Envoys Of The Vow

Chapter 32

Hallega was heath land again, but it had much more tree cover than Cherchefelle had.  Studded with bright pools the land rose and dipped away.  Wide grass paths stretched away in every direction before being obscured by the ferns and gorse bushes.  Smaller paths had cut through to the sand below, it was clearly a horse riders dream.  The ferns covered the ground under the trees with large gorse cover framing the edges of the paths.  It was National Trust land now known as Headley Heath and obviously popular with riders and walkers.

Thomas had led them to the centre of the heath making turns through woods with no obvious routes or markers that Sara could see.  Once in the centre of one of the larger woods a clearing opened up.  There were large mounds of earth covered by lush grass.  Boulders shielded one side and the earth mounds met up with a low stone wall making a small corral.  It had obviously had a purpose in the past but there was no clear meaning for the clearing now.

They rode into the corral and dismounted.  Sara, having learnt from earlier allowed Blaise to lift her off Turaanar, who only lightly nipped at him for once.  As the horses were turned loose Dorowin clicked his fingers and the two ponies disappeared into thin air.

“They prefer the grazing in Arantor.”  He grinned at her, his cheeky face lighting up with the smile.  She wondered, and not for the first time, if this dwarf even knew the meaning of fear.

When the others had disappeared off to busy themselves with jobs around the coral, Sara was left with Dorowin who was unpacking his bag.  Remembering she hadn’t seen Grendor use any magic since they had met she asked.

“Do all dwarves have powers like yours?” 

“None have my power.  No, it was a gift for outstanding feats of bravery in the battlefield.”  He puffed out is chest in pride hooking his thumbs in his belt he strutted up and down making Sara giggle.

“What battle? What happened?” Sara said through the giggles.

“Well princess let me tell you.  It was many reigns ago when the bog walkers, who had been unable to defeat the might of the dwarf lords, went sniveling to the Har’oloth for more help.  An attack force was sent from the outer rim of Núlafalas towards our stronghold in the Grey Mountain.  The Grey Mountain was a trading post back then so many races of Arantor were peacefully gathered there.  The attack came from the south. By the time the warning was sounded we had no time to call in our allies to aid us.  So it left just a small group of dwarf warriors, lead by my good self, to defeat the evil foe.”  His voice dropped low to emphasis the drama of the event.  The humor did not leave his twinkling eyes.

“So we rode out to meet them on our mighty steeds.”  Puffing out his chest again he gripped imaginary reins in one hand and cantered in a circle dramatizing his words.  His sword was clicking of his heeled boot as he cantered adding to the dramatic effect.

“You have met two of the warrior steeds I refer to earlier, Scamp and Wombat.”  Sara creased up laughing.

“Is that their names?”

“And what is wrong with Scamp and Wombat? Perfectly good and regal names.”  Stopping his mad canter he turned to frown at her in mock indignation.

He resumed his cantering as Sara giggled wildly.  “We rode for many miles until we spotted our quarry resting in a small valley beneath us.  We observed them from the high ground that we had on the hill high above them.”  He dropped to the floor on his chest and crawled forward looking sneaky, then stopped and peered over the edge of a small flat rock on the ground to demonstrate how they had observed the attack force.

“Then we struck!  Like a tidal wave of death, we swarmed through them outnumbered fifty to one.  I led the attack with my sword taking down bog walkers ten at a time.  The dawmëoi death cats fell like kittens before me.  The fog cowards ran like water away from us”  He had jumped to his feet and was now sword fighting in front of her, his sword swishing through the air as he parried and thrust. 

“By the time the battle was done Har’oloth death dust littered the floor like autumn leaves.”  Smiling broadly he pulled her to her feet.

“And such was my victory that a beautiful princess from En’Quessir bestowed this magical gift on me.  Such was the gratitude from all across Arantor!”  Proudly he bowed with a flourish, then turned slightly and bowed again, he continued in this fashion in a full circle the entire time making low cheering noises.

Sara had tears of laughter in her eyes again watching the dwarf reenact the battle.

“That is his version of the story, if you halve it you may be somewhere near the truth.”  Grendor had arrived and was looking disapprovingly at Dorowin who was now running round the field with the front of his shirt pulled over his head and arms up in a perfect imitation of a footballer’s goal celebration.

Sara’s eyes still streamed.  “Is he always like this?”

“I would like to say no but I would be lying.  This ridiculous dwarf is Dorowin Blackenbeard, a fabulous warrior with the heart of a lion but a complete clown in all other situations.”  He smiled fondly at his friend leaving Sara in no doubt that he loved Dorowin dearly.

“Was it me that gave him the gift?”  She felt awkward and shy asking the question in case it hadn’t been her.

“It was princess, you also gifted me this power.”  With that he disappeared from sight only to reappear sitting on the other side of her. “Not that he remembers I had some part to play in that battle.”

“Do you really not remember anything at all?”  He became suddenly serious.  Looking at her with concern.

“No, not of anything before my mortal life, some of her skills are returning to me but I have no memory.”  Grendor patted her hand.

“While you are still mortal it is probably best you don’t have your memories.”  He sighed.

“Why not, it would surely make things much less confusing.”

“Aye, that it would, but you would also remember things that mortals should never have to face.”  He smiled kindly at her.

Blaise had arrived and sat down next to her.

“I see Dorowin has been reliving his heroics.”  He grinned at Sara.

“Yes and very dramatic they were too.  He left me in no doubt that the dwarf warriors are far more powerful than the Hîr Ohtacáro.”  She grinned back at him.

“I’m sure he did.” Laughed Blaise who was looking fondly at Dorowin, who had just sprung from behind a rock onto Aelthal’s back and was trying to get the mighty warrior to concede defeat by twisting his ears.

“Come on, let’s find you somewhere private to get changed.”  Blaise pulled Sara to her feet and led her off to the far end of the coral.

Dorowin finally released Aelthal who was rubbing his ears furiously and sat down beside Grendor.

“She really has no memories at all?”  he asked Grendor.

“None, nothing before her mortal life.”

“Then is Blaise doing the right thing?  I know every warrior here would die at his command but what will happen when her memories return?”  Dorowin for once was perfectly serious.

“His love for Linwe is that of legend he would never do anything that would cause her pain.”  Grendor rubbed his brow.

“I know that, it is Blaise that I fear for.  To lose her again will crush him.”  Grendor sighed neither dwarf had any answer.