0ttis413
Traveler of Oz
Posts: 3
(2/22/06 11:01 pm)
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Fan Fic; The Wonderful Wizard Of Isenguard, Part 1 complete
Just got to looking at the post dates on this board, is this place dead er what!
(Ottis reaches in a drawer and pulls out a pair of socks which he slides onto his hands)
"Well, you might as well post it, looked ok to me" says right hand sock puppet with an air of complete disinterest.
"Yea, maybe that spider crawling on the wall over there will read it, might even like it!" adds the left hand sock puppet, looking at Ottis as if expecting a profound and deep statement in reply.
"Eehh, ok, what the he11." Ottis replies, glancing at the TV guide. "Aint nutten on tv to watch, maybe someone years from now will stumble on it by accident and read it, ok here goes...."
Updated
March 03, 06
March 20, 06
April 07, 06
May 13, 06
A work in progress, some changes to earlier chapters.
****************************
The Wonderful Wizard of Isenguard
Adapted from a story by L. Frank Baum, by Ottis413.
Characters: Dorothy Gale, The Wicked Witch of the West,
Dwarfs; Dwalin, son of Fundin, Ganin, son of Garlin, and Fandin, son of Dwalin,
Hobbits; Trotter Proudfoot, Falco Baggins,
Prolog - The Cyclone
Kansas, 1916
A strange thing happened.
The north and south winds met where a little gray farm house stood, and that made it the exact center of a cyclone. The house whirled around two or three times and rose slowly through the air. There was a little girl inside named Dorothy, she felt as if she were going up in a balloon. The house raised up higher and higher, until it was at the very top of the storm, and there it remained and was carried many miles away as easily as you could carry a feather.
Hour after hour passed away. At first Dorothy wondered if she would be dashed to pieces when the house fell again. But as time passed and nothing terrible happened apart from a loud crash from the roof, which sounded as if part of it had been torn away, she resolved to wait calmly and see what the future would bring. At last she crawled over the swaying floor to her bed, and lay down upon it. Her little dog Toto followed and lay down beside her.
In spite of the swaying of the house and the wailing of the wind, Dorothy soon closed her eyes and fell fast asleep.
Part I; Follow the Great East Road
Chapter 1
Middle Earth, Late August 3001, Third Age.
It was just before sunrise and the small band of Dwarfs had almost finished breaking camp, the sentries had come in and had their breakfast on their feet while helping, everyone was anxious to get back home to The Lonely Mountain before the snows of winter began falling.
The team was hitched to the wagon and Dvalin was tying the last of the lashings when a large rock struck him in the back of the head. Seemingly from nowhere rocks began falling on the Dwarfs, all of whom immeatilly grabbed axes and hunting bows, taking cover where they could find it.
The rocks were coming from behind a small rise a short way from the camp. The Dwarfs who had bows had just started returning fire when, with a sudden gust of wind, a small gray farm house dropped from the sky landing on the very spot from where the rocks had been coming.
Everyone stood staring in shock as the dust settled, two of the Dwarfs had sat Dvalin against a wagon wheel where he was now coming around.
“Wha’ happened?” he asked groggily.
“We were attacked, by some Orcs on the other side of that small hill it seems, but they’re dead now, killed when that farm house landed on ‘em!” Fandin informed him.
Blinking and shaking his head, Dvalin removed his helmet and felt the lump on the back of his head, he seemed more then a little wobbly.
He looked up at Fandin, “well, that was quick thinking’, where’d you find a farm house to throw at ‘em out here?”
**************************
Dorothy was awakened by a shock, so sudden and severe that if she had not been lying on the soft bed she might have been hurt. As it was, the jar made her catch her breath and wonder what had happened. Toto put his cold little nose into her face and whined dismally. Dorothy sat up and noticed that the house was no longer moving; nor was it as dark, for the orange glow of sunrise came in at the window, and as she watched it brightened till it flooded the little room. She sprang from her bed and with Toto at her heels ran out the door which was hanging by one hinge.
The little girl gave a cry of amazement and looked about her, her eyes growing bigger at the strange sight she saw.
The cyclone had set the house down very gently--for a cyclone--in the midst of a country of marvelous beauty. There were lovely patches of greensward, evergreens and stately oak and beech trees scattered all around. Genteelly rolling hills faded into the morning mists to the east. To the north, the ground sloped gradually downhill to a wetland where a flock of geese was taking wing as she watched. A little way off from where the house had came to rest was a small brook, sparkling and murmuring in a voice very pleasant to a little girl who had lived so long on the dry, gray prairies.
While she stood in a state of shock looking at the strange and beautiful sights, she noticed off to one side a group of the oddest people she had ever seen. They were not as big as the grown folk she had always been used to, but neither were they very small. In fact, they were shorter then Dorothy, who was a tall child for her age. But they were, so far as looks go, many years older.
There were nine small men carrying odd looking axes. One had a stout bow at the ready. All were oddly dressed, they wore hooded cloaks of faded colors that rose to a point above their heads. The cloaks of these men were dirty brown and green, one was blue, tho stained and weathered from long use, it was cleaner then those of the other eight. They all had well-worn boots with deep rolls at the tops. These men, Dorothy thought, were about as old as Uncle Henry, for all had beards nearly reaching their belts. But one was doubtless much older. His face was covered with wrinkles, his hair was nearly white, and he walked rather stiffly.
When these people drew near the place where Dorothy was standing outside the doorway, they paused and whispered among themselves, as if unsure of what to say. But the little old man walked right up to Dorothy, made a low bow and said, in a gruff voice:
“We thank you, most noble Elven Princess. We are grateful to you for having killed the two Orcs who had ambushed us, thus saving us the effort of doing it our selves.”
Dorothy was too stunned to notice that, even tho he bowed low, he never took his eyes from her, and didn’t relax the grip on his ax . . .
Dorothy listened to his speech with wonder. What could the little man possibly mean by calling her an Elven Princess, and saying she had killed the Orcs? Dorothy was an innocent, harmless little girl, who had been carried by a cyclone many miles from home, and had never killed anything in her life.
But the little man evidently expected her to answer; so Dorothy said, with some hesitation, “You are very kind, but there must be some mistake, I haven’t killed anything, and I am not an Elven Princess.”
“Well, be that as it may, your house did some killin’ anyway,” replied the little old man with a laugh, “and that is the same thing. See!” he continued, pointing to the corner of the house. “There are four feet, still sticking out from under the edge of your house.”
Dorothy looked, and gave a little cry of fright. There, indeed, just under the corner of the great beam the house rested on, two pairs of feet were sticking out, shod in crude boots with square toes.
“Oh, dear!” cried Dorothy, clasping her hands together in dismay. “The house must have fallen on them. Whatever shall we do?”
“There’s nothing to be done,” said the little man with a shrug. “Besides maybe check their pockets for gold.” He added with a sly smile.
“But who were they?” asked Dorothy.
“They were a pair of Orcs, as I said,” answered the little man. “They had snuck up on us in the dark as we were breaking camp, and had just started bombarding us with great stones when you so thoughtfully dropped your house on them.”
“Who are you?” inquired Dorothy.
“I am Dwalin, son of Fundin, at your service.” He said, giving a quick half bow. “We are traveling smiths and miners, who live in a land far to the East of here.”
“And you are midgets?” asked Dorothy.
“No! We are Dwarfs!” he said loudly and with some force.
“Oh, gracious!” cried Dorothy, who jumped slightly at his retort. “I didn’t know there were real Dwarfs and Orcs outside of faerie tales.”
“Yes, indeed,” answered Dwalin, “I don’t know where you are from, but around here there are Dwarfs, Men, Hobbits, Elves and even Wizards, not to mention evil beasts, like Orcs, Goblins and Trolls.”
“Orcs, Goblins and Trolls, oh my.” Exclaimed Dorothy, placing a hand over her mouth, she was starting to feel rather overwhelmed by all the strange things she was seeing and hearing. “But this just can’t be.” She stammered, “Aunt Em said these things only exist in stories and, and, books and . . . ”
“Who is this, ‘Aunt Em’?” inquired the old Dwarf.
