He was appalled by the poor construction of the joints, both of the cross bars, and where the uprights met the stone floor and the roof that was easily several feet above his head. Without his tools though, they might as well have been elven filigree, and he was no master smith.
The lock was a shockingly simply affair. It was too big though, and without something solid to move the inner workings about, it was just as securely locked as a gambling house vault.
"Don't look so down", said one of the other dwarves who had been taken during the raid. They'd never been introduced. "We'll be out of here in time to see the sun come up on a fine day".
"How the...", he started, exasperated, proving to himself that there was always more anger inside, ready to rise up at a moment's notice. "Those", he continued, thick finger jabbing through the bars at the huddled figures around the fire, "are hobgoblins. You know why they took us? You know what they do with dwarves"?
"Well", the other dwarf replied, eyebrows furrowing, "probably going to be one of two things". They raised a hand, one very gnarled and thick finger pointing upwards. "First option would be to eat us, but they killed at least a couple of us when they attacked, so they'll be full for now". A second finger left the heavy fist, "Second, and this is only the better option because we might see sunlight again before we die, is that they'll sell us for slaves".
"Could you try and look like any of this matters to you!" he raged, flecks of spit coating his mustache and beard as he screamed.
"They were with you, weren't they, the couple who got killed? Sorry about that stranger. It's always nice when we get travelling merchants, and I think we let ourselves go a little too much, watches got relaxed, doors weren't left as secured as they should be.
"Folks were wanting to take in the night sky and the fresh air, share some company. We were all looking forward...
"My name's Hezzulin. Snowthane, Silmersdotter, if you want to be official about the whole thing, but most of us aren't", she waved her heavy hand at the other prisoners, most of whom looked asleep or at least relaxed.
"Aye", he replied, "I figured that out pretty quick. The names Thamnat, and if you don't mind me asking, what kind of dwarf is happy to leave the doors open so they can get some air, look up at the stars, or whatever shit you were talking about".
"The kind, who even half pissed, saw off a couple dozen hobgoblins, which is a damned sight better than your lot managed, stranger, so watch your tongue".
He noticed an edge to her voice that was new, and bit his tongue, remembering how right she was.
* * *
Thamnat had heard about the dwarven colony last season, but he'd made his gold long before he had to leave the safety of the mountains. Everyone he spoke to had told him that they were a strange bunch, that worked wood as well as they did metal and stone.
They lived so far down the mountain, it was practically just a hill with a mine underneath it, but after a bad year, with bandits waiting 'round what seemed like every corner, he needed an easier way to make money. So, he traded what he could for the kind of comforts only the mountains could bring, and thought he'd do fine with the hill dwarves.
He had pure soft water, filtered to perfection through the stones of the mountains. He had most of it turned into the kind of beer that'd down an ogre, and filled two whole wagons with it; the hill folk would pay a pretty penny for that, he was sure!
All other space was taken up with small, cheap items made by the mountain dwarves that always made him a profit, and he was sure he could ask even more once he played to the hill dwarves' nostalgia.
All other space was taken up with small, cheap items made by the mountain dwarves that always made him a profit, and he was sure he could ask even more once he played to the hill dwarves' nostalgia.
He hired a few stout lads who were better with their fists than their nimble fingers, strapped an axe or a hammer to each of their backs, and signed them onto retainer. He'd feed and shelter them for the job, then pay them or their family - if they fell in battle - once he was back home.
By the time they'd found the settlement in the foothills, he only had three guards left, so he'd saved some money there. Not like their families could expect full pay for the job, since they'd died before completing the contract!
The walls of the colony had impressed him on the approach, going three quarters round the outer buildings, the sheer stone cliff preventing anything but the most suicidal goblin from entering that way. The stone was well worked, topped with metal spikes that were as decorative as they were deadly, and the heavy wooden doors were bound in iron with stone carvings making them even more heavy and imposing.
They were also, surprisingly, wide open.
Dwarves were positioned in towers ranged along the wall, but only one figure per station, and even as Thamnat approached from a distance, he was sure at least one of the dwarves was asleep. Eventually, he was noticed though, and a horn was sounded, followed by many eyes turning in his direction.
As he approached the open gate, he was met by a dozen well built dwarves, each with a two handed long axe, the bearded blades almost two feet in length. Their armour was superb quality, but very muck lived in. As they closed, he could see the axe blades were recently sharpened, and the handles were smoother in places with use. These were more than just guards, they were fighters.
