Chương 4

On the road from Pinefell to Hoofcross, Empire Mainland Gravelbrook Dura, First Daughter of Clan Gravelbrook Grandfather often said that the best elf was the one that you never spoke to. Even on their good days elves were bothersome, carrying themselves with an undeserved combination of arrogance and self-righteousness that infuriated any good and humble dwarf. He claimed his horns grew an inch every time he was forced to interact with one.

Grandfather was already about ten feet tall, and had horns big enough for all of her younger sisters to hang off of at the same time. She was fairly certain that he was exaggerating, even if every other dwarf of the hold she'd spoken to agreed on the matter.

'Taller goblins that think they're better than you', was how elves were sometimes described.

'Thank the saints that they stay in their forests nine times out of ten! It's the tenth of times that you have to be wary of. An elf that feels the need to leave is a troublemaker, sight-seer, or a hero, and if there's a hero riding out then some very bad times are about to fall upon us all.'

Great-Grandfather, long having grown too tall to fit in the smaller chambers of their clan and with a beard longer than some of the tapestries of their home, had rumbled to her with aged and heavy eyes once, in the brief hours he was awake. Dura supposed that she was experiencing one of those rare, one in ten encounters with an elf. Mallorn's ears twitched in response to some sound that she couldn't parse, his head tilting slightly to allow for better hearing.

They stuck out of the side of his dark-brown helmet, which otherwise covered the back, the top, and the front of his head. Much the same as dwarven helms making allowances for their horns, simply shaped differently. The front of the helm was a mask of the same dark material, which was smooth save for the holes for sight and accents of white and gold filigree. From the side of the mask, through the slots that allowed for the ears to pass through, she could see glimpses of his jaw and flashes of neckline.

This neck disappeared into a hardened collar of leather and yet more dark brown plates, and then into a sort of half-plate that covered broad sections of his body, but lacked many of the smaller, finer components that would normally cover exploitable gaps. These gaps were instead covered in shrouds and wreaths of hardened leather, behind which no actual skin was visible save for the exposed fingertips.

These allowed him to fire those arrows, and a segment of the gauntlet above folded down to cover the hands in closer combat. Wood and leather. She didn't know how he had gotten scammed into accepting it as armor, but she couldn't help but pity him for it. Armor was supposed to be made of good metal, bronze or steel or anything, not wood of all things. She had heard that elves use wooden armor, but she had thought that was metaphorical, not literal.

Mallorn was working to change that, at least, so he probably wasn't all that bad for an elf.

"Look at me long time, hm?" He spoke, turning down to look at her and speaking in basic but unstuttered mannish. His tone was teasing behind the featureless warmask, and his ears twitched down in a manner she had begun to recognize as amused." Melu Naugren." Words in Elvish she didn't recognize. There were still many of those, despite her efforts to understand the very strange elf who had taken it upon himself to escort her from his woods. She assumed they were his woods, at least.

Mere good fortune that the goblins took her up to someone else's doorstep, and that he was hospitable enough to make sure a guest returned home safely. She huffed, turning away and looking out towards the winding and shoddily wrought road.

Not a single paved stone in sight, as it led from the logging village and down towards Hoofcross. The river had no banks built up to control its flows and floods, the road-shrines were made of wood, and overall everything she could see was impermanent construction. Every dwarf knew two things as truth. The first was that proper construction used stone. The second was that a proper dwarf was uffish. With that in mind, she had her reply.

"Your armor is ugly, difficult to not look," she said with a matter-of-fact nod.

"Hm! Yes yes. A good reason." He spoke in smooth rolls and turns of the tone, like water-carved tunnels that had never seen the sun.

"I trust you." His tone indicated anything but, with a light-hearted undertone and a nod of sincerity. His ears twitched to the side once more, bringing his attention away from her before she could reply.

"... What do you hear?" she asked after a moment, tilting her head slightly and looking up to him. Elves were born rather tall, from what she knew, but stopped growing completely after a point. They were much like humans in this way, in a rush to get large and then falling short at the end. Dwarves, slow and steady as they were, ended up much larger than anything else. It was only natural, after all.

"We are followed," he explained in a casual manner, making her heart skip a beat, a tilt of his ears indicated that he was considering something. He didn't seem overly worried about the current situation, so she forced herself to relax and dismiss the sudden images of green skin and hooked noses.

"B-by what?" she asked after a moment.

"Do not know." His ears twitched again as he raised a hand and pointed.

"Wind that way, no scent. Sound is not shoe. It's…" He looked down and to the side, face hidden behind his wooden mask.

"Hard foot. Loroh." Then he made a sort of downwards knocking motion and clicked his tongue a few times. Hard foot, knocking motion, clicking… She furrowed her brows.