“She is my aunt who lives in Kansas, where I came from,” replied Dorothy, now almost in tears.
He thought for a moment. Then he looked up and said, “I do not know where Cans-ass is, for I have never heard of that country before. But tell me, is it a civilized country?”
“Oh, yes,” replied Dorothy, nodding her head.
“Then that accounts for it. In civilized countries of men they think they know everything.” Said the old Dwarf, shouldering his ax and looking at the sky, he said: “the hour is getting late, and we are behind schedule already. We need to cross the Misty Mountains and reach The Lonely Mountain before the first snowfall.”
“But wherever shall I go, how can I get back home?”
Dorothy began to sob at this, for she felt afraid in this strange land. Her tears seemed to distress the old Dwarf some what, he rolled his eyes and took out his handkerchief and offered it to her. He then pulled his hood back, and absent mindedly spun a loose rivet in the leather and iron helmet he wore, and thought for a moment.
“When we left Bree, Gandalf the Wizard had just arrived, and I heard him tell the innkeeper at ‘The Prancing Pony’ that he would be staying for a couple of days, he might still be there and he would know what to do.”
“Who? A wizard did you say?” asked Dorothy. “And where is Bree.”
“Gandalf is a very wise Wizard, well known to us for many years.” Answered the Dwarf. “As for Bree, this road you see over there leads right to it, follow it westward.”
“How can I get there all by myself?” asked Dorothy.
“Well, you must walk. It is not a long journey. The country is sometimes pleasant and sometimes difficult. However, I will send a couple of my lads to see you safely to Bree and keep you from harm, if they travel lightly they can catch back up to us before we start across the mountains. If not, they can stay the winter at our mine in the hills above Bree.”
“Won't you go with me?” pleaded the girl, who had begun to look upon the old Dwarf as her only friend.
“No, I can’t do that,” he replied, “but I will send some provisions to keep you till you find help. So you should go get your things together for the trip, and we’ll finish breaking camp.”
As Dorothy turned back toward the door, she saw that the other Dwarfs had dragged the dead Orcs out from under the house. They now lay in the grass with their jerkins pulled up over their heads and their pockets turned out. Around them was a large pool of blood which was seeping steadily downhill toward the sparkling brook.
Dorothy had to lean on the wall of the little house and be sick.
************************
When Dorothy entered the house, she sat down at the kitchen table and rested her head on her arms till her head had cleared and her stomach settled somewhat. Then she got up, and set about packing for the journey to the City of Bree.
Dorothy took a large basket from the shelf and filled it with bread from the cupboard, wrapping it in old newspaper, she also took the crock of butter and a bread knife and placed them in the basket as well.
Dorothy had only one other dress, but that happened to be clean and was hanging on a peg beside her bed. She laid it on her bed along with the few other cloths she had and the few things she owned and rolled them up in her blankets, this she tied on each end using the rope that was normally Toto’s leash, making a sling so she could carry the bundle on her shoulder. She also took the small wooden box that her uncle kept his pocket watch, pipe, cigarette makings and some odds and ends in, and placed that in the basket as well.
“Surely this will do for the journey, Toto,” she said. And Toto looked up into her face with his little black eyes and wagged his tail as if to show he knew what she meant.
Finally she put on Uncle Henry’s jacket, which came nearly to her knees, buckled a belt around her waist as tightly as she could, slung her blanket roll on her shoulder, and picked up her basket.
“Come along, Toto,” she said. “We will go to Bree and ask the Wizard how to get back to Kansas again.”
She closed the door with some effort, locked it, and put the key carefully in the pocket of her dress. And so, with Toto trotting along soberly behind her and two Dwarfs leading the way, she started on her journey.
Had she left the house only a few moments later she might have heard a low moan and a curse coming from the attic . . .
*****************************************
Within a short time the three of them were walking briskly toward Bree. The sun shone bright and the birds sang sweetly, and Dorothy did not feel nearly so bad anymore, even though she had been whisked away from her own country and set down in the midst of a strange land.
Dorothy was surprised, as she walked along, to see how pretty the country was about her. Looking at the early fall colors of the trees helped her to forget the sight of the dead Orcs back at the house, as she had left she saw that crows were already picking at them, she had tried to look away but found herself unable (or unwilling? Asked a small voice in her head) to take her eyes from the scene. It was at this point that the thought crept into her mind for the first time that, maybe, she wasn’t quite as good a little girl as she had always thought herself.
The two Dwarfs who had been walking in silence with deep scowls on their faces, (unnoticed by Dorothy), began speaking in their own tongue; “Curse Dwalin! Why did he have to send us off on this, this baby sitting job?! May the spirit of Morgoth invade his bowels . . . ”
“Now, now, no need to get so upset,” said the other Dwarf, “Someone had to do it, we couldn’t very well send her off on her own, and we sure as gas in a mine couldn’t take her with us either.”
“Be that as it may, it seems we always get the stup* jobs. Even if we reach Bree by tomorrow evening, and at this pace that doesn’t seem bloody likely, we’ll have to quick-march for four days and nights to catch back up with Dwalin, I know he’d just love to see us get stuck west of the mountains for the winter.”
They looked back only to see that Dorothy had apparently stopped to examine some fallen leaves in the road, and seemed to be discussing them with the small black beast that had been following her. When she finally started again, she was almost skipping.
“I guess we had better go introduce ourselves, maybe we can get her to hurry up a little.”
********************
*Note; ‘Stup’ means many things in many different languages, and none of them are good.
********************
The two Dwarfs in front of Dorothy had started talking (arguing, by the tone of their voices) in a language Dorothy couldn’t understand, to her it sounded like they had rocks in their mouths. When they suddenly fell back too where she was walking, one on each side of her, Toto gave a low growl to make his feelings known.
“In all the excitement we neglected to introduce ourselves,” said the one to her left, “I’m Ganin, son of Garlin,” “and I’m Fandin, son of Dwalin, at your service.” Said the one on her right. Dorothy looked from one to the other, “Oh, I’m sorry,” she stammered, “I’m Dorothy Gale, of Kansas, pleased to meet you.” She gave a half curtsy, and almost stumbled.
“And what sort of beast is that following you?” asked Ganin.
“Oh, Toto’s no beast, he’s my little doggie’” she replied, looking down at Toto and clicking her tongue.
“Are you saying that’s a kind of dog?” asked Fandin. “Are they good to eat? He’s not even big enough to make a decent pot o’ stew!”
Dorothy stopped so suddenly that the two Dwarfs took a couple of steps further before stopping also, Dorothy stood rooted in place with her mouth open in shock.
“Toto’s not for eating! He’s my friend!” She dropped her basket and grabbed Toto up in her arms, as if expecting them to devour him on the spot. “Don’t tell me you don’t like dogs!”
“Oh I love dogs,” said Fandin, “it’s just that, normally I can’t eat a whole one.”
“My apologies, Ms. Gale,” said Ganin. “But we had never seen such a, a dog, before, and didn’t know its purpose.”
Ganin spoke to Fandin again in Dwarvish; “Don’t tease her so, we need to hurry.”
“But her heads like an empty mineshaft!” replied the other Dwarf.
So with many apologies and assurances that they ‘weren’t going to eat her doggie’, they finally got going again. Fandin lead the way while grumbling under his breath about the time, their slow pace, and his life of bad luck. Ganin followed with a ‘why me’ look on his face, Dorothy whistling and skipping along behind as if nothing had happened, and Toto bringing up the rear.
Chapter 2
The Wicked Witch of the West woke up in total darkness feeling like she had been run over by a heavily laden wagon. After managing to sit upright in the cramped space she realized the darkness was because her hat had been crushed and pushed down over her eyes and ears. After carefully removing it so as not to cause further pain to her bruised and aching head, she saw that she was in the attic of a small house, sunlight streamed through a ragged hole in the roof above her and she was momentarily at a loss as to what had happened.
