The Eastern Dwarfs: Part Two - The Underground Journey

by Leo deSouza

  “I know where it is, I’ve been there before.”

  “Not to steal anything, I guess.”

  “No, I had a job there.”

  “A job! Ha!” The man exclaimed with a smile. “You know what, my dear, not many people would hear and trust what you say, but I will. If you say you once had a job, well then it is so. Now listen to me, you need to do this today at night, it is the only opportunity, don’t ask me why, but you will not manage to do it on another occasion. Look for an old family painting, the coffin is right behind it. Look, my dear friend… Ye have a long life of entertaining folks right? And this is most welcome, everyone is pleased by one who knows how to make some tricks. But there are those who get unsatisfied when they loss control of their small worlds, traders, dealers, folks who cares about gold and coins.”

  Montaron became serious again.

  “We know ye have made many friends, and some foes too.” The man continued. “Take it as an advice, Montaron, I think it is time for you to leave for a while, it would be safer.”

  “Someone in the city is willing to harm me?” Montaron asked.

  “Better be always cautious, my friend.”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “About being cautious?”

  “About the dealing.”

  “In this case, just don’t do it. But remember, a good advice is never to be ignored, specially when it comes for free.”

  Montaron stood quiet for some moments, then finally took off the gloves and reached them towards the man.

  “Oh are ye quitting? Well… It is up to you to decide.” The man replied, then he turned and walked away, leaving, calmly walking down the hill.

  “The pair of gloves!” Montaron said.

  “It is yours, keep it as a friend’s gift.”

  Now the dwarf was examining the gloves one more time, then finally went towards the town again. Inside the fair was another day of trading, many people were passing by, as always taking their bought goods. Montaron found his friend on the stage again, preparing a new day of presentations.

  “Montaron!” Bagard exclaimed as he saw his friend. “I left you sleeping, you looked so tired, and your sleeping seemed so placid. They are asking about you! People came looking for the fabulous dwarf of… Wait! What is this on your hands?” He said looking at the gloves.

  “Someone gave me.” Montaron replied.

  “Someone gave you? Hum… Just gave?”

  The dwarf nodded.

  “Fine… I never heard of so much charity these days, it is for sure something to mistrust. What he asked back?” Bagard asked.

  Montaron decided to not tell, he went into work, helping to arrange stuff for the presentation, his mate glanced at him one last time, curious. One more day of presentations passed, they now had to show something different from the previous tricks, but with the planning of his friend, Montaron got secure about the success of their enterprise, the dwarf had to do not much more than smile and hide inside boxes, be hung upside down and dodge some blades. When the job was done at the end of the day, the pair gathered again their stuff and prepared to leave the town one more time.

  There came the owner of the stage. “Hey you!” He said with a rude voice.

  “Oh.” Bagard sounded. “I was about to come to you.”

  “You should. I came to tell ye the price for using my stage doubled.” The owner said.

  “Doubled? That seems a little bit unfair.” Bagrad replied.

  The man abruptly took from Bagard’s hand a bag of coins, he dropped all of its content into his own hand, then gave back only three coins to Bagard. “Advance payment!” He spoke, then left, throwing the empty bag on the ground.

  Montaron was disgusted, he seemed poised to do something.

  “Keep yourself, my friend.” Bagard said. “One must know when a battle is lost, there are many guards around to keep the injustices of this world.”

  Now they left, still shaken by having their coins taken that way. But the matter now was hunger, and their minds could not focus on anything else.

  “Ye know what is the real problem of fooling someone? Is that no one falls for the same trick two times. I don’t believe we will be able to fool any trader anymore, about butter or bread. But you know what? We still have three coins here, enough for both of us eating, not a wealthy meal, but enough to make us endure the rest of the night, and tomorrow is another day.” Bagard spoke.

