Tom Liberman - The Hammer of Fire

“I said be quiet,” said Cleathelm in a louder voice.

“What?” came the reply.

“For the love of Davim, I said be quiet,” shouted Cleathelm across the divide. “We’re trying to catch Delius and the others red-handed. If you keep shouting what chance is there of that?”

“I don’t think they’re coming,” yelled the voice in a loud tone that carried easily across the room and seemed to echo in the workshop. “I’m getting cramps and I’m hungry. Did you bring any food?”

“Yeah, I’m hungry too,” said another voice from across the way. “I didn’t think we’d be stuck up here for hours. You said they’d come first thing, Cleathelm.”

“Will all of you just shut up!” shouted Cleathelm as he shifted back in the forth in the small alcove unable to pace effectively. “Will you give me some room,” he said and glared down at the little goblin who was curled up into the corner like a mouse hiding from the cats.

“I don’t think they’re coming,” said the little half-breed from his position and shrugged his shoulders.

“They’ll come, this is their only chance to get the hammer.”

“Maybe they don’t want the hammer,” said Blaggard, looked up from his curled position, and managing to sidle slightly away from the ready elbow that the dwarf brandished.

“They want the damn hammer,” repeated Cleathelm. “I overheard Fierfelm talking about it. He made some stupid promise to the old First Edos. It’s all arranged.”

“What if they changed their minds?” said the half-breed in a low tone and tried to scoot even further away from Cleathelm. “What if the First Edos was playing a trick on you?”

“I’m getting thirsty,” rang out a voice from across the hall.

“Fine,” shouted back Cleathelm and gave off a loud blast of breath, “climb down and get some food and drink for all of us. We might be here all night.”

This proclamation elicited groans and murmurs of protestation but eventually a heavily armed dwarf, wearing thick chain mail with a war axe strapped to his side, started to climb down from the opposite alcove although his axe slipped out of belt and clattered to the ground with a loud bang.

“For the love of Davim,” shouted Cleathelm, “will you keep it down, morons!”

It took the short legged dwarf another a few seconds to scramble down the side of the wall and then more time yet to gather his weapon, “Sorry about that.”

After the squat little dwarf wandered off another voice came shouting across the divide, “I have to pee.”

The half-breed goblin next to Cleathelm laughed until a well-placed elbow dug into his ribs, but even then he couldn’t help but snicker now and again as they awaited the return of their food.

Milli sat in the narrow confines of her little room, although quite spacious compared to the quarters of the young apprentices, and looked at the frayed and faded gold paint that edged the woodwork trim around the base of her door and sighed deeply. She knew every detail of the room that served as her residence from a time before she could remember. She knew, by heart, the story of how a caravan of dwarf iron traders found her in the smoke filled ruin of her village after an attack by raiders. She’d heard it so often now that when she saw one of the elders giving her that look and the self-satisfied grin that came with it she knew exactly what was coming. Now that she was old enough to recognize the signs she generally fled to the room they gave her all those years ago and waited a few hours. She knew every nook and cranny of the place from the faded gold paint — these dwarves loved their gold — to the smooth marble floors where she broke her nose in a fall as a young girl. The older she got the more male dwarves, both young and old, liked to grab her by the arm and tell her stories about how grateful she should be to have a home here in Craggen Steep, the hidden citadel; how only a few non-dwarves ever lived inside the city in its long, rich history; how she could never go to the outside world where she might betray the secret of its location.

After a bit more staring she went over to a little cherry wood table in the corner of the room that was at just the right height for her to sit and write. It was a gift from a dwarf for her tenth birthday and she ran her finger over the initials carved into the top surface. Wood was a rarity here in Craggen Steep where metal or stone furniture was the norm. She opened a leather bound booklet and flipped through the pages, stopping now and again to read a passage, as a little smile came to her face and the hint of a tear to her eye. “I don’t want to leave but I can’t stand to stay anymore,” she said out-loud just as a firm thump came from the heavy stone door to her right. “Who is it?” she said wearily without looking up from the diary. It was certainly one of the dozen of higher class dwarf suitors that plagued her these days in ever increasing numbers. Of course, they didn’t want wives, no, that would be scandalous as their children would be half-breeds. Pretty mistresses they could shower with gifts and affection was more to their taste.

“The First Edos,” said a gruff voice and Milli’s eyes suddenly opened wide and she scanned the room quickly, her head moving back and forth.

“I’ll be right there,” she said, and immediately darted over to her bed, grabbed some of her underthings, looked around, and then stashed them under the mattress. She glanced around the room a second time, took a step towards the door, then went back over to the desk and shut the dairy, before finally moving to the heavy stone door and opening it with only the slightest pull. “Hello?” she said to the elderly dwarf who stood at the door. Her eyes bulged when she saw the platinum bands, gem encrusted, that served as beard holders and she couldn’t help but give out a little gasp and unconsciously curtseyed. “I… I wasn’t expecting anyone and especially not you, First Edos.”

“I know, I know, dear,” said the dwarf, bowing down just a little so his long beard gently grazed the ground. “Might I come in and talk for a bit?”

Milli’s eyes opened wide and she bobbed her head up and down, “Of course, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude, please, come in,” she said with a wave of her arms as she stood back from the door. “It’s not very roomy, I’m sure you’re used to better, um, would you like some coffee?”

“That would be very nice,” said Fierfelm as he shuffled into the room and took a seat on a small chair in the corner, “you don’t have any pastries by chance? I’ve taken to eating them more and more over the years and I know how you little halflings love to bake.”

Milli shook her head, “I… no, sir, First Edos, I… I can run out and get some, there’s a pastry shop not far from here.”

“No, no, that’s all right dear, it’s just that I’ve grown fond of sweets in my old age, and now, with things the way they are, you never know where your last meal is coming from,” he uttered this last proclamation and sat down with a thump on the sofa near the kitchen. It was made of solid rock although thick cotton stuffed cushions softened the blow and a number of throw pillows, embroidered with pink and yellow hammers, tongs, and bellows, made it more comfortable. “Ahh,” he said, “this is quite nice indeed. So, where is the hidden door to the rest of it?” he asked as he peered around the room with a quizzical expression on his face.

Milli looked around the room, at least three times the size of the quarters of her friends and shook her head, “No hidden doors, I’m afraid this is all there is.”

“Oh, I see, I see,” said Fierfelm as he shook his head sadly. “I was an apprentice metal smith once you know, but that was fifty years ago and it’s hard to remember what that sort of life was like after you’ve been away from it for so long. I didn’t mean any harm; you know how we dwarves love hidden chambers, secret doors, puzzle rooms, and the like. I hope you don’t think me rude?”