Dennis McCiernan - Into the Forge

"My, my," said Beau at a particular stretch, "no wonder horses can't come, and it's a marvel that ponies do."

Tip nodded in agreement. "I'm of a mind that even the Dwarves must have to sidle along, given the breadth of their shoulders."

And still they twisted and turned and gained ever upward, pausing now and then to set down their packs and rest their weary legs.

"Ungh," groaned Beau at one of the stops, "I'll be sore on the morrow, you can stake your life on that."

"I'd rather not, Beau," replied Tip. "I mean, just going on this little sojourn of ours to Aven, well, we've already staked our lives quite nicely, and I don't care to add something as trivial as sore legs to the wager."

"Oh, don't say that, Tip."

They sat in silence for a moment or more, and then Beau said, "Lor', but I also could use a week or two in a comfortable inn. This walking about and living on jerky and mian and sleeping on the ground isn't for me. And I wouldn't mind a good barrel of beer, too."

Tip nodded, saying, "Perhaps we'll find an inn in Valon."

Loric shook his head. "I would not count on it, my friends, for did not Ralk say that mayhap the foe strides across that realm?"

"Oh, I don't even want to think about that," said Beau. "Let's talk about something else."

Silence again fell among them, but finally Phais said, "Tell me, chier, what didst thou say unto Raggi in the Drimmen tongue?"

Loric turned up a hand. " 'Chakka shok, Chakka cor, ko ka ska.' In Common, that translates as 'Dwarven axes, Dwarven might, come what may.' "

"You speak the Dwarven tongue?" asked Tip, his eyes wide.

Loric grinned. "Aye. Chakur. I learned it long past from a Dwarf named Kelek. We were stranded for three summers on an island in the Bright Sea. He taught me Chakur; I taught him Sylva."

"You'll have to tell me that tale sometime," said Tip.

"One day, Sir Tipperton, but not now, for although we tarry, the sun does not, and we must press on."

Along with the others Tip sighed and stood, lifting his pack and settling it into place, then slinging his lute as well. But before they set out he said, "Alor Loric and Dara Phais, we've known each other a goodly while and I have a formal request to make."

Both Lian looked at him questioningly, for seldom did he address them by their titles.

"It's just this: you insist on calling us 'Sir Tipperton' and 'Sir Beau.' Well, I've had enough of it. And though Beau's a splendid healer, I'm just a plain miller, so from now on I'd rather you drop the 'sir' and simply call me Tip or Tipperton"-he glanced at Beau and found him nodding vigorously-"and perhaps call him Beau. But if you do insist on some kind of formality, then please save it for very special occasions"-Tip gestured about-"and living on dirt and eating rations isn't what I'd call special."

Phais looked at Loric and, at his nod, turned to the Waer-linga. "Agreed, Sir-agreed, Tipperton; agreed, Beau. Mayhap in court we will speak of ye as Sirs, but thou dost speak true in that living on dirt and eating field rations certainly is not special."

Beau laughed, then said, "Not special unless 'specially bad' qualifies."

Grinning all, and with Loric leading and Phais trailing, they set off upslope once again.

"Lor'," said Beau, his voice sounding hollow in the darkness of the narrow way, "Raggi was right. A fat pony couldn't make it. Why, I can reach out and touch both sides."

Though the Warrows walked upright, in the lead Loric stooped low as he made his way through the natural rock tunnel. Bringing up the rear, Phais did the same.

"Huah," grunted Tip. "Not only a fat pony but a tall one as well-neither could make it through… and as I said before, given their shoulders the Dwarves would have to walk sideways."

They rounded a turn and ahead an arch of light showed they had come to the end, and shortly they emerged into the sunlight.

"Two furlongs, I make it," said Loric, ere any could ask.

"Why don't the Dwarves enlarge it?" asked Beau. "I mean, with their skill at carving mountains-"

"Because," interjected Tip, "were it made wider, it likely would become a well-known route. This way the Dwarves keep it hidden. Besides, if they were being pursued, here just one Dwarf could hold off an army of foe." "Oh," said Beau, enlightened, as on down the slope they fared, the path now heading down the opposite side, though crags and bluffs and massifs stood in the way of Valon.

As the day grew toward evening and they took up the trek again, Beau's eyes widened. "I say, Tip, I just thought of something."

Tip looked at Beau, a question in his eyes.

"Just this," said Beau. "Dwarves are not men."

Tip frowned. "And…?"

"Don't you see: 'Seek the aid of those not men,' she said, did Rael, 'to quench the fires of war.' Well, we were aided by the Dwarves-Dwarves who are not men. Perhaps their aid will mean the quenching of the fires of war."

Now Tip's own eyes widened at the thought. "But Beau, that assumes the rede she spoke was meant for us, and I don't see how that can be."

"I don't see how it can be, either, bucco, but let's keep it in mind just in case. Remember, a small event in one place can cause great catastrophe in another; all things are somehow connected, you know."

Tip shook his head but made no reply as onward they pressed down the way.

Down they strode and down, and came to a place where at last they could see out across the land ahead, out where a vast grassy plain swept to the horizon and beyond. Yet Tip gasped in dismay, for in the far distance a pall of black smoke curled into the afternoon sky.

Upon Valon burned War.

They reached the eastern foot of the Walkover just as the waning half-moon rose, shining her argent light aglance across the tall grass of Valon.

"We'll camp here among the concealing crags, then set out on the morrow," said Loric, unbuckling his backpack.

"But what about the smoke we saw, the fire out there on the plains?" asked Beau. "I mean, shouldn't we go see if anyone needs our help?"

Loric glanced at Phais, then shook his head. "I deem we look upon another Stede, another Annory, Sir- Beau. 'Twas entirely too late when first we espied the burning."

Tip nodded glumly. "Besides, it's another good twenty or so miles to the site, and even if we went straightaway without any rest, still we wouldn't get there till late in the morning, perhaps at the noontide."

"Oh, my," said Beau dejectedly. "I was hoping it was closer… in miles as well as time. But to walk all night and not get there till noon, well, to tell the truth, I don't think I can go on without a bit of a lull. I mean, it isn't every day that I've gone climbing with a pack on my back up over the Gunarring and down again."

" 'Tis more or less on our path, Beau," said Phais, "and so the morrow should bring us to what burns upon the plain. But for now thou art right: 'tis rest we need."

Tip set his pack to the ground and sighed in relief, then looked back at the Gunarring. "Will it ever get any easier? This walking about, I mean."

Loric nodded "The farther we walk, the easier 'twill be, for our packs will fare lighter as the food dwindles. Our strength and endurance will grow as we cross the plains unto Darda Galion."

Beau groaned. "Oh, surely we aren't going to have to walk all the way to the Eldwood. I mean, there must be some place we can purchase horses… or ponies."

Kneeling at her backpack and untying the thongs on her bedroll, Phais sighed. "With war upon the land, who can say?"

Tip looked across at the Dara. "How soon will we reach the Eldwood if we go on foot all the way?"

Phais cocked an eyebrow at Loric. "If we tarry not," he replied, "a fortnight and some should see us there."

"A fortnight? fourteen days?"