In the middle of their scrum walked an older dwarf, beard and eyebrows mostly brown, but with unmistakable wisps of grey throughout. He also wore armour, but of a much more casual variety, with lose banding and and very finely engraved metal plates that were clearly more decorative than functional. His smile was wide and welcoming though, and he extended both arms as he strode forward, looking ready to lift Thamnat off his feet in a huge bear hug.
Not knowing how to take this, the traveling merchant just went with it, and returned the hug with as much gusto as he could manage, which after two long weeks of mountain passes, was not even half of the affection that was shown him.
"Good day stranger", the elder bellowed, his bristled mouth too close to Thamnat's ear for comfort, "I am Dhunmolirm, chieftain of this rabble, and I bid you welcome to Dak-Bom! Bring your friends inside, rest your ponies, and enjoy a drink with us"!
"Thank you, thank you", Thamnat replied as he pulled himself free as politely as was possible, "My name is Thamnat, and I am a traveling merchant. I have made my way down the mountain, through treacherous paths, fighting bandits, kobolds, goblins and the very elements themselves, to bring you, noble chieftain..."
"And I bet it was a fine journey full of thrilling tales", interrupted Dhunmolirm, "you must slake your thirst and rest your feet so you may do them justice in our hall, in front of our fire". With a heavy and forceful hand, he directed the newcomer inside, his other hand waving to his people to make everyone welcome.
"We are always so glad to find merry wanderers in our midst. Of course, you have a wanderlust about you, I can tell, I can tell! You must stay a while though, explore our fastness, take of our food and drink", he paused for a moment, and Thamnat thought he might be able to get a few words in, maybe even steer the conversation to trade, but before he could even moisten his lips in preparation, Dhunmolirm continued.
"Although our halls may not be so grand as you would find in the mountain halls that I'm sure you're used to, I'd like to think we still have some charm about us!", he paused, again for just long enough to breath in, not even long enough for Thamnat to get his hopes up, "We welcome you anyway, come, come", and he was away, leaving Thamnat wondering where the dwarven whirlwind of charm had vanished to.
Looking about, he could see him, rousing his fellows to lay on the warmest welcome possible, greeting each of his hired hands in turn, as if they were of equal importance to the man who hired them. Was he really this naive? Thamnat couldn't help but smile to himself, thinking he could add a few coins to price of every item in his wagons, and the old fool would think it the best price in the world!
Still, he needed to get things unloaded and set up before then, putting on a show that would appeal to the sensibilities of these yokels wouldn't be too hard, but done right, could make the trip more than worthwhile, assuming he would survive the trip home. "Come on then lads", he bellowed, waving to his dwarves, "let's get this all inside, so we can unload".
"Sorry boss", he was interrupted by one of the drivers, "the guards here are moving us to set up out here, under the shade of the tree is good enough for mountain dwarves, apparently".
There was no mistaking the sense of hurt pride and condescension in his voice, and Thamnat couldn't blame him. Sure, there were traders aplenty in the high country, moving over peaks or through them, but they were all made to feel welcome by their hosts. Dhunmolirm's attitude seemed to be that they were the most honoured of guests, so why were they to present their wares out where the horses would shit.
He looked toward to entrance of the mine that most of these hill dwarves would call home, and saw that although the entrance was smaller than what he was used to, there was still plenty of room to get each of his carts through without any fear of touching the sides.
With brows furrowed to deep lines, he stared at the heavy doors, open to the sun outside, and the shadows within, but spoke to his driver, "then do as the Dwarf says. We'll do ourselves no favours by arguing right now, but I'm going to have a look what's in there.
"Unload carefully, but something about this place has my knee throbbing, and that never means anything good. We may need to get it all loaded again in a hurry, so don't let any of the lads get too comfortable", he was already walking away, but continuing to speak, the driver forgotten, "Too many trees, too much grass. Too, alive".
With no one appearing to care about him anymore - the well armed guards looking a lot less professional as they joined a growing throng of spectators forming around the wagons - he got close enough to the large doors to peek inside. Even with his Dwarven eyes, it took him a few seconds to adjust to the gloom when he had spent so many days under the blasted sun.