The witch closed her eyes till her head quit spinning, she had been on her way to see her sister, known as The Wicked Witch of the East, in Colwen Grounds, from where she ruled Munchkinland.
She had been flying on her broom following the line of the Yellow Brick Road through the seemingly endless cornfields that made up most of Munchkinland. She had been taken by surprise by a sudden storm, which seemed to come from nowhere. It was a cyclone, which she thought she could ride out, and was letting the wind take her where it may. But suddenly out of the swirling gloom ahead appeared a small farm house floating along on the updraft of the storm, and the last thing she could remember seeing before colliding with it was a girl in a blue and white dress looking out a window.
She rubbed her eyes for a moment, then stuck her head out of the hole above her expecting to see the vast corn fields of Munchkinland, what she did see made her gasp. Around her she saw the green grass of late summer. The land was of low rolling hills doted with stark looking trees whose leaves fluttered in the wind and the limbs of which rattled like the clicking of dead fingers. Nearby was a dirt road, not one made out of baked yellow clay bricks, but a common rutted wagon road. She could also smell a bog nearby, the odor of damp rotting vegetation strong on the air. This was no part of Oz that she was familiar with. Looking down she saw the two bodies in a pool of drying blood, “well, I don’t think I’m in Munchkinland any more.” She said to herself.
The Witch straightened her hat as best she could and carefully placed it back upon her head, she also checked to make sure her bag of possessions was still on her back, then pulled her broom stick from the broken rafters.
Carefully climbing out onto the roof she gingerly stood with the broom held out in front of her, then quickly threw a leg over it being careful not to slide on the remaining slate shingles. As soon as her weight was upon the broomstick, it snapped, sending her tumbling ungracefully to the ground below. Luckily, one of the dead Orcs broke her fall.
As soon as the Witch was able to take a breath again, she sat up upon the Orc’s chest, pulling her bag around in front of her she quickly pulled from it a crystal globe. She hurriedly checked it for damage, finding none she gave a low sigh of relief. Being much too proud to stop and ask for directions, she used this small crystal ball to find her way when traveling, as well as to look for dangers ahead and behind.
Holding the ball close to her face, she began to chant; “Crystal ball, crystal ball, show me how I got here, show me all.”
At first the ball went black, and the only visible thing was the reflection of her own green face, then suddenly a fiery red eye appeared and filled the globe with flame and shadow. She quickly pushed it aside with her mind, cursing what she believed to be some sort of trick by her sister to scare the Munchkins into line. Her sister also had one of these globes and they occasionally would contact each other through them, but right now The Wicked Witch of the East was the last person she wanted to talk to, admitting she was having trouble would only make things worse next time they met. Admitting she needed help was unthinkable anyway, even to herself.
As the globe cleared, she saw an image of herself crashing into the roof of the flying farmhouse, which was carried by the wind for some time before it came to rest where it now sat. She also saw the little girl come out of the house and talk to some people who looked like Munchkins at first, but they all had long beards and didn’t dress nearly as flashily as even the poorest Munchkin.
She also noticed a small black animal was following the little girl, then the image faded.
It had looked something like a dog, only smaller, she thought to herself. If that was a dog, it wouldn’t even be big enough to make a good sandwich, she decided.
She returned her gaze to the globe in her hands. “Crystal ball, crystal ball, show me the way back, show me, -----Oh CURSES! Just show me how to get back to Munchkinland!”
The crystal ball went dark again, and again the red eye began to appear. She quickly brushed it aside once more, this time a distinct feeling of anger arose and then faded as the image vanished. Slowly an image of Dorothy and two of the little men walking along a road appeared, remained steady for a few moments and faded.
The Witch thought about this for a moment, her patience was wearing thin, then looking again into the ball she asked; “Does this mean that she is going in the right direction? Or that somehow the way back is through her, herself?” The crystal ball dimmed for a moment, then a yellow triangular sign appeared which read; “All indications point to YES.”
Her face turned an ugly shade of purple. It had been one of those days. She sprang up and started jumping violently upon the dead Orc’s chest, cursing in every language she knew and some she didn’t. The very words that came from her mouth (the least of which was ‘Stup’) was turning the grass all around her brown.
When she had regained her composure somewhat, she stared fixedly up the road for a moment, shook her fist in the air and shouted; “I’ll find you my pretty! And your little, dog, thing, too!”
Chapter 3
Fandin and Ganin had given up any hope of getting to Bree before the next evening, Dorothy had insisted on three rest stops, once she had opened up her basket and insisted on making each of them a large slice of buttered bread. She had taken the tip of her bread knife and drawn a large smiling face in the butter. The two dwarfs ate in silence while Dorothy rambled at length about the beauty of the trees, and anything else that she happened to be looking at at the time.
It was getting close to evening, and Dorothy was tired with the long walk and began to wonder where they should pass the night. Eventually they came to a rather large house, which she realized was an Inn, because it had a weathered sign displaying ‘Forsaken Inn’ above the door. There was also a stable and corral on the opposite side of the road.
“The Forsaken Inn, well, we’re so far behind now we might as well go in and have a hot meal and something to damp our thoughts. Then we’ll still have a couple of hours to walk before we make camp for the night.” Fandin declared to the world in general, the two Dwarfs started walking toward the building but then noticed Dorothy hadn’t moved.
“An Inn’s like a bar isn’t it?” Dorothy asked.
“Well,” started Ganin, “I don’t know what a ‘bar’ is like where you come from, but here an ‘Inn’ is just a place for travelers to get something to eat, and a maybe a room for the night.”
“Aunt Emm says that bars are places of drunkenness and dens of iniquity.” Dorothy stated.
“Sounds like my kind of place.” Said Fandin under his breath.
Ganin stepped on Fandin’s toes while replying; “This place is nothing like that. It’s a nice place.”
So after some coaxing, Dorothy and the two Dwarfs entered the Inn, and finding the common room deserted, (it was still early in the evening) they took a table by the fireplace. Since no one seemed to be around, Ganin and Fandin disappeared for a moment to get some food and drink.
Fandin was the first to reappear, carrying three mugs which he sat down on the table. “And a nice pint of ale for each of us.” He said, sliding one toward Dorothy.
“What’s ale?” Dorothy asked, eyeing the mug suspiciously.
“Ale? Well, it’s made out of grains, yeast, sugar and so on, it’s like liquid bread, it’s good for you, drink up!” he said, sitting down with a smile and taking a generous sip of his own.
She eyed it for a moment, then stated; “Well, bread is one of my favorite foods, and I am very hungry . . . ” She picked up the mug with both hands and began drinking.
Ganin appeared carrying a tray of roasted mutton in gravy with a loaf of black bread, and stood by the table watching Dorothy drink.
Finally Dorothy sat the empty mug down in front of her, and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand let fly a loud belch.
“Oh my!” she exclaimed, covering her mouth with both hands.
Ganin eyed the empty mug, then looking at Dorothy asked; “First time?”
“No, I’ve burped lots of times.” She replied.
Ganin opened his mouth to reply, then thinking better of it said nothing. He shifted his gaze to Fandin, who was looking into his own mug with a look of complete innocence on his face.
********Later***************
“Tell us something about where you came from,” said Ganin, when Dorothy had finished her dinner, (and with Fandin’s encouragement and against Ganin’s protests, was working on her third large mug of ale). Fandin rolled his eyes at the question but nodded in agreement with his mouth full. So she told them all about Kansas, and how gray and dry everything was there, how they were barely making ends meet. And then on top of that, a cyclone had carried her to this queer Land of Middle Earth.
They listened carefully, and Fandin said, “I can’t understand why you should wish to leave this country and go back to that dry, gray place you call Cans-ass.”
“I have to get back to Aunt Henry and Uncle M, er, you know, my family, place, home.” Dorothy replied, dipping a piece of bread in her ale and giving it to Toto. “I like thiss ale stuff, itss good.”
Ganin glared at Fandin.
