Ник О'Донохью - Kender, Gully Dwarves, and Gnomes

“Plus it’s a matter of honor, lad,” Dougan said solemnly. “You did lose the bet. And it will be a few days before the gnomes have the ship repaired ...”

“And the women will probably be very grateful!” struck in Sturm.

“All right, we’ll go!” said Tanin. “Though I’d rather face a dragon than fight the power of some sort of weird rock—”

“Ha, ha, dragon!” repeated the dwarf, with a sickly grin that Tanin was too preoccupied to notice.

The brothers and the dwarf walked up to the chief, who was hanging laundry out to dry and keeping an anxious eye on the stew pot to see that it didn’t boil over.

“Listen to me, men!” Tanin called loudly, motioning the warriors of the village to gather around him. “My brothers and the dwarf and I are going to go to the castle of this Lord Gargath to take the Graygem. Would any of you like to come along?”

Glancing at each other, the warriors shook their heads.

“Well, then,” Tanin continued in exasperation, “will any of you go with us as our guide? You can come back when we reach the castle.”

Again, the warriors shook their heads.

“Then we’ll go alone!” Tanin said fiercely. “And we will return with the Graygem or leave our lives in that castle!”

Spinning on his heel, the big man stalked out of the camp, his brothers and the dwarf marching behind. As they left, however, they encountered dark looks from the warriors and heard muttered comments. More than a few shook their fists at them.

“They certainly don’t look pleased,” Tanin muttered. “Especially since we’re the ones facing all the danger. What is it they’re saying?”

“I think it’s just occurred to them that the women will probably be very grateful,” Dougan answered in a low voice.

Sturm later maintained that Tanin should have realized what was going on and kept the dwarf out of the game that night. Tanin retorted that Sturm should stay out of it since he slept through the whole thing. But Palin reminded them both that they were all under the influence of the Graygem at the time, so it probably wouldn’t have made any difference anyway.

They had walked all day, moving easily through the thick jungle, following a trail that had obviously been there for years. The major problem was the heat, which was intense. Sturm and Tanin soon took off their armor and packed it away and finally convinced Palin to strip off his white robes, though he protested long against wandering the wilderness clad only in his undergarments.

“Look,” said Tanin, finally, after Palin was on the verge of collapse, his robes dripping with sweat, “there aren’t any women around, that much we know. Hang your spell bags around your waist. We can always get dressed again before we reach the next village.” Palin reluctantly agreed and, other than taking some ribbing from Sturm about his skinny legs, was thankful he did so. The jungle grew steamier as the sun rose higher. Intermittent rain showers cooled the brothers and the dwarf occasionally, but in the end served only to increase the humidity.

Dougan, however, steadfastly refused to shed so much as his broad-brimmed hat, maintaining that the heat was nothing to a dwarf and ridiculing the humans for their weakness. This he did with perspiration streaming down his face until it dripped off the ends of his moustaches. He marched along with a defiant air, as if daring one of them to say something, and often grumbled that they were slowing him down. Yet Palin saw Dougan more than once, when he thought no one was looking, slump down on a rock, fan himself with his hat, and mop his face with his beard.

By the time they arrived at the next village, which was about a day’s walk through the jungle, all of them—even the dwarf—were so limp and tired that they barely had the strength to put their clothes and their armor back on in order to make an impressive show. Word of their coming must have traveled in some mysterious way (Palin thought he knew, then, the reason for the strange drum beats they’d been hearing), for they were met by the men of the village and the children. The men regarded them coldly (though more than a few eyes flashed at the sight of the elven armor), gave them food and drink, and indicated a hut where they could spend the night. Tanin made a stirring speech about storming Gargath Castle and asked for volunteers.

The only response was dark looks, shuffling feet, and a muttered comment, “I can’t, I got a chicken stewing ...”

This being no more than they had expected, the brothers stripped off their armor and their clothes and went to bed. Their night’s rest was unbroken, save for slapping at some sort of winged, carnivorous insect that apparently had a craving for human flesh, and one other incident.

Around midnight, Tanin was wakened by the dwarf, shaking his shoulder and loudly calling his name.

“Whasit?” mumbled Tanin sleepily, fumbling for his sword.

“Nay, lad, put your weapon away,” said Dougan, hurriedly. “I just need to know something, lad. You and me and your brothers, we’re comrades, aren’t we?”

Tanin recalled, as well as he could recall anything, that the dwarf had seemed particularly anxious about this and had repeated the question several times.

“Yeah, comrades,” Tanin muttered, rolling over.

“What’s mine is yours, yours is mine?” persisted the dwarf, leaning over to look the young man in the face.

“Yeah, yeah.” Tanin waved a hand, brushing away a feeding insect and the dwarf’s beard at the same time.

“Thank you, lad! Thank you,” said Dougan gratefully. “You won’t regret it.”

Tanin said later that the dwarf’s last words, “You won’t regret it,” lingered ominously in his dreams, but he was too tired to wake up and ponder the situation.

As it was, he had plenty of time for pondering the next morning when he woke to find a spear point at his throat and several tall warriors standing over him. A quick glance showed him his brothers in similar circumstances.

“Sturm!” Tanin called, not daring to move and keeping his hands in plain sight. “Palin, wake up!”

His brothers woke quickly at the sound of alarm in his voice, and stared at their captors in sleepy surprise.

“Tanin,” said Palin, keeping his voice even, “what’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out!” Tanin angrily thrust the spear point aside. “What is this nonsense?” he asked, starting to stand up. The spear point was at his throat again, joined, this time, by two more—one at his chest, the other jabbing him in the back.

“Tell them that no matter how grateful the women are, it won’t matter to us!” said Sturm, swallowing and trying in vain to inch backward. The spear followed him. “We’re going to be knights! We’ve taken vows of celibacy ...”

“It’s ... uh ... not the women, lad,” muttered a shamefaced Dougan, entering the hut and thrusting his head in between the warriors. “It’s ... uh ... a matter of honor ... so to speak.The truth of it is, lads,” the dwarf continued with a heart rending sigh, “I got into a wee bit of a game last night.”

“So?” grunted Tanin. “What has that got to do with us?”

“I’ll explain,” Dougan began, licking his lips, his eyes darting from one to the other of the brothers. “I threw the bones well the first hour or two. Won the chief’s feather head-dress and two cows. I was going to quit then, I swear it, but the old boy was upset, and so what could I do but let him try to win them back? My luck was going that good, I bet it all on one toss, plus threw in my axe and my own hat as well.”

Tanin looked at the dwarf’s bare head. “You lost.”