Another step, and the grandeur of the entrance hall was fully visible, and damn him if they weren't throwing a party! Although not all were lit, braziers were being fuelled and small groups of Dwarves were carrying platters big enough that it needed more than one of them to do so safely.
The place was filled with tables, but apart from the Head Dwarves' throne, only one other chair was set up, no doubt for the guest of honour, whoever the hell that was, thought Thamnat. They were obviously loved by the Dwarves here, there was an air of celebration you'd find at the returning of a long lost son, rather than survivors returning from a harsh war. No, if that was the case, there'd still be a sadness for all the Dwarves who never made that long walk home.
This wasn't a party put together to appease a warlord either, to make someone happy who had the power, in their disappointed state of mind, to demand death from anyone who failed to cater to a whim. The bustle was cheery, even though they were busy. From bits of chatter he could overhear, the tone was indeed celebratory.
Indeed, he felt bad interrupting, simply to ask what was now obvious to him, but he was a curios Dwarf, and wanted to know who this clan could be so excited to see. Getting a word in to ask the question was tricky though, as every Dwarf in this hold seemed as chatty as their leader, and as eager to interrupt, or just plain talk over anyone who tried to get in the way of their own conversation.
On his second attempt, his attention was jolted elsewhere when a loud shrieking noise interrupted him not even halfway through his introduction. He'd never heard a creature in pain make such a noise, and the panic he felt was clearly mirrored in those around him. Shouts from outside were mixed with clatters and clangs as trays and flaggons were dropped onto the stone floor.
Thamnat wasted no time, and was sprinting as fast as could back out of the door before most of the Dwarves inside had even realised what they'd dropped. With no ceremony, he dropped his elbow and rammed it anyone who wasn't moving out of the way quick enough. His speed and mass making it easy to move even the famously stout figures of Dwarves without slowing.
With one hand on his brow to keep the bright light of the bastard sun from blinding him, he charged through the gap in the doors to see fire and smoke. Short figures were running through it an a panic, and as the high-pitched wailing started again, many of them threw themselves to the ground.
Not him though. He was a business-dwarf, and his livelihood was in danger. He knew where he needed to be, and although it would put him in danger, it was the only way he'd know that the guards he'd hired were working hard enough to earn the pay they'd agreed on. On he ran then, with calls coming up from behind him to "Protect the vulnerable!", and "Rally at the doors! Form lines, you sods, you know the drill"!
Well, they almost certainly weren't talking to him, Thamnat reasoned, there was only one of him, so forming a line would be a practical impossibility. He ran into the smoke as balls of fire rained down, each screaming like a goblin getting its skin pulled off, driving Dwarves away with terror at the noise and confusion.
As he ran, he noticed other figures moving in the smoke now, but far too tall to be Dwarves. Where they human bandits? Elves maybe, keen to take a slice of a what a hardworking Dwarf had earned? Not on his bloody watch.
He pulled the small hammer from his belt. Unlike those that Dwarven warriors were famous for carrying, this looked like a far more subtle affair than the lump hammers that could smash an Giant's skull in. Although certainly well made, it looked more suited to striking a nail that crushing a chest, but he knew what he was about.
You needed a hell of a lot strength, and the space to get a bloody big swing in to use a warhammer that was all about weight and blunt impact. A little thing like this though could break bones just as surely, and the reverse was a hardened spike that could punch clean through Dwarven plate to the much softer flesh hidden below. A killer's weapon, not one for cleaving through a charge of Orcs, one that needed finesse and a brain behind it, more than a thick arm and a barrel chest.
Of course, steady feet and being able to see where you are going are also absolute necessities, but the thick black smoke was now surrounding him. Because of that, he wasn't sure at first as to what he tripped over, but as he struggled to turn his ankle the correct way round again, he looked down and saw the face of one of his guards.
He couldn't even remember the fellow's name. Something beginning with a "B"? It didn't matter now, with a sideways gash splitting his face across the nose and cheeks, he wasn't going to be claiming his pay at the end of this.
Getting back to his feet, he reclaimed his hammer, and turned, just in time to see the wicked and sharp green features of a hobgoblin leering down at him.
Instinct took over. He stayed low, and swung as quick as he could with his hammer, aiming for the kneecap, sideways on.