  Montaron smiled, and they came to eat, not stealthily, but sitting in one of the many tables in the fair, being served by someone who brought their food, there the pair ate and drank, and Montaron insisted in buying butter from the trader they fooled the day before, something Bagard convinced him not to do. At the end of the meal, when night was already covering everything, they left the city again, and when passing through the gate, one more time the tough guard came for them, looking for trouble. “Hey you! You pair of vagabonds!” He shouted.

  Montaron and his partner went ahead, ignoring the guard, but this one came closer and with a quick blow overthrew the handcart that Bagard came pushing, making all its content fall to the ground. “I lost a bag of coins yesterday, and I can feel the smell of robbery in you!” The guard said.

  “Take someone your size!” Montaron spoke.

  “Ha!” The guard laughed loudly. “Is this some kind of joke?” He now approached Montaron, the dwarf stepped back, intimidated. The guard raised one truncheon, but before he could use it, Montaron in a quick movement reached his belt and opened it, making the guard’s pants to fall.

  The man got furious. “You will pay for your boldness!” He exclaimed.

  But then some people came passing by, the guard dropped the truncheon on the ground and raised up his pants again, tightening his belt, he drew a knife from a sheath, and Montaron and his mate became frightened.

  “I will teach you a…” The guard was saying when the dwarf jumped towards him.

  So quick it was his movement that the man had no reaction, Montaron disarmed him with a blow of his hands, and took the knife for himself. The guard stared wide eyed, he stood there looking at the dwarf, without saying anything, Montaron threw the knife on the ground, sticking its blade into it.

  “Go away before I call the other men!” The guard said. “And don’t tell anyone about this! Otherwise I will gather the entire Guard and hunt you down!”

  They left as they took from the ground their stuff, and went again to the hill where they used to sleep all the nights, lit a bonfire and prepared to rest. This was an uncommonly dark night, there was no moon, at least not that they could see, clouds covered all the sky.

  “It seems like it is about to rain.” Bagard spoke.

  Montaron looked up.

  “I saw you took the knife from the guard very quickly.” The man continued. “Not to say his belt! It seems that your skills as a thief are improving! You are for sure the most skilled one among us, I’m too old to such things, my bones hurts, and my legs are lazy…”

  Montaron just smiled, he knew that something different was happening, as good as he was, his hands had never been so fast before, and that made him remember about the words that the mysterious man said when he gave him the gloves.

  Late that night, Montaron left his mate sleeping and went towards the Baron’s mansion. He took advantage of the darkness of the night to approach the place, it was guarded by some armed men, but the dwarf had no difficulty to jump over the wall after climbing a nearby tree. Not even the dogs inside the house gave him any trouble as Montaron was a smart thief, and these dogs were tamed with not much discipline, a hoax was enough to distract the animals while he climbed one of the walls of the house and reached a window. There with an almost supernatural ease, the dwarf opened the window lock with the help of some master keys he had. The rogue stepped on his tiptoes across the house, silent like a snake he came to a room where he finally found the painting hanging on a wall. With much dexterity, Montaron removed the painting and he somehow got surprised to see t
he coffin behind it, his hirer was telling the truth after all. Now he used again his master keys to deal with the coffin lock, his hands were light, he felt as if something was conducting his fingers on the way to open the lock. It did not take much time for him to hear the sound of the trigger being unlocked inside the coffin, but when he finally opened it, he got the most unpleasant surprise, the coffin was empty, Montaron suddenly thought he fell in a trap. He turned to leave but was faced with someone, right in front of him was a man, dressed in a bathrobe.

  “Guards!” The man shouted.

  The rest of the story includes Montaron flying out of a window and running across the garden, being chased by dogs and guards, and in the end, being caught. This was the end of his activities as a thief, and the beginning of a much harder life.

  E ntering the darkness.

  Thuor’s company was now walking along a gloomy path for an entire week, the footbridge was made of pure stone, their steps echoed in the darkness, but they could not see the vastness of the cave void anymore, the lights from the battle were left far behind and now only two shy flames from torches held by Thuor and Torag lightened the way, there was also Fairy Vixen who came flying over Olaf’s shoulder, shining a white light against the darkness.

