of his voice died away in the trees and the group shifted uneasily.
“I would also ask you,” Lote said in a quieter, threatening tone, “to lower your voice, Tory Greenwall. I do not fear ghost
s. But other things may lurk in these woods.”
Bertrom gulped audibly behind Ealrin.
“Let's go,” Lote ordered, turning again to follow the trail of the dwarf.
Had they made this march in the morning, Ealrin thought he would have appreciated the fall foliage and the beauty of the woods around him. As they had marched earlier that day and seen the woods from a distance, the fall colors had looked warm and inviting. Now that they were trekking through the vast tree trunks, the scene was less picturesque.
Their torches lit barely ten paces ahead of them. Shadows cast by the tall sentinels of the forest jumped and flickered with the light. No stars were visible through the canopy above. And, to make matters worse, only Lote was able to walk without crunching leaves or snapping twigs every other step. The party was all too aware how much noise they made as they walked through the forest, Tory's own struggles notwithstanding. And though the torches clearly gave away their location, no one suggested they be put out and walk in total darkness.
A breeze blew gently through the trees, casting the flames around their torches and sending chills up Ealrin's spine. The gentle howl of the breeze would have been welcomed during their morning jog. Now its low sound did little to quiet Ealrin's imagination. He was sure the rest of the group felt the same fear coursing through them. Well, all except Lote and Gaflion. When the rest of them turned at every snap of a fallen twig, they kept their eyes forward. Whether it was from nerves that felt no need to panic or a practiced self-control, Ealrin wasn't sure.
After nearly an hour of marching, following the path's twists and turns and Lote's instructions, the party finally came to a clearing. The moon above signaled the middle of the night and the stars twinkled merrily, as if they had little concern for haunted forests and missing dwarves. The light of their torches showed only the bark of the trees nearest to them. The rest were lost to the darkness. A path was clearly visible along the ground, though it had signs of being seldom traveled. It entered the clearing from the south where the party came from, and exited again going west. A few large stones jutted out from the ground.
The elf paused a moment, bent close to the ground and felt the earth between her fingers.
“Strange,” she said. “Gorplin's tracks end here.”
Tory let down the dwarf's pack with a clatter and sat on a rock.
“Unless he's learned to fly, there have to be tracks somewhere, Lote,” he said as he massaged one of his feet. Ealrin had heard him curse a while back when he tripped on an unseen root.
Lote's eyes narrowed and her mouth opened to give a retort, but instead of the sound of her voice, a low howl hung in the air. One that did not sound anything like a breeze.
Tory quickly stood and drew his sword. Lote notched an arrow to her bow and the rest of the company made their weapons ready and dropped their packs.
“What animal on Ruyn makes a noise like that?” Bertrom asked as he positioned himself next to Ealrin. The group was forming a circle, facing out of the clearing.
“None I am familiar with,” Gaflion said in his deep tone.
Again the low howl issued out from the woods. It seemed to be coming from many directions at once. A shadow jumped between two tree trunks and Ealrin shouted out.
“There!”
An arrow thudded soundly in the bark of tree where the shadow had gone.
Lote cursed. Ealrin knew she was not accustomed to missing.
Ghosts don't cast shadows, she said as she strung another arrow on her bow.
“I thought she said she didn't believe in ghosts,” Bertrom said.
Ealrin did not have time to respond.
A dozen clothed figures sprung from the trees and ran towards them. In their hands they brandished weapons made from wood and stone. One of them charged at Ealrin. Though most of its body was covered in rags and other scraps of cloth, by the light of his torch, he could see a grotesque face staring up at him from the level of his chest.
As it lifted its club to strike at him, he sprung at it with sword and torch in front of him. Though the thing attempted to dodge out of the way, Ealrin had reacted too quickly for it to dodge completely.
The two hit the ground in a tangle of rags.
As they rolled in the grass, Ealrin became quite sure that whatever it was he was wrestling was not a ghost. Having lost his torch in the scuffle, he used his free hand to punch at the face of his adversary. At the same time he realized his knuckles had hit wood instead of flesh; he heard a yelp from behind the mask.
"Ow! That was my nose!" whatever it was behind the mask yelled.
Ealrin scrambled to his feet. He took his sword and pointed it at the throat of the thing still lying on the ground. He glanced around to see an odd scene unfolding around him.
None of the cloth clad attackers lay slain. Most of his own party was either wrestling with a cloaked figure or just trying to keep them at bay. One was clutching its arm and howling as an arrow protruded from it. But, to Ealrin's surprise, Lote was actually inspecting the wound and talking gently to the masked figure, now lying on the ground.