Almost ready to fall over due to how low he was and how fast he had charged forward, when he made contact, it span him round almost much as it did the Hobgoblin. He wasn't screaming in pain though, was he?! Knowing full well he was going over, he tucked his head and shoulders down and turned into a clumsy roll, but was still able to find his feet again.
He turned quickly, swinging out high this time towards what he hoped was the face of a hobgoblin, but the smoke was making all of this too hard. Too hard to judge distance. Too hard to make out anything like fine detail. Too hard to breathe.
All he did was push smoke aside, but with a ragged breath drawn in, he reversed his swing, looking forward to jarring impact on his elbow that would sting for a day or two, but would be worth it if he buried the spike right in a bastard ear!
The noise was wrong though, a thud, and he felt it down every inch of his arm, fingers almost going numb from the shock, but he held on, held on as hard as he could and pulled back, but there was too much weight now. He must have spiked a shield! Just pulling, at this angle, against a hobgoblin who would have the shield strapped to him would do no good, but he wasn't going to let go, not yet.
Gripping as tight as he could, he twisted his wrist and could feel wood splintering. He even convinced himself he could hear it tearing, he was applying so much force! Another strong pull, and it would be free!
The lack of sensation terrified him for a second, the darkness of the smoke disappearing into blinding light. He tasted nothing, smelt nothing, could hear only a constant high note that no instrument was playing. Where was he? When did it start to hurt, because it really hurt now.
Everything else was vanishing, like the blackness before it, the light was tunnelling away from him, the whine was fading to nothing, but the pain stayed, his only company as he fell forward.
Not knowing how to take this, the traveling merchant just went with it, and returned the hug with as much gusto as he could manage, which after two long weeks of mountain passes, was not even half of the affection that was shown him.
"Good day stranger", the elder bellowed, his bristled mouth too close to Thamnat's ear for comfort, "I am Dhunmolirm, chieftain of this rabble, and I bid you welcome to Dak-Bom! Bring your friends inside, rest your ponies, and enjoy a drink with us"!
"Thank you, thank you", Thamnat replied as he pulled himself free as politely as was possible, "My name is Thamnat, and I am a traveling merchant. I have made my way down the mountain, through treacherous paths, fighting bandits, kobolds, goblins and the very elements themselves, to bring you, noble chieftain..."
"And I bet it was a fine journey full of thrilling tales", interrupted Dhunmolirm, "you must slake your thirst and rest your feet so you may do them justice in our hall, in front of our fire". With a heavy and forceful hand, he directed the newcomer inside, his other hand waving to his people to make everyone welcome.
"We are always so glad to find merry wanderers in our midst. Of course, you have a wanderlust about you, I can tell, I can tell! You must stay a while though, explore our fastness, take of our food and drink", he paused for a moment, and Thamnat thought he might be able to get a few words in, maybe even steer the conversation to trade, but before he could even moisten his lips in preparation, Dhunmolirm continued.
"Although our halls may not be so grand as you would find in the mountain halls that I'm sure you're used to, I'd like to think we still have some charm about us!", he paused, again for just long enough to breath in, not even long enough for Thamnat to get his hopes up, "We welcome you anyway, come, come", and he was away, leaving Thamnat wondering where the dwarven whirlwind of charm had vanished to.
Looking about, he could see him, rousing his fellows to lay on the warmest welcome possible, greeting each of his hired hands in turn, as if they were of equal importance to the man who hired them. Was he really this naive? Thamnat couldn't help but smile to himself, thinking he could add a few coins to price of every item in his wagons, and the old fool would think it the best price in the world!
Still, he needed to get things unloaded and set up before then, putting on a show that would appeal to the sensibilities of these yokels wouldn't be too hard, but done right, could make the trip more than worthwhile, assuming he would survive the trip home. "Come on then lads", he bellowed, waving to his dwarves, "let's get this all inside, so we can unload".
"Sorry boss", he was interrupted by one of the drivers, "the guards here are moving us to set up out here, under the shade of the tree is good enough for mountain dwarves, apparently".
There was no mistaking the sense of hurt pride and condescension in his voice, and Thamnat couldn't blame him. Sure, there were traders aplenty in the high country, moving over peaks or through them, but they were all made to feel welcome by their hosts. Dhunmolirm's attitude seemed to be that they were the most honoured of guests, so why were they to present their wares out where the horses would shit.