  “Ye kept hidden during all the battle, inside my clothes, that gave me some tickle.” Olaf spoke to her.

  “We should have taken one of those cars, like the slick dwarf made off with, it could save us much time.” Rurur spoke.

  “Those are mining cars, they can only carry one dwarf at once, or a full load of ore. Not to say these rails are not trustable, but what do ye think it would happen if it caught on a rock or something?” Thuor asked.

  “The little rogue will be thrown down there if any rock is in his path.” Torag replied looking down, trying to see the bottom of the cave, without success.

  “How to not get lost, captain?” Rurur asked.

  “There is no way now.” Thuor replied. “We walk above this footbridge and it only leads to one destination.”

  Torag took a rock and dropped it off of the footbridge, then waited expecting to hear it hit the ground, but no sound came. “It is a long fall…” He spoke.

  They advanced, for a long time they walked in silence, going deeper into the mountain roots. Each dwarf was now carrying a heavy backpack, with other bags tied on, but their pace was slow and there was no sun to tire them, from time to time, Thuor, who was leading the group, warned them about cracks and rocks on the floor, fearing someone could stumble and fall. There were some living beings there, bats and small lizards, not the giant fire lizards used as mounts by the orcs, but ordinary ones.

  “We are getting near to a frienly place to stop, maybe the only one.” Thuor said.

  “A friend… I thought none but lizards, bats and insects lived here… How could someone live in a dirty place like this, guess it’s not someone I would call friend.” Torag spoke.

  “I had actually fotgotten about him, but ye are about to find out that not all those who live in the darkness and in privation are to be considered outcasts.” The captain continued. “Besides, there are some ones for who places like these are more livable than any other.” Some more time of walking and the captain pointed something out. “There.” He said.

  The others in the group looked to see a strange small building set on the rocky wall of the cave, between it and the footbridge, with just a palm of distance from this path, like a small cantilevered house, rustically crafted but yet with a safe appearance. The captain knocked on the door, almost instantly a voice sounded loudly from inside: “Who is there?”

  “Captain Thuor! Master chief of arms of the RockFoot Stronghold. An old friend of this house.” Thuor spoke.

  “I don’t know any captain from RockFoot house! Get away!” The voice replied.

  “Seems the one host ye were expecting for is gone, captain, and the new one does not want to receive any new friend.” Torag said.

  “No, I know it is him, it is just that he is getting old.” Thuor continued. “Don’t ye remember your old friend, Wiltix? I still owe ye a bottle of beer!”

  Hasty steps were heard coming from inside the house, the door opened with a clatter. From inside came a small figure, a gnome, like half the size of a dwarf. A male one, with short black beard and a strange monocle on one eye; a metallic tiara at the height of his forehead; and a leather jacket with countless pockets, each one filled with many precision tools.

  “Finally, ye remembered me, old friend!” Thuor spoke.

  “No I did not!” Wiltix replied. “But one who owes me a bottle of beer is welcome to honor old commitments. Where is it, by the way?”

  “Well I fear ye will need to wait till the next visit for it, I brought nothing with me this time.” Thuor said.

  “Oh… Fine. In that case, come in, it is cold out here.” Wiltix spoke giving space.

  “Daft…” Torag whispered.

  The company entered the house and it was revealed to be much bigger than they first guessed by looking from outside. It extended into the rock of the mountain, carved into it, forming a cave like house. The place was entirely adorned with many strange ornaments, strange bottles with strange liquids inside, some of it boiling above small torches. All types of singular metallic objects were around, and all them looked like instruments for some type of work that no dwarf there knew; there were also many books on shelves, and the place was dirty with many spider webs and dust. Everyone found a place to sit.

  “So, master chief Thuor. To what do I owe the honor?” Wiltix asked.