Turning his gaze back to the thing at his feet, he took the very tip of his sword and unmasked it.
Sprawled out on the ground was a person in miniature form. From the looks of it, he was male with a slightly broken nose. Were his hands not covering his face, Ealrin could have seen more of his features. He had sandy brown hair, stubby hands, and a voice that was loud and boisterous.
"I ought to kick you in the shins for that!" he said through clenched teeth.
"Halflings!" Lote called out to Ealrin, who still had his sword pointed at the one lying on the ground below him. "They won't harm us."
"Funny method of not trying to harm us," Bertrom said under his breath as he put his own sword back into its sheath.
Ealrin kneeled beside the broken-nosed halfling.
"You are lucky you aren't dead," he said as he helped him sit up.
"Ugh," the halfling said grabbing his head as he sat up straight. "Headache!"
Ealrin smiled despite himself and stood.
"Halflings?" he asked curiously to no one in particular.
All around him, both males and females removed their masks and cloaks. They wore simple clothes with very few adornments. They looked more like farmers than soldiers. Their hands were soiled and their fingernails were caked with dirt. Most looked plain. Not one of their heads stood higher than Ealrin's chest. In all respects, they looked like miniature humans. Like children who never grew taller, just older.
Tory spoke up.
"I've heard of halflings on Ruyn before, but I thought they were just fairy tales."
"Much like ghosts, eh?" said Gorplin as he walked out from behind the trees, a big smile on his face.
He never had time to run as Tory went after him with his fists.
"Why you half-witted, stunted, wrinkled, iron-brained dolt!"
"Do you think Tory's upset?" Bertrom asked Ealrin, who tried not to chuckle too loudly. "I'm just glad they aren't real ghosts," he continued, taking a deep breath.
Lote stood up, finished with bandaging the moaning halfling, and spoke to the company.
"We are traveling from Thoran to Beaton. We mean you no further harm if you let us pass unimpeded."
Turning to Gorplin and Tory, she said, "That'll do."
Tory relented and Gorplin, who looked none the worse for the wear, shoved him aside.
"You'll thank me in just a moment!" he said loudly. "These halflings have beds and some advice about the road to Beaton!"
Ealrin could see the look of annoyance on Lote's face turn slightly.
"I plan to spend the entirety of my travels north to the elves complaining of the foolishness of dwarves," she said as she shouldered her bow.
Tory stared daggers at Gorplin, knowing who would be the one listening to her constant ranting.
***
THEY WOKE THE NEXT morning feeling well rested. The halflings had been more than hospitable to
them and had offered one of their vacant dwellings for them to stay in for the night.
Gorplin had recounted his journey into the woods as they walked from the clearing to the halfling village that lay only two miles away.
He had seen something moving quietly through the forest while the group sat and talked. In truth, he had meant to inform them that he had seen something, but he was still fuming over no one believing his ghost stories.
But as he had gone to investigate, he found himself surrounded by the low howling noises and had lost his way. The halflings had crafted small flute-like instruments that produced the ghostly sounds. The clearing was actually one of the spots the halflings try to lure their victims to. They never intend to harm anyone, just ensure that greedy travelers and curious goblins are kept away from their village. When they saw that Gorplin was not a threat, they agreed to take part in his little prank.
The only ones who regretted that decision were Jurgon, whose nose Ealrin had broken, and Jurrin, whom Lote had shot.
No one could convince him that the prank was in ill taste and that the halflings could have come to serious harm.
"Bah," he said when Lote had berated him. "They are so small and swift you'd find it hard to land a blow on any of them!"
Jurgon gave a loud moan, as if to remind the dwarf of his injury.
That morning over breakfast, which consisted of freshly baked bread, venison, and various cooked vegetables, he had tried to reason that he had been right all along.
"So there really were ghosts in the forest. Just not the ones that I had expected."
Tory was not convinced.
"But if these halflings were only pretending to be ghosts, then there are no real ghosts, dimwit."
"Bah," was Gorplin's only reply.
His spirits are much improved over the hearty meal, and everyone was relieved that it was finally daylight in the forest.
The halfling village consisted of twenty or so small dwellings. Most of them appeared to be half a house because the bottom of each was actually a hole dug in the ground. The top half of the house was constructed out of logs laid on top of one another and a thatched roof. Any windows, which were only squares cut out of the logs, were ground level and covered with cloth. Inside the bottom half of the houses were lined with stones and the floors were rough-hewn boards. The house they had stayed in last night was sparsely furnished with simple wooden chairs, a table, and beds with straw mattresses. Though they appeared to be primitive, on the inside it was more than cozy enough for travelers who had slept on the ground for the last week.