“How far is it to Br . . . Bree?” the girl asked, covering her mouth as she burped again, then downed the remainder of her ale.
“Not very far, but it doesn’t look like were going to go much farther tonight.” Ganin replied, kicking Fandin hard under the table, if not for his heavy boots which came to his knees, there would have been blood.
This reply worried Dorothy a little, but she knew that she needed a lot of help to get back to Kansas again, so she bravely resolved not to complain.
Dorothy’s head slowly bent forward till it came to rest in her plate, mutton gravy bubbled around her face as she began to snore.
Ganin stared for a moment, Dorothy face down in her plate, fork in one hand and an empty mug the other. Slowly he turned to Fandin.
Ganin’s father had always told him to count to ten before saying anything when he was angry. Ganin found this worked well, it let the pressure build up even more before letting somebody really have it.
“YOU MALODOROUS TROLLS ASS!” Ganin shouted, rising from the table. “Now look what you’ve done! We’re going to have to rent a room for the night, and what will someone say if they see two Dwarfs dragging an unconscious young girl into a room at an Inn?!”
“Well how was I to know this would happen! Most humans I know drink ale by the flagon and don’t even belch!” Fandin shouted back, slamming his mug down on the table hard enough to break it.
“Most of the humans you know are Rangers, who can drink lamp oil and piss fire!” Ganin shot back. “So just go find the owner and get us a room for the night with at least three beds and a window she can stick her head out of if need be! I’ll try to wake her at least long enough to walk her to the room!”
Fandin stomped off grumbling about the owner being more interested in examining the undersides of his eyelids then seeing to his customers. While Ganin, thanking the Valar that no one else had entered the common room yet, walked around the table to try to rouse Dorothy.
Ganin pulled her upright by the shoulder, and while coaxing her to ‘wake up’, tried to wipe the gravy from her face with the edge of the tablecloth.
Fandin reappeared with a door key as Dorothy awoke blinking like an owl in the daylight. “The room’s spinning, are we in a cyclone again?” she asked with a giggle as the two Dwarfs hoisted her to her feet, one on each side placing her arms around back of their necks. “I just RUV you two guys.” Dorothy declares, giving each of them a big noogey on their bearded cheeks. “Let’s sing a song, WHY Why Why Delilah...” They were half walking and half dragging her down the hall to their room with Fandin trying to cover her mouth with one hand, when a Hobbit came in the back door with an armload of firewood.
“Trotter! What are you doing here?” Fandin asks the Hobbit in surprise, “ah, and we know how this must look . . . ”
“Well, I know exactly how it looks, but I ain’t sayen’ anything.” Replied Trotter, staring at the three of them for a moment. “I just didn’t think Dwarfs were into that kind of, ah,” he loosened one hand from his load of firewood and gave a side to side waving motion, “thing.”
Dorothy looks at the Hobbit for a moment, “Look! A Dwarf wif no beard.” Then looking down, whispers loudly in Fandin’s ear “Hess got his beard on his feet, don’t he? WHY Why Why D-muf mufgh” Fandin manages to get his hand over her mouth again. She giggled then drifted off to sleep.
“Just open the bleedin’ door for us before someone else comes along and asks more stupid questions!” Fandin growled to Trotter, who hurriedly opened the door and deposited the firewood by the fireplace.
“Well, I’ll just get out of your way now.” Trotter declares as he sidles toward the door.
“Oh no you don’t!” Fandin exclaimed as the two Dwarfs dumped Dorothy on one of the four beds, she then hollers; “I wants some Mexican food, and it better be purdy damn hot!”
“We’re gona’ need some help here.” Fandin almost pleads.
“Now I’m just working off a meal and a couple of drinks that I found I couldn’t pay for,” said Trotter while holding his hands up palms out. “I don’t want any part of any weird business!”
“WHY, why,...why........” Dorothy begins, then starts snoring like a cross-cut saw in dry oak.
“Nothing weird is going on here!” Ganin almost shouts, “We just need you to go back out to the common room and get our gear, and don’t go telling anyone about this.”
“Ok, ok, but you owe me, a meal and something to drink at least, and I don’t mean that Dwarvish way-bread you pack around either, a dinner made in a kitchen with a real meat that you can name, and I don’t mean like ‘Fido’, or ‘Fluffy’, and with cooked or fried potatoes.” Trotter stated as he backed out of the door.
Fandin got up from laying the fire in the fireplace, then stopped and looked around. “Where’s Dorothy?” Ganin turned around to see an open window and an empty bed. “AAAHHhhhh STUP!”
****************************
It was nearly midnight when Ganin and Fandin finally managed to pitch Dorothy back through the window and put her in bed. They had found her wandering around the back of the Inn singing about a tattooed lady named Lydia, and looking for something called a take-out window.
“Now where are you going?” Ganin asked, as he sat down by the fire with an enormous sigh.
“To get some air.” Fandin replied, pausing in the doorway.
“We’ve got air in here.” Ganin said in a low voice, almost a growl.
“I like ale with my air, besides,” Fandin continued after a short pause, “I need to make sure Trotter isn’t running his mouth to anyone about what’s-er-name there.” He said as he quickly swung the door shut behind him.
“And don’t forget to get her little, dog, thing, too!” Ganin shouted as the door slammed.
*****************
The common room had began to fill with travelers as the evening wore on, Fandin found it about half full of Dwarfs, Men and a few Hobbits. After carrying Toto back to their room, he spotted Trotter sitting at the low-bar looking dejectedly into an empty mug. Fandin took a seat between him and a Dwarf he didn’t recognize, and ordered a mug of dark ale.
After introducing himself, the strange Dwarf told him that he and his fellow travelers were delivering a load of packages from Dale to Hobbiton, they were addressed to a ‘Bilbo Baggins.’
“So, you wouldn’t happen to have room for four,” Fandin started, then looked sideways at Trotter. “Make that three, passengers on your wagon would you, we’re heading for Bree, and it would save us a lot of walking.” he asked, a hopeful look on his face.
“I’m afraid not,” the other Dwarf answered, “we’re way overloaded now, couldn’t carry another thing even if it was free gold...”
Fandin’s face fell for a moment, then brightened. “Hey, want a’ fight about it?”
The other Dwarfs face broke into a large grin. “Hey, them’s fightin’ words!” he said and swung his empty mug into the side of Fandin’s head, shattering it.
The two Dwarfs grabbed each other and fell backwards into the floor, kicking, punching and biting as only Dwarfs engaged in their favorite pass-time can.
Everyone around them moved back a few paces without looking up from their drinks, Trotter quickly switched his empty mug with Fandin’s nearly full one and moved a couple of seats further down the bar.
It wasn’t till after he sat down that he realized the Hobbit next to him was Falco Baggins, he quickly got up to move back closer to the fighting Dwarfs, Trotter considered being hit by a flying chair a pleasant alternative to one of Falco’s long-winded stories.
It was too late, Falco had noticed him, and grabbing his arm pulled him back onto the seat.
“Trotter, my lad!” Falco exclaimed, having to speak up to be heard over the din of splintering wood and breaking crockery, which everyone else seemed not to notice. “Long-time-no-see, what have you been up to lately.”
Trotter sighed, resigning himself to his present company. “Oh, you know, working the post mostly, delivering invitations to your cousin Bilbo’s birthday party.” He paused taking a drink from his mug. “I left one at your house, your wife’s looking for you, you know, she seemed really mad.”
“Yes, yes.” Falco said, the smile running away from his face. “Why do you think I’m out here in the middle of no where.” he took a large gulp from his mug. “Hey, not to change the subject, (which was exactly what Falco meant to do) but have I ever told you the story about how I found a great big Troll breaking into my larder one day?”
“Yea, only about a gross of times.” Trotter said under his breath as he took another drink.
“Let me buy you another ale while I tell you.” Falco began the story in his droning monotone as Trotter looked around him for an excuse to leave, Fandin was still fighting happily away with the strange Dwarf, it looked to be a long night.
