Markus Heitz - The Dwarves

The sheer size of the trunks took the travelers by surprise; even ten grown men with outstretched arms could not have spanned their girth.

Such was the peacefulness and serenity of the forest that the pain of what they had seen on their journey melted away from them, and they found an inner calm that deepened with every step.

Dusk was falling by the time they reached a building that was roughly equivalent to a dwarven hall. There were no stone columns, of course, only trees whose crowns formed a canopy two hundred paces above the forest floor, keeping out the rain and snow. A profusion of glowworms bathed the interior in welcoming light.

The elves' elegant architecture was the perfect complement to the beauty of the woods. Tungdil had experienced the same feeling in Greenglade, where the carved arches, elven inscriptions, and smooth wooden beams had seemed so at one with the trees.

This corner of Вlandur, as yet unconquered by the Perished Land, was the very essence of harmony. Tiny squares of gold and palandium, each no thicker than gossamer, dangled from the boughs, forming shimmering mosaics that sparkled in the starlight. As the company progressed through the living hall of trees, they passed a hanging mosaic of elven runes so dazzlingly beautiful that they gasped in admiration.

"I'm not saying that I like the pointy-ears," whispered Balyndis, sneaking a sideways glance at the tiles, "but their artwork's pretty good."

"Houses made of trees." Boпndil shook his head doubtfully. "I wouldn't feel comfortable. I'd rather have good solid rock above me. It protects you from the elements and it doesn't burn."

"What about volcanoes?" Rodario asked

"Volcanoes don't burn; lava does," Tungdil corrected him.

"What do you think lava is…" The impresario dried up under Narmora's fierce glare. "There's no point arguing with a dwarf," he finished.

The appearance of the company drew stares from the elves in the hall. It was the first time that a child of the Smith had visited their kingdom, and most of them had never seen a dwarf before.

"They all look the same to me," said Boпndil, voicing his thoughts as freely as ever. Luckily he chose to speak in dwarfish. "Long faces, cheeks as smooth as babies', and so conceited you wouldn't believe. I bet they think Girdlegard should be thankful that they live here at all." He gave his head a little shake and his black plait bounced on his shoulders. "I know it's not their fault that the fifthlings were conquered, but I'm not ready to trust them yet." The smith nodded in agreement.

Tungdil sighed and stuck his thumbs in Giselbert's belt. He was glad that Lot-Ionan had raised him: Unlike his companions, he was able to surmount his antipathy to the elves.

Liъtasil sat down on a wooden throne, the back and arms of which were decorated with rich intarsia of palandium and gold. Amber and semiprecious gems added to the opulence. Stools were brought for the guests, but Djerun had to stand.

Rodario's quill moved tirelessly across the page as he took notes, made sketches, and complimented the elves effusively. Furgas stared reverently at his surroundings, while Narmora's дlf ancestry made it hard for her to relax. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line and she clung to her stool, appearing agitated and unwell.

Liъtasil gave an order, and his attendants brought out bread, water, and other offerings, which they served with visible reluctance to Tungdil and friends. The dwarves, whose presence in Вlandur had obviously caused an upset, weren't familiar with most of the victuals, but felt obliged to eat. Boпndil was the first to take a wary bite.

"I don't care what it tastes like; you'd better not complain or spit it out," Tungdil warned him sharply.

The look of disgust that was beginning to take shape on the warrior's face mutated into a wonky smile. Boпndil forced down his mouthful, swallowed noisily, and reached for some water to wash away the taste. "Don't touch the yellow stuff," was his whispered advice to Balyndis, after which he restricted himself to bread.

More elves arrived in the course of the meal and took their places on carved chairs to either side of their monarch. They eyed the dwarves with interest.

Rodario added a little water to his last remaining drops of ink. "That should do the trick," he said, smiling.

"Perhaps we could speak of the purpose of your visit," began the elven lord. "I shan't be able to reach a decision until you've told me all that has gone before. Speak only the truth; we will know if you try to deceive us."

It's my job to convince them. Tungdil glanced at the others and rose to his feet. He looked into the waiting faces of the elves. Until recently, Liъtasil and his kind had been under suspicion of the most heinous betrayal, but the fifthlings' story had cleared the way for a new beginning. It was up to Tungdil to forge the alliance that the high king had dreamed of. Speak with a scholar's wisdom and authority, he told himself. More nervous than ever, he took a sip of water, stuck his hands in Giselbert's belt, and commenced his account of their journey.

As he talked and talked he saw the stars wander above the glittering mosaics and watched as the dark sky turned a deep shade of blue, the moon paling as the horizon glowed red. Finally, as the sun rose above Girdlegard, sending its rays through the banks of snow-laden cloud, he concluded his report.

Liъtasil's blue eyes had not left him for an instant: He had listened to every word. "I see," he said slowly. "So it started as a contest for the succession and became a mission of far greater consequence. I can see from your faces that the journey has been testing."

"Indeed it has, Lord Liъtasil. The dangers were many, but we survived, and now we're here." Andфkai rose, eyes flashing impatiently, her stormy temperament unwilling to tolerate further delay. "We're running out of time. You've heard what we have to say; make your decision while we still have the choice. Girdlegard will be lost if we don't act soon." She took a step forward, knowing full well how imposing she looked. "What have you decided, Liъtasil?" Her eyes searched his handsome face. "What have the elves decided?"

Underground Network, Elven Kingdom of Вlandur, Girdlegard, Winter, 6234th Solar Cycle Unbelievable!" Boпndil had no intention of letting the matter go. He sat down heavily in a wagon. "How can they need more time? Time to think about what? I've never heard anything so ridiculous! They'll be sorry when Nфd'onn rules Girdlegard and the дlfar chop down their forest to make a bonfire! They won't need time for thinking then!" He thumped the handrail angrily. "I'd like to slice four of those elv-er, orcs-in two!"

What a blow for Gundrabur, thought Tungdil disappointedly. He took a seat beside the warrior. "I know how you feel," he confessed. "I thought Liъtasil would overrule the doubters, but obviously I was wrong."

Furgas, who had been examining the track, took a few steps into the tunnel to assess the condition of the rail. "It looks pretty solid. There's a bit of rust, but nothing serious. It's almost as good as new." Satisfied, he returned to the wagon and sat down beside Narmora. "Let the journey begin."

The company had stayed the night in the forest while the elves were conferring. Вlandur's beds were the softest in Girdlegard, which suited the humans very well. The dwarves, unaccustomed to such luxury, had slept badly and woken up with sore backs. After a simple breakfast, they had packed their things and set out in search of the tunnel. The trapdoor, built into a boulder and camouflaged by a thicket of ferns, had opened without a hitch. Once inside, they had discovered four empty wagons and a ramp.

"Finished," said Rodario, putting away his quill. "You'll be pleased to know that the elves play a none-too-courageous role in this epic." He beamed at them. "Girdlegard will hear how the warriors of Вlandur declined to come to its rescue."