He looked toward to entrance of the mine that most of these hill dwarves would call home, and saw that although the entrance was smaller than what he was used to, there was still plenty of room to get each of his carts through without any fear of touching the sides.
With brows furrowed to deep lines, he stared at the heavy doors, open to the sun outside, and the shadows within, but spoke to his driver, "then do as the Dwarf says. We'll do ourselves no favours by arguing right now, but I'm going to have a look what's in there.
"Unload carefully, but something about this place has my knee throbbing, and that never means anything good. We may need to get it all loaded again in a hurry, so don't let any of the lads get too comfortable", he was already walking away, but continuing to speak, the driver forgotten, "Too many trees, too much grass. Too, alive".
With no one appearing to care about him anymore - the well armed guards looking a lot less professional as they joined a growing throng of spectators forming around the wagons - he got close enough to the large doors to peek inside. Even with his Dwarven eyes, it took him a few seconds to adjust to the gloom when he had spent so many days under the blasted sun.
Another step, and the grandeur of the entrance hall was fully visible, and damn him if they weren't throwing a party! Although not all were lit, braziers were being fuelled and small groups of Dwarves were carrying platters big enough that it needed more than one of them to do so safely.
The place was filled with tables, but apart from the Head Dwarves' throne, only one other chair was set up, no doubt for the guest of honour, whoever the hell that was, thought Thamnat. They were obviously loved by the Dwarves here, there was an air of celebration you'd find at the returning of a long lost son, rather than survivors returning from a harsh war. No, if that was the case, there'd still be a sadness for all the Dwarves who never made that long walk home.
This wasn't a party put together to appease a warlord either, to make someone happy who had the power, in their disappointed state of mind, to demand death from anyone who failed to cater to a whim. The bustle was cheery, even though they were busy. From bits of chatter he could overhear, the tone was indeed celebratory.
Indeed, he felt bad interrupting, simply to ask what was now obvious to him, but he was a curios Dwarf, and wanted to know who this clan could be so excited to see. Getting a word in to ask the question was tricky though, as every Dwarf in this hold seemed as chatty as their leader, and as eager to interrupt, or just plain talk over anyone who tried to get in the way of their own conversation.
On his second attempt, his attention was jolted elsewhere when a loud shrieking noise interrupted him not even halfway through his introduction. He'd never heard a creature in pain make such a noise, and the panic he felt was clearly mirrored in those around him. Shouts from outside were mixed with clatters and clangs as trays and flaggons were dropped onto the stone floor.
Thamnat wasted no time, and was sprinting as fast as could back out of the door before most of the Dwarves inside had even realised what they'd dropped. With no ceremony, he dropped his elbow and rammed it anyone who wasn't moving out of the way quick enough. His speed and mass making it easy to move even the famously stout figures of Dwarves without slowing.
With one hand on his brow to keep the bright light of the bastard sun from blinding him, he charged through the gap in the doors to see fire and smoke. Short figures were running through it an a panic, and as the high-pitched wailing started again, many of them threw themselves to the ground.
Not him though. He was a business-dwarf, and his livelihood was in danger. He knew where he needed to be, and although it would put him in danger, it was the only way he'd know that the guards he'd hired were working hard enough to earn the pay they'd agreed on. On he ran then, with calls coming up from behind him to "Protect the vulnerable!", and "Rally at the doors! Form lines, you sods, you know the drill"!
Well, they almost certainly weren't talking to him, Thamnat reasoned, there was only one of him, so forming a line would be a practical impossibility. He ran into the smoke as balls of fire rained down, each screaming like a goblin getting its skin pulled off, driving Dwarves away with terror at the noise and confusion.
As he ran, he noticed other figures moving in the smoke now, but far too tall to be Dwarves. Where they human bandits? Elves maybe, keen to take a slice of a what a hardworking Dwarf had earned? Not on his bloody watch.
He pulled the small hammer from his belt. Unlike those that Dwarven warriors were famous for carrying, this looked like a far more subtle affair than the lump hammers that could smash an Giant's skull in. Although certainly well made, it looked more suited to striking a nail that crushing a chest, but he knew what he was about.
You needed a hell of a lot strength, and the space to get a bloody big swing in to use a warhammer that was all about weight and blunt impact. A little thing like this though could break bones just as surely, and the reverse was a hardened spike that could punch clean through Dwarven plate to the much softer flesh hidden below. A killer's weapon, not one for cleaving through a charge of Orcs, one that needed finesse and a brain behind it, more than a thick arm and a barrel chest.
