The Wandering Greenskin

The Heifer in the Well

It's been some time now since I worked as a farmhand, and most of those days have been lost to memory. But I still remember one day quite clearly, when one of the farm heifers managed to slip out of the north pasture and find its way to the bottom of an old nearby well.

It was sometime in late summer, when the heat shimmered on the horizon and the air felt so heavy that one could drink it. The other hands and I were finished with our work for the day and were relaxing in the shade of the barn, some of us lounging while others played a game of horseshoes, when one of the men noticed a sound echoing from somewhere down the fenceline. The rest of us perked our ears up and heard it too, once the horseshoes had stopped clanging.

Figuring it was one of the cats or some other animal, we resolved to ignore it and get on with our resting, but the sound persisted until our patience was too thin to continue tolerating the annoyance. The five of us stood and traced the sound down to a nearby dried up old stone well, grumbling the whole way there.

One of the farm heifers was at the bottom, baying repeatedly. The sight of us didn't seem to calm it, as it's cries only seemed to grow louder. The well was just big enough for it to hold the heifer, but certainly not in any comfortable way. It was my guess that the poor animal had broken a leg or two in the fall.

So we got to figuring out how to pull the beast out, but nobody could think up a way to do it. I suggested lowering someone down to try and grab hold of her, but we figured it wouldn't be safe to get too close, nor would anyone be strong enough to keep a grip on her. One of the other men reminded us that we didn't even have enough rope on hand, further obliterating the suggestion.

A good while was spent pondering how to go about the situation, when a gruff voice spoke up from behind us all, startling everyone. A rather large half-orc had heard the bellowing from the nearby road and come to investigate. Some of the others tensed up at the sight of a greenskin, but nobody said anything. The half-orc asked about the commotion, and one of us told him that a heifer was stuck at the bottom of the well. Without reply, he walked over and peered down the stone lined-shaft, then turned back and began walking to his cart, which I had just noticed was a short ways away.

He was a big fellow, clad in full plate armor save for a helmet, and on his back rested a worn greataxe that looked like it would take two men to wield. I watched him climb into the back of his small cart, and I could hear a number of bumps and shuffles as he rummaged through what must have been a vast collection of belongings crammed into the small space.

All the hands stayed silent, including myself, as he came back with a large coil of braided rope on his shoulder. He made a loop with the rope and tied a slipknot on it, then went back to the well and began lowering it down. He managed to thread the heifers head through the loop, then tried to coax it to lift its front legs through. The heifer was sitting now, and it finally lifted its hoof for a moment, allowing the loop to slide under its shoulder. I thought maybe the half-orc would try and get the other leg through somehow to get the rope under both of its shoulders, but instead he just tightened the loop awkwardly around the thing and took a step back from the edge of the well.

I was about to motion for the others to join me in helping him, but before a word escaped my mouth he leaned back and began heaving the rope up. We all just stared in awe as, bit by bit, he hoisted the heifer further and further up the well. By the time it reached the top, it looked like the rope was about to slip off. Grunting intensely now, the half-orc did one last tug on the rope and pulled the animal up and over the edge, where it quickly stood and stamped its hoof a few times in irritation. It was lucky enough to only be bruised up, as it miraculously didn't seem to have broken any of its limbs. I pulled the rope off, along with the help of some of the other men, and the heifer began moseying back towards the pasture as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile the half-orc undid the knot and coiled the rope back up around his arm as he caught his breath. Some of us thanked him profusely, and I even asked if he'd like to sit for a moment and chat. He politely declined, especially politely being that he was a greenskin, and climbed back onto his cart after throwing the rope in the back.

And with that, he turned and headed back off down the trail, his cart creaking along behind him. Some of the others were still dumbfounded by what they had just witnessed. I was still a bit shocked myself. I've heard orcs are strong, but I didn't think they were able to hoist cows out of pits on a whim. It struck me later that I never caught his name, though I don't think I'll see him again anytime soon. Whoever he was, he surely helped us out of a tricky situation.

(recounted from a previous farmhand)