************Later*********************
Dorothy awoke to the smell of tobacco, her mind was foggy and she had a bit of a headache for some unknown reason. At first she thought she was back in the little farm house with her aunt and uncle. Her uncle Henry liked to smoke foul smelling hand rolled cigarettes that smelled like burning rope, while setting on the little front porch in the evening breeze.
She opened her eyes and then remembered where she was, she dimly recalled coming into this room and laying down, she had been so tired, she must have dozed off at the dinner table. She also remembered the two Dwarfs arguing about something. They argued about everything.
Dorothy looked around the room, Toto was curled up beside her, and her basket and other belongings were on the floor beside her bed. She looked over and saw Ganin sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace, smoking a long stemmed pipe. He had taken off his boots and helmet and had undone the braids in his beard and hair. His hair fell past his shoulders and in the firelight looked more red then brown.
“Where’s Fandin?” she asked.
“He and Trotter went back out to the common room, to get some air.”
After Ganin had explained who and what Trotter was, Dorothy said; “You know, my Uncle Henry hires two farm hands every fall, they argue with each other all the time, Uncle Henry says they argue so much they sound like they’re married. You two sound just like that.”
Ganin took the pipe from his mouth and blew an enormous smoke ring. “Well, I’ll tell you a little secret, we are married.”
Dorothy rolled over and gave Ganin a puzzled look. “I overheard two men talking about that at the general store once, they said that ‘that kind of thing just ain’t natural.’”
Ganin coughed. “No, no, it’s not like that, not like that at all. Let me explain; Dwarf men and women look very much alike, at least to other races, we all have beards and act much the same, and all Dwarfs are referred to as ‘he’ or ‘him’. It’s also considered very impolite to refer to a Dwarfs gender in public, so please keep that in mind,” He added, pointing his pipes stem at her to emphasize the point.
“And you are . . . ?” Dorothy began.
“I’m female, if you must know. Female Dwarfs generally don’t travel abroad, but I’ve never been the stay-at-home type. Fandin’s father Dwalin has never liked my traveling with them, so please don’t tell Fandin I told you, like I said it’s not considered proper for Dwarfs to speak openly of such things.”
“I thought you were, even before I asked, your hair is very pretty.” Dorothy said as she rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Her head was feeling better allready.
“Well thank you.” Said Ganin, leaning back and taking another puff on his pipe. “I keep it washed and brush it fifty strokes every night, but Fandin never notices, keeps my boots and helmet polished up really nice too but does he ever say anything? No, always too busy with other things . . . ”
Ganin went on at length, with Dorothy occasionally asking questions or making comments.
If someone had asked Dorothy if she had been lonely living on the plains of Kansas, she would have reacted with surprise, the question had never occurred to her. She had Toto, and an old book of poetry that had been her mother’s, she also had a sketch book in which she kept a crude diary and doodled in, rather well to tell the truth. But she had no friends, there were only a half dozen other children attending the one room school at which she received her meager education, and none of them were near her own age.
Dorothy had no real sense of being lonely, because she had never been anything but lonely. The only companion Dorothy had ever had was Toto, but he didn’t say much, so she usually did the talking for both of them.
So Dorothy drifted off to sleep again, to the sound of Ganin’s voice expounding on the shortcomings of the average male, and dreamed of family and friends that she had never realized she didn’t have.
Some time later, after Ganin had gone to bed and fallen asleep also, Trotter and Fandin stumbled into the room and flopped down on the empty beds, only then did Fandin realize that Toto had been sick on his pillow.
******The next morning; ****************************
“Dear Diary,” Dorothy wrote;
“I met some Dwarfs yesterday, and they are very interesting! I am traveling with two of them, named Fandin and Ganin. We spent the night at a place called “The Forsaken Inn,” it has good food and rooms and something called ‘ale’, witch Fandin explained is liquid bread and is very very good!
“This morning Ganin and I got up early before the other ‘boys.’ It is such a glorious morning, we built up the fire in the fireplace and went to the wash room to clean up and get ready for the day.
“While there Ganin told me of the place they are from, they live inside a mountain. They even have a ‘King under The Mountain’, but no ‘Queen under the Mountain’. There are no Queens of the Dwarfs. Ganin told me last night that men and women Dwarfs look and act a lot alike and they don’t use words like ‘her’ or ‘she’. Dwarfs are just Dwarfs and are very private about their gender, which most of them don’t seem to consider very important compared to things like mining and smithing anyway.
“If one Dwarf wants to court another, I imagine he would have to be very diplomatic indeed.
“I have been listening to Ganin and Fandin talk in their language, and have been able to pick up a few words, and Ganin has also taught me a few phrases in Dwarfish, like ‘Good morning, Hello, good by’, and ‘your ax is very fierce looking’, but there are some words Fandin uses that Ganin says I shouldn’t repeat . . .
“There is also a Hobbit with us now. His name is Trotter. (Ganin told me girl Hobbits look like girls so I don’t have to worry about that) Ganin told me all about Hobbits. They are only a little shorter then Dwarfs, but have no beards. They do have very large feet with thick hair on them that they have to brush just like the hair on their head, and they almost never wear shoes.
“Hobbits are from a place called “The Shire,” west of Bree, and don’t like to travel much. Ganin told me that it’s unusual to see a Hobbit east of the Forsaken Inn, but Trotter is odd because he likes to have adventures and is likely to show up anywhere there is food.
“At Breakfast this morning, Ganin had a large bowl of hot oatmeal with sliced apples and honey, I had a plate of fried eggs, bacon, fried squash and fried bread, and there was a large pitcher of fresh milk. I had been feeling a little tired but a good breakfast perked me right up!
“Fandin just had a small bowl of soup which he hardly touched because he said he had a headache and didn’t feel well. I told him he had stayed out too late and probably caught something from the chill night air. He asked me if I felt ok, and when I told him I felt just super, he grunted and went outside.
Ganin said that Fandin always catches something when he’s at an Inn.
“Trotter had a BIG breakfast. I wouldn’t have thought a little person could eat so much. He had a big plate of fried eggs, bacon, sausages, hash browns and sliced tomatoes, and with that he had a long round loaf of bread that had been cut lengthwise and toasted with lots of soft butter on it. He washed it all down with a large mug of apple cider. Then had a large piece of berry cobbler too, as he put it, fill in the corners.
“When Fandin came back in, he went to pay our bill, and the owner called him “Stumpy,” I think that wasn’t nice. Fandin hoisted the ax off his shoulder and said a long sentence back to him in Dwarvish, which I’m sure wasn’t nice because the owner ducked behind the counter and wouldn’t come back out.
“I’m writing this down at the table while the others get ready to go, Fandin said Toto could have his soup, that was nice of him, but I’m still not sure what ‘Stup’ means.
Chapter 4
The four of them had been walking at a good pace for about two hours. Trotter was telling Dorothy about Bilbo Baggins upcoming 111th birthday party. Ganin had heard it all before, so he caught up to Fandin, who had not been very talkative all morning.
“You really shouldn’t be using words like that around Dorothy, you know.”
Fandin looked at Ganin. “What words?”
“‘Those words’, you know just the ones I’m talking about, like this morning, young ears shouldn’t have to hear stuff like that.”
“I’ve always talked like that, besides, in these parts’ nobody knows what those words mean.”
“The way you say ‘em, trees would know what they mean!” Ganin replied. “Besides, Dorothy seems to have perfect recall, she hears something once and never forgets.”
Fandin pulled the smoked goggles from his eyes and fastened them to the rim of his helmet. His eyes were red and bloodshot, one was brused. “What’s that you’ve got tied around your neck?” He asked, looking closely at Ganin.
“It’s a neck scarf, you’ve got one too, why do you ask?”
Fandin scowled, “Mine’s brown and made of wool, what is that? Pink? And what’s that pattern on it? Flowers?”
“There daises, Dorothy gave it to me this morning, said it brought out the green in my eyes, fetching, isn’t it?”