"Goat?" She asked, trying to puzzle out what he was referencing, raising her hands up to extend her horns with curled fists. He shook his head, then made an expanding motion with his hands.

"More Big."

"Bull." She changed her hand-shape to a different horn-shape.

"No horns." He waved his hands in denial. Hooves, bigger than a goat, no horns… Her expression turned to one of realization.

"Horse?" She raised her hands up in the same sort of clopping motion that he was doing earlier.

"Neigh?" He paused at that, before reaching up a hand to smack at his own face. She tried to hold back her giggle at that clear gesture of 'why didn't I think of that', but was unsuccessful.

"Yes," he replied with a rueful tone.

"Neigh. Rok. One I think. Four clop-songs, four hard-feet. That direction," he added with a point of his finger to their left and back a slight ways. She frowned and considered that for a few moments.

"How do you know it follows us?"

"Direction change." He raised his hands in a prayerlike gesture, then turned one away.

"We walk on road. Sound only gets closer. If going to road, then cross road far back." He shook his head.

"Follow us, track somehow. Wind not right for smell." She swallowed, and considered that. If there were hooves following them, then that meant a horse. A wild horse wouldn't be following them like this, so that meant it had to have a rider. She angled her walking to be a half-step closer to Mallorn, and replied.

"What will we do?" she asked, reaching down and grabbing at the manknife at her belt. It was a poor working, but far better than any of the goblinknives she had traded for it. Not that she had any real expectation of being useful in a battle to come. The daughter of a milling clan preparing for a betroathal and decades of having children hardly made for an effective combatant. Especially not compared to- Four thunks and strangled gasps of pain. A flash of panic. Her captor's tense and sudden threats.

A tall figure falling from above like a furious stalactite. A blank wooden face. Bright green eyes. A gentle smile. -Mallorn gave a brief hum, before tilting his head.

"Wait, then speak," he eventually declared. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. She considered that, before giving a somewhat disgruntled noise.

"Wait and speak? What if it's an enemy!?"

"Then I fight," he replied easily, reaching up to take the bowstring from where it hung loosely over his neck and stopping to string the heavy longbow hanging from hooks on his belt.

"And if they are stronger than you?" She reached up to poke him sharply in the abdomen, hand smacked away quickly by one of his.

"Then I win with smart." He reached up to adjust the quiver on his back, drawing four arrows from the bunch and carrying them in his draw-hand. He still sounded utterly unconcerned with the potential threat approaching them.

"And if you can't?" She was still less than impressed with his reasoning. He visibly stopped to consider that for a moment, raising a finger to tap at his chin as he thought. Eventually, he declared confidently.

"I die. Very funny." She grabbed him by the side and did her best to shake him about, an angry growl in the back of her throat, which only intensified with the barks of laughter from the tall, stupid elf. She was starting to understand the words of her elders. — Mallorn The hoofbeats kept a relaxed pace as they approached, closer and closer from very far away. It was only the breaking of the treeline at the edge of more open plains that allowed him to hear them at all.

It took another minute or two for them to actually arrive after first hearing, more than long enough for Mallorn to gently guide the dwarf under his protection towards more open ground, where his arrows will be more effective. A horse would be more effective too, but he was betting on being able to hit a moving target faster than the moving target could hit him.

This was all paranoia anyways, it was entirely possible that whoever was currently approaching had no hostile intent and was just tracking them for an invitation to a bake sale. He somehow doubted that, but there was no harm in starting with a friendly chat. He glanced down at the nervous looking dwarf, who was currently half-hidden behind his leg and torso. Well, no harm in starting with a friendly chat, assuming there are no hostages in the scene.

He would've told her to stop pressing her bust into his rear, but he didn't know all those words yet, so he instead resolved to ignore it. He huffed in faint amusement as the horse and rider came over a distant ridge-line beyond the plain leading down to the riverside road, and paused to evaluate them at a distance. Mallorn could make out most of his features from here, and it was most certainly a he.

A human man on a grey stallion, with dark gambeson and a hooded cloak, with a crossbow strapped to the saddlebags and a hatchet strapped to his belt loop. He wasn't quite close enough to make out the eye color, but his hair was a deep black, and his skin lightly tanned. The man considered them for a moment, clearly seeing that they could see him, and raised his hand in a greeting. Mallorn raised a hand back.

With that, the man dropped his hand and ushered the horse forwards with a relaxed trot, coming down across the field of poppies and haygrass and towards them, hands clearly raised and holding the reins. A show that he was not reaching for his weapons, then." Greetings!" the man called out, most surprisingly, in Elvish. Mallon felt an ear twitch." Greetings, friend. Why are you following us?"

