Tom Liberman - The Hammer of Fire

“Lower your voice, my friend,” said Borrombus as he positioned his body between Fierfelm and several of the most gaudily bedecked dignitaries in the room who glanced their way with arched eyebrows and little shakes of their heads in disapproval. “I am a member of one of the three families as you well know and a member of the High Council also. The Blackirons are your friend and you have others as well. The young dwarves have heard Corancil speak. They are eager to join the world. Thousands of years of exile from the world. Think of all the dwarf champions and the deeds they could have accomplished.”

“I know that,” said Fierfelm and suddenly the fire went out of his eyes and he looked like a tired old dwarf. He hung his head and grumbled something inaudible but then looked back up at his rotund companion, “It’s just that sometimes I get so frustrated with the interminable slowness with which everything here in Craggen Steep is done. We are mired in ways, the three families, the High Council, even me, the First Edos. Times are changing fast in the world. Corancil conquered the northern realm and took Das’von almost two years ago. Now he plans to move against the nations to the south. He might succeed and conquer the entire world. Our hidden citadel cannot stand up against power like that. We must take action instead of hiding like children. Craggen Steep must strike out into the world, or at least help our dwarf brothers already out there.”

“Your opinion on the matter is well known in council, Fierfelm,” said Borrombus in a hushed tone. “You don’t have to broadcast it at every party we attend. The dwarves of Craggen Steep are slow moving it is true, but if you take things slowly, Dol Delius will get the hammer and perhaps the dwarves will move out into the world. However, if you antagonize the Firefist’s there is nothing the Blackiron’s can do for you. The Firefists have been against you ever since you beat out their sons for the position of chief apprentice. You’ve been First Edos for almost ten years now and they don’t trust you. You’re a Sunspire.”

“I earned that position,” said Fierfelm as he stood up to his full five foot three inches and glared down at Borrombus. “I earned the right to be First Edos ten years before they gave it to me.”

“By Davim you’ve grown crotchety in your old age, Fierfelm. Nobody says you don’t deserve to be First Edos. I’m just trying to give you a little friendly advice. I suggested this little get together so that you might impress the council members and have a better chance in session tomorrow. Now, why don’t you wipe that frown off your face, think about your wife and sons, and then get in there and start schmoozing with the Firefists, Blackirons, and anyone else who has a vote on the council?”

“I know, I know, Borrombus,” said the First Edos with a shrug of his shoulders as he gazed towards the revelers and shook his head. “You’ve been a good friend to me all these years and your advice is always sound. Do you really think there’s a chance they’ll let Delius take the Hammer of Fire out into the world?”

Borrombus smiled warmly and gave Fierfelm a pat on the back with a gentle shove, “You never know unless you try. Now get in there and sell!”

With that the First Edos went off into the party just as a young dwarf with a fierce scar along the left side of his face sidled over to Borrombus, “I couldn’t help but overhear you conversation, uncle,” he said in a low tone. He wore a senior apprentice’s orange jerkin and his long brown hair was unbraided. His beard was scraggly, partially dyed red, and he sneered as he watched the other apprentices in their finest gear trying their best to ingratiate themselves with the powerful dwarves in the room.

The fat dwarf didn’t even bother to look at the young man to his side as he replied, “And?”

“You know there is no chance the council will let that half-blooded tree freak take the Hammer of Fire, why do you encourage him?”

“He’s an old man with a dream, nephew,” replied Borrombus still not looking at the young dwarf. He went on in a low voice that didn’t carry much further than a few feet, “Besides, as long as the council thinks this only about the liberation of the hammer then they aren’t aware of our real scheme. Now, are you here to spoil everything or do you have something important to tell me?”

The rough dwarf nodded his head and fingered his partial beard, the scar on his face didn’t allow for any growth down the side of his left cheek, for a few long seconds before he continued in whispered tones, “The hammer’s guardians are occupied for the moment with a game of dice, but they cannot be distracted for long. The half-breed, Dol Delius, needs to move sometime in the next few hours or there will not be another chance. Once the council session starts in the morning they’ll likely bring the hammer into chambers, and after the petition is rejected they’ll post heavy guards to discourage thievery.”

“You’ve done well, nephew, and will be properly rewarded for your work,” replied Borrombus as he smiled and nodded his head. “Now, keep your eye on Cleathelm, the boy might prove troublesome before this is all over.”

“That idiot,” said the young dwarf with a grimace as he fingered a knife buckled to his belt. “I’ll see to him. We’ve a score to settle from when we were boys,” he continued and one hand came unconsciously to the scar along his face while the other continued to tap at the long dirk strapped at his side.

“No killing,” whispered Borrombus and turned to face the boy with a glare, “we don’t want to bring down the wrath of the Firefists just yet, we do not have enough votes in council nor enough warriors.”

“When will that change?” said the fiery young dwarf, “I grow weary of waiting, as do my friends. Corancil promises much for our services in the coming wars. Gold speaks loudly to dwarven ears.”

Borrombus laughed and shook his head, “Youth, was I ever that young? You must learn patience, nephew. Times are changing in the world and here at Craggen Steep; but you cannot hope to end nigh on five thousand years of tradition in one fell swoop. The Firefists and Drawhammers have much power, far more power than you can imagine. They have access to weapons, magic, that is beyond your ability to fully understand. If we Blackirons are to lead the new regime here, to become partners with Corancil, we must tread cautiously. I’m aware that is a word with which you are unfamiliar. Do not cross me, nephew. I have more to gain than you can imagine but I have much to lose.”

“I do not fear you nor anyone else,” whispered the dwarf back to his elder and once again fingered the long knife at his side, “you’ve always been too much a thinker and not a doer. Craggen Steep is old and tired. The sons of sons of sons are in command and energetic, fresh blood is excluded. That is death for any nation, even one as well guarded and powerful as our own.”

“Cool your ardor, nephew, contact Delius and his friends. Convince them the need for action is urgent but be cautious as well. I know your tendencies and if this plot gets back to the Firefists then all our lives are in jeopardy.”

The young dwarf nodded his head just as Cleathelm Firefist made his way over to the duo. “Hello Uldex, I didn’t think they invited riff-raff such as yourself to these sorts of things but then I remembered that you’re nephew to illustrious Borrombus Blackiron, Councilor Six more formally. Can I have someone get you a drink, something to eat, some proper clothes, a band for your beard, and perhaps even manners might be found somewhere?”

“I’m just leaving, Cleathelm,” said Uldex with a smile and a polite nod of his head. “My mother wanted to know what time Uncle Borrombus would return to the estate this evening as she needs to plan breakfast in the morning. You know how these social occasions can go on all night and tire out our elders.”