“For a Hobbit barmaid maybe, but I think it clashes with your beard and your ax that has ‘Orc Slayer’ engraved on it.”
“It was a gift, for helping her out, it would be rude not to wear it. Besides, I gave her one of my extra throwing axes, so that makes it even, can’t give it back now.” Ganin said as he (she) straightened the scarf under his beard.
******Meanwhile***********
Dorothy had pulled the small ax out of her bed roll and was showing it to Trotter. “I saw men throwing axes something like this at a target at the county fair last summer, didn’t look too hard.” She gave it an experimental swing, causing Trotter to duck and almost lose his pack.
“That’s not how it works.” Trotter said, regaining his balance. “You have to throw it from over your shoulder, with a flick of your wrist. Try throwing it at that.” He said, pointing at a nearby tree.
Dorothy paused in the road, and threw the ax at the appointed tree. To her amazement, a limb dropped down and batted the ax back at her, it landed a couple of paces from where she stood.
“Did you see that?” Dorothy gasped.
“See what?” Trotter asked, he had been repositioning the pack on his back, he then stepped forward and picked the ax up.
“That tree knocked the ax away from it!” she said as Trotter started walking again. She looked at the two Dwarfs, they were apparently arguing again, and hadn’t been paying any attention to what she was doing.
“It just bounced off. It takes practice to throw one of these things right.” Trotter stated, handing the ax back to her as she ran forward to catch up to him. “We have to keep moving if we’re going to get to Bree before too late tonight.”
“I could have sworn . . . ” Dorothy looked at the ax as she walked, it had an intricate geometric pattern engraved on the head, she looked back at the tree, or where she thought the tree had been, it was gone. Or maybe she wasn’t looking in the right place. There were a lot of trees around.
She tucked the ax in her belt and kept walking, Aunt Em was always telling her how silly she was sometimes, so she decided not to say anything more. She didn’t want her new friends to think she was silly, now did she.
*********Meanwhile**************
It was late morning at the ‘Forsaken Inn,’ and Falco Baggins was just finishing his second breakfast (very careful not to spill anything on his fine suit) when he saw something very strange; A tall woman dressed in black with green skin and a wizard-like hat came stomping in the front door. Her eyes immediately locked onto him and she pointed.
“You! Munchkin! I need to talk to you!” She shouted, striding over to his table and sitting down across from him.
“Uh, um, the name’s Baggins, actually, Falco Baggins.” He said, quite surprised, while trying to rise and give a bow. “At your se . . . ”
“Like it matters!” replied the Witch, “I need to get back to Munchkinland, you’re a Munchkin, how did you get here?”
“I’m not a Munc....”
“And there was a little girl and some short bearded fellows came this way, did you see ‘em?!” she leaned further across the table, staring at Falco while he slid further and further down in his seat.
Falco was taken aback by the green faced woman and her questions. “Um, well, I guess that would be Fandin and Ganin, Dwarves, they were taking a human girl to look for a wizard, seems she was lost, I talked to Fandin last night, they left early this morning. And, I’m a Hobbit, from the Shire, not a, a –Much-kin.” By this time all that could be seen above the table was Falco’s eyes and his curly salt and pepper hair.
“I know a Munchkin when I see one! Brass buttons, fat ass and all, don’t play games with me.” The green woman said, reaching across the table, grasping Falco by the hair and pulling him back into an upright seated position. “You mentioned a wizard, where’s his castle?”
“No castle that I know of, Mam, and there’s more then one of ‘em, wizards that is. They don’t stay in any one place very long at a time as far as I know, ‘cept for one, I hear he lives in a tower down south some way, Isenguard, I think it’s called. Heard some Rangers talking about it.” Her stare was intense, he fought the urge to slide under the table again, and couldn’t help fidgeting and stammering. “I don’t know if that’s where they were going or not, he didn’t say. I think they were hunting for the Wizard Gandalf, he visits the Shire once in a while . . .big party coming up....my cousin... ” He stopped again, that stare seemed to be sucking the words out of his mouth. “The one in Isenguard is another one, the head one, I think...”
To Falco’s relief the owner came over to the table at that moment with slate and chalk in hand, and the green woman looked away.
“What can I get for ya’ Mam . . . ” his eyes bulged at the sight of her green face.
The witch slammed a broken broom onto the table.
“Glue, and maybe some stiff wire!” she said.
“Ah, I meant food, eh, Mam.” He said, taking a step back and looking at Falco with a confused expression.
“Oh, ok,” she rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “I could really go for a dog sandwich, extra onions.”
********
After the owner had disappeared into the kitchen promising to ‘see what he could come up with’, both the Witch and Falco turned toward the door as they heard a horse ride up.
A man walked into the Inn and stopped at the counter, Falco immediately recognized him as the very dislikeable Bill Ferny from Bree. The Witch then grabbed Falco by the shoulder and got up from the table. “Time for us to go!” she said and headed across the room to where the traveler stood.
As the man turned the Witch said; “I need your horse, saddle, your coat and any money you happen to have on you.” She glared at the man as he stood staring at her for a moment.
“This has gota’ be about the ugliest thing I ever saw.” Bill said with a leer.
The Witch looked down at Falco. “Well, he’s a Munchkin, what’d you expect, ok, enough chit-chat, the money and coat, fork em’ over.”
Bills leer deepened, he leaned back against the counter and placed his pipe in his mouth. Then blowing a large puff of smoke in the witches face said; “You forgot to say ‘please’.”
The Witch’s face turned an ugly shade of greenish purple. “Oh you really shouldn’t have done that.” She said, “really shouldn’t have.” She gave an evil smile, showing two rows of pointed shark-like teeth.
**********
Falco was trying his best not to fall off the back of the horse, he was sitting on Bills coat with his own small pack on his back and the Witches shoulder bag hanging around his neck. He was trying to stay balanced without actually holding on to the woman in front of him.
“You really didn’t have to do that to him you know, and I could have done without the coat to sit on.” Falco stated as he again shifted his weight trying to balance himself.
“The coat’s for the horses benefit, not your ass’s,” she said, “and as for that fella’ back there, he’ll be able to walk just fine in a week or two. That is, if he can find someone willing to help him pull that pipe out.”
Falco shuddered again as he remembered what the Witch had done with Bill’s long stemmed, and worst of all, lit pipe.
At that very moment a rock came hurtling out of the shadows of the trees and struck the horse in the neck, knocking him down and sending his passengers tumbling.
The horse struggled for a moment before gaining his feet and running on up the road toward Bree. As soon as Falco looked up he saw an Orc looming out of the trees carrying a crude looking rusty sword in a threatening manner. He jumped to his feet and ran as fast as he could in the same direction as the horse.
Falco ran as hard as he could for a few moments, until a scream ending in a moan of agony from behind him froze him in his tracks. He stood rooted in place and slowly turned to look back, but the view behind him was blocked by a rise in the road he had just crossed.
Falco thought for a moment, then cautiously jogged back a way, then got down on his hands and knees to peer over the top of the low hill, at that moment another moan was heard, and Falco rolled back down the rise, white faced and retching at the sight he had just witnessed. He shakily gained his feet and started off toward Bree at a trot, all thoughts of being the hero completely banished from he mind by what he had saw behind him.
**************************
The sky had clouded and the wind was picking up. The four of them had been walking almost non stop all day, The two Dwarfs in front, Dorothy carrying Toto and Trotter walking in the woods beside the road searching for apples.
Dorothy had been talking about how she had spent much of her free time reading books that her school teacher would lend her. Ganin remembered the stories from his childhood, as they walked, his mind wondered back to his youth.
Chapter 5
Ganin’s father had told him stories on nights when he had trouble getting to sleep, (and sometimes when he pretended he couldn’t sleep.) They were stories passed down through generations from the times before the dark days, and his father never tired of telling them.
They were stories of Khazad-dûm, of Moria, in the height of its glory. Beneath Barazinbar, the mighty Redhorn Mountain, the great realm and city of the Dwarrowdelf, In the days of Durin.