Of course, steady feet and being able to see where you are going are also absolute necessities, but the thick black smoke was now surrounding him. Because of that, he wasn't sure at first as to what he tripped over, but as he struggled to turn his ankle the correct way round again, he looked down and saw the face of one of his guards.
He couldn't even remember the fellow's name. Something beginning with a "B"? It didn't matter now, with a sideways gash splitting his face across the nose and cheeks, he wasn't going to be claiming his pay at the end of this.
Getting back to his feet, he reclaimed his hammer, and turned, just in time to see the wicked and sharp green features of a hobgoblin leering down at him.
Instinct took over. He stayed low, and swung as quick as he could with his hammer, aiming for the kneecap, sideways on.
Almost ready to fall over due to how low he was and how fast he had charged forward, when he made contact, it span him round almost much as it did the Hobgoblin. He wasn't screaming in pain though, was he?! Knowing full well he was going over, he tucked his head and shoulders down and turned into a clumsy roll, but was still able to find his feet again.
He turned quickly, swinging out high this time towards what he hoped was the face of a hobgoblin, but the smoke was making all of this too hard. Too hard to judge distance. Too hard to make out anything like fine detail. Too hard to breathe.
All he did was push smoke aside, but with a ragged breath drawn in, he reversed his swing, looking forward to jarring impact on his elbow that would sting for a day or two, but would be worth it if he buried the spike right in a bastard ear!
The noise was wrong though, a thud, and he felt it down every inch of his arm, fingers almost going numb from the shock, but he held on, held on as hard as he could and pulled back, but there was too much weight now. He must have spiked a shield! Just pulling, at this angle, against a hobgoblin who would have the shield strapped to him would do no good, but he wasn't going to let go, not yet.
Gripping as tight as he could, he twisted his wrist and could feel wood splintering. He even convinced himself he could hear it tearing, he was applying so much force! Another strong pull, and it would be free!
The lack of sensation terrified him for a second, the darkness of the smoke disappearing into blinding light. He tasted nothing, smelt nothing, could hear only a constant high note that no instrument was playing. Where was he? When did it start to hurt, because it really hurt now.
Everything else was vanishing, like the blackness before it, the light was tunnelling away from him, the whine was fading to nothing, but the pain stayed, his only company as he fell forward.
* * *
"I suppose you're right", grumbled Thamnat, "but you're still locked in here with me", he gestured to the other dwarves, "and we're not alone, so don't go painting yourselves as perfect warriors".
"Perfect? Nah, you've got me there." She smiled, easily, and that alone infuriated the merchant, who was so deep into his personal woes he couldn't understand why no one else wanted to join him. "Like I say though, good enough to fall back quickly away from the smoke.
"Clever enough to start dropping bolts into the hobgoblins before we had to stop because your lot was still in there protecting the wagons.
"Stupid enough to run back into the smoke because you and your lot was still in there". She was still smiling, but Thamnat could see a curl to the corners that was at his expense.
"Yes, well, thank you and all, but it doesn't look like you did me much good, or my men."
"You're very welcome", Hezzulin replied, sounding far too genuine for Thamnat. "Don't worry though. Just because we weren't great at charging into burning black smoke, doesn't mean we're not going to come and sort this mess out. He was due home yesterday, and and no doubt already on his way to us".
"He?", Thamnat asked, "One dwarf is coming, and you think that'll solve all our problems"?
"Kny-Fia's special", she replied, a note of admiration in her voice, "and he won't be coming alone. He'll make sure everyone's ready, and then plan some daring rescue, and make his entrance like we'd all be dead without him".
"Knife ear? A fucking elf is coming to rescue us?!", Thamnat hadn't even realised that he'd dropped into common when he'd heard the derogatory word, so often spoken in common in taverns the world over. It was only when he heard Dwarven again that the thought struck him.
"You keep talking like that, and the 'us' you think's getting rescued, might not include you". Thamnat turned to see a Dwarf standing a lot closer to him than he was comfortable with, and tried to back away from his growled threat. Heavy iron bars stopped him moving directly way, but he slid along them until he felt his shoulder hit a dead stop.