The man was somewhat taken aback by the direction questioning, reaching up to scratch at the thin mustache and beard on his face. The eyes were cold and evaluating, but not inherently hostile." Why? Well, being blunt with you, friend, my mistress sent me here to extend an invitation."" An invitation?" Mallorn made sure to let his suspicion be audible. The man nodded in a distinctly untroubled manner." Yes, but being honest with you, it's more of an assessment of character.

The last elf to come through the way you did left quite the poor impression, and she'd very much like to not let the next go unheeded." Mallorn sighed, letting his ears fall flat and reaching up to tap two fingers against his mask. Somehow, he was entirely unsurprised, and found that he couldn't exactly blame whoever this mistress was for the reasoning." And how did you pursue me?" he asked the next pertinent question." My mistress laid a spell somewhere that did… uh…

"He raised a hand and rotated it around in a lost manner. Eventually, he just gave up entirely and raised his other hand, showing a sort of compass pointed in his direction." It's some manner of magic. I'll be honest and say I don't rightly understand it." Detect all elves? That would be too inconsistent. Detect elves that emerge from the Greenwood, or from outside the borders? Again too inconsistent, the world was a big place and there were probably many elves wandering around.

Detect elves in a vicinity that are not behind wards? A maybe, but that seemed like the wrong way to go about it. If you wanted to trap a rabbit, you lay a trap outside its burrow. A spell around the perimeter of the Greenwood that marks elves that pass by, and a compass that homes in on those marked by the spell. That was annoying, if true. He'd need to ask whoever this mistress is to remove it, and that meant going to talk to her.

He didn't have much reason to not go talk to her, with her entirely justified reasoning, but the chance remained that the fellow before him was lying." I would be happy to go meet your mistress, but I have a duty to attend first,"Mallorn declared, reaching over to pat Dura on the head. She let out a cute lil yelp as her tension was interrupted with the random physical gesture." I have to escort this one back to her family, in Father Erem. Only after will I be free to follow after you."

She grumbled at him, pulling back and swatting his hand away from her head. The man nodded his head slowly at that, considering the sentence." So, you'll be fine with meeting her, but only after bringing this one back to Erem?"" Correct." The man shrugged." I'd say that's fine, but I'd ask to accompany you along the way. If the mistress found out I left you unwatched, she'd probably whip me." Mallorn once again couldn't fault the logic, and so merely sighed and nodded."

That should be fine, although I warn we have little in the way of supplies or coin to sustain you along the way." The man waved it off, trotting up to them, closer, and dismounting from the grey stallion. The horse looked relatively healthy, albeit somewhat plain." I've coin and rations enough, for just a trip to Erem. Down to Hoofcross and over the bridge, right?"" That's right."" Rayne the Bastard." The man introduced himself, offering a gloved hand for a shake.

Mallorn reached over and took it, giving a firm shake in turn. A strong grip and three quick pumps, before they released and pulled back at the same time.

"Mallorn." The man raised his brows.

"... of Greenwood?" He asked with a raised brow. He knew both Elvish naming schemes and the name of the specific region. That was not improbable with the backstory the man had claimed, with an elf from Greenwood previously causing issues in the region and his mistress being familiar with them. Fortunately, he was wrong." Nay," Mallorn replied with a smile hidden behind his mask.

There was a delightful little feeling in his chest every time he was reminded of his newly-captured freedom from those woods and the elves therein. The man nodded contemplatively at that, before looking down at the dwarf woman glaring suspiciously at him. He gave a grin then feigned a woman's curtsey.

"A ~~~~~~ to meet the little lady." He introduced himself in an exceptionally sarcastic manner, with a drawl and a grin, this time in Mannish. Mallorn could tell that the word was 'pleasure' from the context of the sentence, and his brain felt all that more wrinkly and robust.

"A pleasure to meet a ~~~~~~~~", she replied with hands on her hips and a flat expression. She had clearly understood bits and pieces of the conversation, and could read tone and postures well enough to get the general gist of what was going on. At least, Mallorn assumed so, she could be bluffing. Rayne the Bastard, as he was apparently named, threw back his head and laughed. He turned a grin towards Mallorn, and pointed a thumb down the road." Towards Hoofcross then?

I suppose I'll walk along, Ass here could probably use the rest from hauling my ass about the past few days."" Towards Hoofcross." Mallorn nodded in turn, reaching down to give a reassuring pat on Dura's shoulder and unstringing his bow, putting away the string and hooking the body back to his belt. He made sure to keep his sword arm low and himself between the new man and Dura.

Extending an olive branch didn't mean showing your back, after all, and anyone named Rayne the Bastard was either unlucky or had earned it. That, and Dura was just so cute whenever he poked the side of her neck and pretended to have done nothing. The glares were almost enough to make him giggle.