The world was fair, the mountains tall,
in Elder days, before the fall
Of mighty kings in Nargothrond
And Gondolin, who now beyond
The Western Seas have passed away:
The world was fair in Durin’s day.
His favorite story was one passed down from a grandfather of his grandfathers, a story of the deepest mines of Khazad-dûm, from whence Moria-silver, or mithril, as it is commonly known in this day, was mined.
Only in the deepest mines was mithril found, deep and north toward Caradhras, down into darkness they delved, even unto the very foundations of the world.
It was here that Ganin’s Grandfather of Grandfathers worked, so far below the Misty Mountains that it was truly a world unto itself, unknown to the sun, moon and stars that shown upon the lands above.
It was here that he walked beneath the earth, between mining shifts, checking for loose ceilings, faults, and gas, before the next shift arrived.
Here he walked in complete silence, and in utter darkness, it was in this place, out of all the crowded and bustling vastness that was Khazad-dûm, that he was truly alone.
And standing before the mine face, bored into the living stone of the earth itself, he would place his ear to the rock wall in front of him, and listen.
It was only here that he could hear it, in the faintest of whispers, the echo of the Valar singing the very world into being.
He would stand mesmerized, listening, and completely at peace with himself.
It was also here that he died. With Durin, Nain, and uncounted other Dwarfs, and they died along with the hopes and dreams of an entire race.
The world is gray, the mountains old,
The forge’s fire is ashen-cold;
No harp is wrung, no hammer falls:
The darkness dwells in Durin’s Halls;
The shadow lies upon his tomb
In Moria, in Khazad-dûm.
Ganin didn’t know why he found the story so fascinating, but he never tired of hearing it. Sometimes he would even dream about it, dream about being deep under the earth, and listening.
One evening in his fourteenth year, his father told him over late mess that their deepest and most productive mine had hit a gas pocket that morning. The crew had pulled out and spent the entire day boring new ventilation holes from the surface. The gas would probably be cleared by the next day, but he and his crew were going to spend the day boring more vents just to be on the safe side.
Ganin didn’t sleep much that night.
***The next morning. ***
The next morning, just after first shift had started and the halls of stone were nearly empty, Ganin took one of his fathers gas proof lamps and walked to the main vertical ways of the mines his father worked. He climbed down the ladders past the upper working levels, keeping his face to the wall so no one would see the short beard that marked him as too young to be there.
Reaching the bottom, he was relived to find it still deserted. Pausing, he sniffed the air, even tho he knew full well that most of the gases that plagued miners were odorless, he did it without thinking.
He checked the flame level of his lamp, the lines etched in the glass between the two levels of rolled mesh told him the air was normal, so he set off at a trot down the main shaft.
He had walked for some twenty minutes when he realized that he was beginning to feel giddy. He looked at his lamp, the flame was lower, down to the air quality line marked ‘poor’, he had come too far to turn back now, just a little further to the mine face, it couldn’t be that far.
He walked on, his mind wandered from one thing to another. When he tripped, he realized he must have been walking in a daze. Looking at his lamp he saw the flame flickering just below the etched line marked ‘DANGER’.
Ganin took off his helmet and wiped his brow, his head throbbed. He was cold but sweating just the same. It was then that he felt a stirring of air on the top of his head. Looking up he saw a hole in the ceiling, doubtless one of the vent holes his father’s crew had bored. Looking down he saw that he had tripped over a boring bit. It must have come loose from the shaft and fallen off when it broke through the ceiling of the mine.
He stood with his head back breathing the wisp of fresh air till his head felt some better, looking around he noticed tools leaning against the walls, he must be quite near the end of the shaft. Walking forward, he found himself strangely elated, lifted by a feeling he didn’t entirely understand.
After only a few minutes he found himself at the very end of the tunnel, his head throbbing again and the lamp only flickering.
He sat down at the mine face, and leaned his head against the stone. He would listen for a couple of minutes and then go back to the vent hole. From there he would hurry back to the rooms he shared with his father and no one would ever know of his foolishness, this mine was nowhere near as deep as Moria, but he felt he had to try anyway.
He turned his head and placed his ear to the bare stone, and in the dead silence, listened.
*****************
Ganin woke up in his own bed. Another Dwarf was leaning over him with a brass funnel like instrument, the flared end against Ganin’s chest and his ear to the small end.
“Heart beat’s strong, no problem there.” Said the Dwarf. He was speaking to someone else, and as his vision cleared, Ganin saw his father, Garlin, standing beside the bed also.
“Ah, he’s awake.” As the Dwarf stood up, Ganin noticed the red and white striped arm band that marked him as a Healer. “I was just telling your father that that was a brave but foolish thing you did, going in after that boring bit like that.” He then frowned and pointed his finger at Ganin. “You need to finish your education before you think about going down into the mines, then you’ll know about ‘blackdamp’ and such, and what precautions to take. So don’t be in such a big a hurry to grow up young master Dwarf, thirty will come soon enough.”
“Now you stay in bed till tomorrow, at least.” He said, then looking at Garlin he continued; “If his headache doesn’t let up, make him some willow-bark tea and call me in the morning.” He then bid them his fair wells and left.
After seeing the Healer to the door, Garlin came back and sat on the bed, reaching out he gave his son’s beard a playful tug. “Beard’s getting longer all the time, be long as mine before you know it.” He paused, looking at Ganin as if for the first time. “Everyone’s talking about how you snuck in to get that bit, trying to impress me, and how lucky you are that I sent someone else in after it, and found you just in the nick of time.” Garlin paused for a moment, his smile fading a little. “Except I didn’t tell you about losing that bit, didn’t tell anyone actually.” He crossed his arms and stared at Ganin with a blank expression.
Ganin didn’t know what to say, but he was relived that no one knew that he had been chasing old stories in the lower mines, he could never have lived that down, if word got out, his friends Fandin and Dvalin would never let him hear the end of it.
He opened his mouth to try to explain what he had been trying to do, but Garlin held up his hand and waved him to silence.
“Just tell me one thing, did you hear anything?”
Ganin sat with his mouth open in surprise for a moment, how had he known? Then when he thought about it, it seemed obvious, his favorite story, and he had been found in the lowest mineshaft. Two and two always make four, as his dad was found of saying. But now that he tried to remember, he realized he couldn’t quite recall what had happened after he had sat down and put his ear to the wall. As he tried to remember, it seemed like a tune or a musical note came to mind, but like a name that can’t quite be remembered, and sits right on the tip of your tongue. Had he heard something? Or was it just his imagination? While he pondered this, he noticed the bemused look on his fathers face, and making a quick decision, he replied;
“No, not a thing sir, nothing at all.”
Garlin gave a quick laugh and slapped his leg. “Don’t feel bad son, to tell the truth, I tried the same thing when I was young, I didn’t hear anything either.” Standing up he continued; “I’d better get back to work, you rest, tomorrow it’s back to your lessons.”
After his father left, Ganin tried again to remember what had happened back in the mineshaft. And again the tune or notes seemed right on the verge of being recalled, but refused to come forward in his mind. He turned down the gas lamp on the wall and slid back down in bed, it was then that he realized his headache had completely disappeared. He drifted off to sleep after a few minutes, and dreamed of white trees blossoming under a swift sunrise.
***************************************
“Do I look like an Elf?”
“What?” Ganin shook his head, coming out of his reverie.
“Well, that Dwarf back at the place where I landed, Dwalin was his name, called me an Elven princess, so, do I look like an Elven Princess?” Dorothy asked. “In all the faerie tales I’ve heard, elves are little people, even smaller then Dwarfs.”
“No, you don’t really,” Ganin replied looking at Dorothy. “Elves are a little taller then men, slender, everybody thinks their blond but most have dark hair and fair skin.”
“Then why did he ask that?”
“Because you took us all by surprise, I’m sure. He didn’t know what to make of you so he said something that he thought would be flattering. The way I understand it most humans find Elves very attractive for some reason, but I can’t see it, that’s for sure.”Ganin said shrugging his shoulders and giving a sour look.