"You know", Hezzulin said, "we hear a lot about how you high and mountain dwarves don't get along with the Elves, but down here, close to the trees, you learn to be a bit more forgiving.
"I promise you this though, you say one more fucking bad about him, I will be the most unforgiving bitch you ever did lay beady, black little eyes on. Am I fucking clear"?
There was cold hard steel in her voice now, sharp as cut glass with not a thousandth of inch worth of give in it. "Brukhed, leave it", she continued, and it was only when he turned back to the other dwarf that he realised - his attention being so focused on Hezzulin - the one called Brukhed had followed him as he tried to move away, and there was no other direction to go.
With a gruff exhalation of breath, far too close for comfort, he turned a little and backed off. When Thamnat looked back towards Hezzulin, she too had moved away a little, and it was only then he realised it had been a few seconds since he'd inhaled. As much as he tried to do it quietly, to cover his fear, he was sure even the hobgoblins by the entranceway could hear him clearly.
After a few big lungfulls, he started to calm down. There wasn't much he could do other than that, and nowhere for him to go to get away from the clearly mad Dwarves who had such affection for a knife-eared bastard who apparently was coming to save a bunch of Dwarves out of the goodness of his heart.
He knew Elves. Had to deal with them, once. Thankfully, it was only the once, as they were cold as silver and if you weren't one of the fair folk, they'd see fucking you over as a duty. In his case, he'd say they enjoyed it a hell of a lot too. This entire endeavour, from start to finish, when he met this bunch of tree Dwarves, was going to go down in history as one of his worst business decisions. Right then, at that precise moment, he'd leave every wagon behind and the other Dwarves be damned if he could just get the hell away from here and return to the comfort of several thousand tons of stone above his head.
When he heard the click, he didn't even think about it, but the grumbling and growls from the cave entrance changed pitch, and he knew something was going on. He turned his head just in time to see the movement that made him piss himself a little.
From the unworked stone of the cave roof, a figure dropped to the uneven floor. It was tall, at least six foot, with arms slightly out for balance, it's dark brown cloak billowing up as the air lifted it.
When he landed - Thamnat being fairly sure that's what a male Elf looked like - it was onto his toes, and his knees bent only a little to soften the landing, leaving him upright and imposing. Before the cloak had fallen back to his calves, each hand moved with quicksilver speed and was holding an axe.
Thamnat didn't have much time to admire the one in the Elf's right hand, as he quickly pulled it back low before the cloak could drop any further and get tangled up. The underhand throw may lack the strength of lobbing from above, but it was quick as all hell!
Details became clearer then. One of the hobgoblins was already dead, a couple of inches of feathered wood all that was visible of the crossbow bolt that had hit it dead straight in the ear. The axes were dwarven made, each with an extended bearded blade and the kind of detailed engraving that could only be worked by the finest dwarven smiths. The elf had drawn them from what Thamnat guessed were custom sheaths, each with worked leather to keep the blades safe, and toughened hide that would stop the handles from slipping loose but allow them to be pulled free fairly easily.
Oh yes, and a second hobgoblin was dead now too. The axe blade had made contact with its pointy chin, but not stopped there. The length of the blade meant that the end of it was sticking out the green skinned forehead. It had cut the monster neatly in two, halving nose, palete easily, probably giving the hobgoblin a snake's tongue too.
Thamnat could only guess that this was the knife ear they'd been talking about, and so far, he was impressed. Might actually shake his hand, if the fairy would deign to touch him.
There's be time for that though, because the elf wasn't done yet. The remaining axe had somehow managed to jump from the left hand to the right, but did not appear to have bothered using any of the space between, it was done so quickly, and the elf was running.
He covered the space in a second, maybe two, and fought from low down, the axe whipping out in a thigh level slash that opened the thick muscle up, right down to the bone, but without getting lodged. The cut was so close in fact, it didn't even leave a groove in the hard surface.
As he struck low, he flung his left leg wide and planted the ball of his right one into the ground and pivoted on it. This was the first time Thamnat saw him from the front, even for the briefest of moments, and was surprised to see that all the clothing the elf was wearing looked dwarven, and even more shocked at how short cropped his brown hair was!