  “We are travelling through the Underground Path, and passing by a friend’s house is almost like a duty to stop.” The captain replied.

  Wiltix came to a table where a small fire was boiling one of the bottles, he extinguished it and raised the bottle to the height of his eyes, then took a gulp of its content. “Still too sweet.” He said as he exhaled.

  “What is it?” Torag asked.

  “A special type of beverage, only I know the recipe. Would like to try?” Wiltix asked, reaching the bottle to Torag.

  The dwarf just gestured, refusing it.

  “How much time since our last meeting?” Thuor asked.

  “I don’t know, I don’t even remember you… Actually… Now that you say, I think I once met a RockFoot dwarf from their Stronghold, but it was a long time ago…” Said the gnome, he dropped some unknown flavor inside the bottle and drank again. “Huuummm… Seems perfect now.” Then he reached it to Rurur.

  “What, me ehm… To drink?” The dwarf asked.

  Wiltix just smiled showing some gold teeth.

  “Try it, show ye are more courageous than me…” Torag said.

  Rurur looked at the other dwarfs as if expecting some of them to say something, but after all took the bottle and drank. “Aaargh!” He said as he licked his own mouth. “Tastes like rotten milk.”

  Wiltix took back the bottle from the dwarf’s hand. “Might be the honey.” He spoke.

  “Where do ye find honey around?” Torag asked.

  “The bees, they come to make their hives under the protection of the mountain, they come through the cracks in the rock.” The gnome answered.

  Rurur spoke on Olaf’s ear, quietly: “That geezer gnome is buried down here preparing that beverage that tastes like crap… For what?”

  “Tell us, my gnome friend. Did ye see anything strange these last times?” Thuor asked.

  “I’m seeing it right now, four dwarfs come to my house, four ones I never saw before, except for you, maybe I saw you before.” Wiltix replied.

  “What about other creatures? I heard a big crowd passed here not long ago.” Thuor insisted.

  Wiltix frowned to rely: “A big crowd? Heh… No, I would have heard them… Well maybe I was asleep when they passed. What is this crowd about anyway?”

  Thuor changed the matter as he realized that the old gnome was not sane. “Nothing of real interest.” He said.

  “If you sa
y so. But I saw another dwarf, passing hurried. Guess what he was fleeing from.” Wiltix spoke.

  “The rogue, the little rascal.” Torag said.

  Wiltix was now eating mushrooms from a bowl on his lap, he smiled as he looked at the dwarfs. Rurur noticed how dirty and torn where his clothes. “Maybe we should give him some food.” He said, thinking that Wiltix was too deaf to hear.

  “I don’t think any of your food would be pleasant to me, dwarf guest!” The gnome said.

  “All right, all right…” Rurur replied, constrained.

  “What about visitors… No one came to visit ye, from the Red Star City?” Thuor continued.

  “Red… Red Star… City…” Muttered the gnome. “I think I remember this place… Yes… Yes! But… They used to come here, always bringing gifts, traders passing always had something for me.”

  “They abandoned ye? Why do they don’t give ye more food?” Rurur asked.

  “Because I refuse it! Bad food from bad cookers, they don’ know how to prepare the meals, always bringing too salty cakes, or too sweet pipes. One must find the right point, to balance the taste.” Wiltix spoke.

  “What are all these books about?” Olaf asked.

  “My books? Oh… Ye are the first one to ask about them, folks don’t seem to have much interest in books, though what they seem to not realize is that, the real mysteries are hidden inside the books. So the difference between an idiot and a wise one is that the second reads.” Said the gnome.

  “Ye see, Torag? Ye are a stupid one, had never read a book before.” Olaf said to his fellow.

  “In this case we are all stupid.” Torag replied.

  “What is your journey about?” Wiltix asked.

  “We are looking for a mystery!” Torag exclaimed. “Like the ones ye say that are in the books. And we have travelled a long way after it.”

  “That is most idiotic… Why don’t ye simply look for it in the books?” Wiltix asked.