“What kind of faerie tales do they tell where your from?” Trotter asked, he had been walking along behind Ganin and Dorothy trying to overhear their conversation.
“Well there’s one called ‘Snow White and the seven Dwarfs’ about a girl who has to run away from home and ends up living with seven Dwarfs out in the woods.”
“Shhheezz, kinda’ loose morals where your from, ain’t there?” Said Trotter, rolling his eyes.
“And there’s one called ‘The Frog Prince,’ about a woman who kisses a frog so he can turn back into a prince.”
“Dwarfs, and frogs too!” Trotter laughed.
“And one called ‘The Three Billy goats Gruff,’ about a big Troll who ends up getting killed by a billy goat.”
“That sounds like the one that Falco Baggins tells all the time, about how he set his uncle Otho’s goat on a Troll that was chasing him. Goat hit him so hard he broke into gravel. I’ve heard it a hundred times. He tried to tell it to me again last night at the Inn, but he bought me an ale so I let him.” Trotter noticed that everyone was staring at him. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m not the one that made that rubbish up.”
Chapter 6
It was the second morning after Ganin’s trip into the lower mines, and Fandin and Ganin was standing at a worktable in a crowded shop for their biweekly engraving lesson.
Fandin had been grumbling all morning. “I still say you should have come and got me before heading down there, if I couldn’t have talked you out of it I might have at least gone along to help if you got into trouble, which you did by the way.” He added, as if Ganin might have forgotten.
Ganin sighed, he and Fandin had been friends since before they were old enough to stop shaving, and never missed a chance to needle each other.
“I told you, I didn’t go down there trying to look grown up or brave, it was just a spur of the moment idea.”
“‘Brave but stupid’ is what the Healer said, if I remember correctly.” Dvalin, who was standing across the table from them added.
“‘Foolish,’ ‘foolish’ is the word he used, let’s not forget that.” Fandin added with a grin.
Ganin was sure they never would forget that, nor let him forget it, at least till one of their other class mates did something stupid or foolish.
They were only half-heartedly sketching the pattern engraved on the helmet placed in the middle of the table while they talked. Suddenly they noticed the instructor was standing right beside them. He could be very quiet when he wanted to.
“QUIET! If any of you have any plans for qualifying as apprentice, you are going to have to pay ATTENTION!”
Their instructor had lost an eye in the ‘Battle of five armies,’ and had replaced it with a polished silver orb. Rumor among his students was that it was a magic eye that let him see thru the back of his head. Sometimes Ganin wondered if it might be true.
*******
In the weeks and months that followed Ganins trip into the lower mines, he started noticing things that he hadn’t noticed before.
Once when the young Dwarfs had to go up to the surface for a geology lesson, Ganin noticed his first sunrise. He had seen them before, but had not noticed the beauty and majesty of the sun rising over the mist covered mountains. He stopped and stared, it was as if he were looking at poetry, or into a song.
While the other students grumbled about having to come outside at all, Ganin found himself fascinated by all manner of things he had paid no attention to before. Trees, grass and birds, it all seamed new and wonderful to him.
He was standing by an old apple tree looking at the patterns in the leaves, when Fandin walked up behind him and smacked the back of his helmet with the handle of his pick.
“What’d you do that for?” Ganin asked as he straightened the helmet on his head.
“You’ve been walking around all morning in a daze, have you been breathing mine gases again?” Fandin asked with his arms crossed. “You better snap out of it and pay attention if you want to pass the test later, besides, Dvalin said he heard there’s supposed to be an outcropping of gold bearing quartz around here somewhere, maybe we can find it before he does!”
Ganin rolled his eyes dramatically. “Dvalin is always sure he’s found gold, in his bedroom floor, the walls of the smithy, and don’t forget the time he tunneled into the cistern by accident when he was sure that odd colored rock in the storage room wall meant there was gold there.”
Fandin laughed. “Yea, but wouldn’t it be nice to find enough gold to practice our engraving on? Then we wouldn’t have to use those lead plates they give us in class anymore, I’m sure I could do better if I worked with real gold!” he rubbed his hands together greedily. “Hey, we’d better get going, the class is moving on without us.”
Ganin sighed and followed Fandin and the rest of the class to the next outcropping in the low cliff. It seemed he just couldn’t get all worked up about gold like he used too.
**************************
Falco had been walking for about three hours when he finally felt it was safe to stop and rest. He sat down on the edge of the road with his feet dangling over the low bank and started digging in his pack for something to eat.
He hadn’t realized he still had the green woman’s bag till then, he laid it aside and dug a large wax-paper package out of his own pack, and spread out what he considered a poor mid day meal. Two large sausages, a quarter wedge of sharp cheese and half a loaf of rye bread, he was just preparing to dig-in when he heard something coming around the bend in the road from the direction he had just came.
He grabbed the two packs and rolled down the bank, hiding behind a fallen log, he peaked out from under it to see what was had come down the road.
Falco froze, there was an Orc standing in the spot where he had just been siting, looking into the woods. Heaving and foaming like a winded horse the Orc then looked down, and picked up Falco’s pack of food and then continued down the road toward Bree with great lumbering strides.
Falco jumped up and started to chase him till he realized what he was doing, then sat down on the road bank with his head in his hands. First kidnaped by an old Green Woman, then getting all his food stolen by a huge Orc. This was worse then the time the Troll had broken into his larder, and he knew no one really believed that story when he told it. He then swore if he ever got back to Bree he would never set foot beyond the East Gate again.
********************
It was almost dark when the ragtag troop stopped to set up camp. They had hoped to make Bree by late that evening but their speed had been slower then they had hoped, and the moonless night would make it dangerous to walk without torches. Trotter had went into the woods above the road to look for apples and berries, again.
Dorothy sat down on a log in front of their small camp fire, beside the two Dwarfs and asked; “If all Dwarfs are ‘hes’ and ‘hims’, what do you call your mothers?”
Fandin gave Ganin a hard look. “Just what have you been telling her now?”
“Oh Fandin, give it a rest will ya’, she’s going back to Cans-ass anyway and it’s nice to have another female to talk to. So what if I told her about us, she knows not to tell anyone else.” Ganin shot back.
Fandin started turning red and stammering in Dwarvish when Dorothy interrupted. “You know, you two probably wouldn’t argue so much if you showed each other some affection once in a while. Even my Uncle Henry and Aunt Em kiss and hug from time to time, more then that if what I hear some nights is any indication.” She added with a giggle.
Fandin looked as if he were about to burst a blood vessel. “Dwarfs most certainly DO NOT go around hugging and kissing! And, and, just what would you know about that sort of thing anyway?”
“I’ll be sixteen in three months. A lot of girls where I’m from are married by my age. Beside, I grew up on a farm. It wasn’t hard to figure out how things work being around farm animals all the time. Like once I woke up one night, and heard my Uncle Henry tell Aunt Em to ‘squeal like a pig.’ I didn’t know what was going on till one day I heard the pigs squealin’, and after I looked over the fence, I realized what they had been doing . . . ”
“STOP! Stop, that was just a little more information then was necessary, thank you very much!” Ganin said loudly, holding up both hands. “Fandin, why don’t you go and see what’s keeping Trotter, Dorothy and I will, well, we’ll wait here and dig something out of our packs to eat.”
“Best idea I’ve heard all day!” Fandin said as he jumped up and almost ran into the woods above the road.
Dorothy went into the woods below the road to take care of ‘natures business’, as her aunt Em would have put it.
She had no more then entered the shadows under the trees when a large scaly hand clamped over her mouth and a great arm griped her around the waist.
“Make a sound, and I’ll snap y’er neck right here, I would anyway, but she wants ya’ live.” Said a rough voice at her ear. It was a Orc Dorothy realized. The same as the ones back at the farm house.
Gripping her painfully under his arm, the Orc began running at great speed into the deepening gloom under the trees.
End Part I
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Edited by: 0ttis413 at: 5/13/06 2:44 pm
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