The third hobgoblin was bellowing in pain as it fell, the leg simply giving way and buckling as he tried to hold it, to keep the thick dark blood from gurgling between the long taloned fingers. The knife ear was stood next to the last upright hobgoblin, who seemed totally fazed by the recent and bloody events. It seemed to Thamnat that the creature was staring directly into his eyes for answers, as if the merchant was the one responsible somehow, and would answer for these crimes.
With a slight sidestep to take into account his reach, the elf whipped his blade upward in a long arc, having spun the blade in his grip just enough that the edge was pointing upward. With a smooth wet sound it swung upwards, only stopping when it was lodged halfway up the hobgoblins face. The blade had caught it under the chin, and momentum and strength had carried it up just past the ear canal before it had gotten wedged.
Looking sidelong at his handiwork, the elf let out a little sigh, then pulled the axe back down and the hobgoblin dropped with it.
"That's what happens when you try to show off", Hezzulin shouted near to him. He turned his head and saw all of the captured dwarves watching raptly through the bars at the spectacle.
"Come on!", he replied, "that first throw was superb! Do you know how close I got to the bone on that cleave"? Seemingly without thinking about it, he swung down and cut three quarters through barely moving hobgoblin, who was laying, drenched in its own blood.
"And don't you got thinking that I didn't mean to go all the way through this fucker's neck, I just couldn't be arsed risking the blade against the bone, and you know it!" He was wiping the thick blood off the blade as he spoke, scraping it away on the chest of a fallen hobgoblin, before he slipped the hatchet back into its sheath.
Thamnat was impressed with the design; the blades were held in place near the bottom of the thigh in a toughened leather holder, worked with intricate designs, and firm enough in shape to hold the blade, but with plenty of room to slip it free. The axe handle was leather wrapped at the top, but it was the length below that that was held in place with a curved horn that had enough give that would allow it be drawn very quickly, but again, hold it firm until it was needed, much closer to the hip.
"Oh, I'll give you that one", replied Hezzulin, "saw that one a mile off, short arse. But I know you meant to take that thing's face off clear. Probably hoping to make Ragnirlun over there retch". She flicked a thumb over her shoulder, indicating a dwarf who Thamnat had to admit did look a little pale behind his whiskers.
Leaning down, he grabbed the handle of the hatchet that was buried in the face of the second hobgoblin to fall, and with a with a quick pull, it came free. "Lost some momentum is all. I thought I was standing a bit further away and could fully extend my arm, but I had to bend at the elbow, and it took away some of the leverage", with a couple of wipes, the second axe was clear of gore, and he slipped it easily into its sheath. "Keys"?
"Crossbow bolt", replied Hezzulin, "which I have to admit was a nice shot. I bet you were up there for ages planning it all, waiting until one of them was turned round just right."
Leaning down to pull a small metal loop of keys from a dirty rope around the hobgoblins waist, he continued, "Nah, only just got in position, and the rocks were loose. Didn't want to hang around too long and risk something falling. Catch." He threw the keys and they saile between a couple of bars into Hezzulin's waiting grasp, and she was soon unlocking the old and rusty lock.
Coming from down entranceway, Thamnat could hear the unmistakable sound of a fight, "I'm guessing they're with you?" He nodded his head in that direction as he stepped out of the cage.
"Aye, didn't want them starting too early and getting these poor bastards all excited. They'll hold position for now, just keeping the hobs busy until we nip in behind them and help with the killing." He reached under the back of his cloak, and with a quiet click, pulled a crossbow out and handed it to Hezzulin. "If the rest of you want weapons, you'll have to find them lying around somewhere. She's the only one I trust with that."
As she took it, he was also passing over a quarrel with at least a dozen bolts left in it, but her eyes lit up when she took in the fine craftsmanship on display, "I've missed you", she said.
"I know you made it, but it's only a bloody crossbow Hezz! Notice you didn't seem as enraptured when I showed up and saved the day!"
"Oh, don't worry you fat bugger, I missed you too", she said, a chuckle in her voice as the elf leaned down and kissed her tenderly on the lips. Dropping the quarrel, she reached up to take the back of his head to hold him close.
Thamnat's mouth was gaped open at the sight, his stomach turning in revulsion, when he noticed the shape of Brukhed who had managed to silently move until he was stood right at his elbow, and spoke softly, but with a sharp edge to his words, "They've known each other since they were kids, grew up together. If you're thinking of making a point about this, I'd remind you how bloody dangerous he is, and how angry Hezzulin can get".
