Even the longest journies begin with but a single step...

By Tarn Stormhold

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

Chapter 4

Soon after I'd passed me first test an' become a full fledged member o' me clan, I went to work fer Bremmen as 'is assistant. E'en though I'd passed the test t' become a smith, I'd yet t' prove I could 'andle every job tha' was out there. So, I was started out small. I finished me tools within two weeks, an' after tha', was given the job o' creatin' three barrels o' nails fer a construction project in Stillwater. Was durin' the very beginnin's o' the so-called technological revolution tha' was later t' sweep cross the outside world, though we'd been creatin' many similar devices fer years undermountain. We could nay create things like nails an' bolts an' such any better than the humans; we could just do it faster. An' in a boom town like Stillwater a' the time, nails were good as gold fer Dwarven traders.

Tha' job took me another few weeks, an' led t' larger an' larger tasks. From nails I moved t' kitchen supplies: pots, pans, an' the like. Then I was allowed t' make the tools t' go with them: forks, spoons, an' knives. After tha' came more specialized tools an' macinery parts, made t' order wit' specific measurements an' needs in mind. An' tha' combination o' skill wit' knives an' tools moved me into the items I can see yer itchin' t' see if'n I created: weapons an' armor. Aye, I've forged the odd blade 'n such in me day.

'Tis a finer an' more intricate job, creatin' weapons. If'n a nail bends, or a fork tine breaks, the worst ye've got is a customer with a complaint the next time they stop by. A man who 'as is sword break in combat, 'owever, is rarely back t' complain the next day. More often than not, 'e's dead. I was forgin' blades fer men I'd grown up with an' around. They'd 'ear tell of an ogre causin' trouble with a settlement up in the mountains, most often, an' 'ave t' form a party t' hunt the beast down. Me blades, in tha' case, might make the difference a'tween me friend comin' home wit' 'is shield, or on it. Puts a new thought into yer 'ead when ye think o' it that way, don' it.

But I was a good smith. I nay created such works o' art as me Master did, but I was more than seviceable t' me Clan. I recieved the more'n the odd compliment on 'ow me swords kept their edge better than most, an' 'ow me armor turned a blow they were sure was the end o' them that time. Those tha' didn't come back, I was assured couldn'a be saved short of an intervention o' the Gods, so I needn't worry o'er them. I still did, as any decent smith does, but not as often or as much as one who was less sure o' their abilities as I was.

An' so I spent near on t' a hundred an' twenty years workin' along side Bremmen. 'Tis a long time fer any human t' think about, but nay so long in Dwarven years. By the end o' tha' time, I'd reached me hundred-fiftieth birthday, or round abouts that. Fer a people used t' livin' 'neath the sunnless sky o' the caves, time meant less t' us than yer average above-grounder. A Dwarf was old enough t' start trainin' in a trade when 'e was big enough an' smart enough t' 'andle it. 'E was too old t' do it anymore when 'is body an' mind could nay 'andle it no more. 'Tis not a complicated system at all, near perfect in its simplicity. Bremmen figured 'e was around three hundred 'n' twenty years o' age when I joined 'im. 'E coulda been twenty years older or younger by 'is reckonin', but it didn'a matter t' 'im. 'E 'ad many a good year o' creatin' behind 'im, an' 'e felt 'e 'ad many a year left in 'is bones still. What more did 'e need t' know?

So like I said, I worked fer 'im fer about hundred an' twenty odd years or so. An' in tha' time, the two o' us 'ad earned a more'n fair reputation 'neath the mountains. Our weapons an' armor 'ad become a prized commodity in the warrior classes. Knowin' yer blade'd nay fail ye in a crucial moment, or yer armor wouldn'a chafe or come loose when ye most needed the protection earned it 'igh marks in any book. In fact, I'd bet me very Inn right now tha' some o' me work be still in use today, oh these many years later. I know the ore an' work be second t' none. An' I know the families o' many I sold work to were raised up t' care fer their belongin's, 'specially the ones ye expected t' save yer skin. Aye, there be an axe or sword o' mine still keepin' someone safe out there. I can draw no more pride from me profession' than tha'.

But when ye be young like I was, the quality o' yer work often be less than adequate t' keep ye satisfied. I was one o' those dwarves. The term for it in the Clans be, "rattle-minded,". Like a well oiled machine, the parts of a dwarf, body, mind, an' spirit need be perfectly tight an' in synch t' be focused fer hundreds o' years on a single task, like smithy, or minin', or what 'ave ye. If'n yer able t' be distracted on a regular basis, somethin' must not be done right inside ye, an' yer elders'll be more'n 'appy t' remind ye of tha'.

Me own sin was day-dreamin'. Not all the time, mind ye. When I was at work, I was all there. A smith who wants t' swing a twenty pound 'ammer with all 'is force onto a point not three inches from 'is fingers canna 'ave, "easily distracted," in 'is character. 'An as a good smith, me concentration on the job was impeccable. 'Twas when I was away from the job when those distractions, in th' form o' a rampant imagination, took 'old.

Imagination be a valuable commodity in the caves, but imagination was t' be tempered with practicality. Our surroundin's were rock an' stone. There only be so much you can do architecture versus style wise before a tunneled room becomes unstable, so our surroundin's were most often simple and soild. Arts, like paintin' or sculpture, were practised, but more often than not were of simply more caves, or of the creations one was dreamin' up perform one function or another. 'Twas nay problem fer any o' us t' want t' dream; we were just expected t' make somethin' o' those dreams more than stories an' impossible ideas. Mine was less than, "practical," The drivin' ambition o' me childhood was as strong as ever. I was fascinated by tales o' the outside world. Be it fables o' great 'eroes, or stories o' the great events tha' shaped the whole world, I could listen fer hours t' whatever traveler through the caves that'd stop an' tell me one. I collected them like rich man colledted gold; they were me most valuable possesion after a time, to the great dissapointment o' me father, Magnus. Like any Dwarf, 'e put more stock in wha' 'e could lay 'is 'ands on. Stories an' ideas, 'e used to say, were naught but fairy dust, an' fairy dust'll nay feed yer belly or shape yer body. 'Twas fine enough t' entertain me as a youngin', but now that I was a man, I'd best keep me nose t' the grindstone an' me 'ead out o' the clouds. I believed differently, an' we 'ad the odd, shall we say, "discussion," about tha', but 'e mostly kept 'is nose out o' it. 'E was still more'n proud o' me work at the smithy, so 'e was willin' t' forgive me other vices, as far as they went.

Now, there are few places t' run into outsiders t' tell me tales in the 'ome o' the Wheel Clan, but some do exist. As a Guard o' the Great 'All, me father was most often standin' guard o'er the meetin' rooms therein'. An' in a place like tha', with visitors from the outside lands comin' through on one errand or another, I found many an excuse on me time off t' make me way down there an' try'n meet these fabulous travelers on their way through.

And then, one day, a human came through. 'Twas no more unusual t' see a human as a gnome or halfling in our caves, truth be told. But 'twas 'is manner tha' made 'im so stand out fer me from the first. Most 'ad some sense o' awe, as centuries o' craftsmen without equal in the outside world 'ad left their mark in the grandeur o' the Wheel Clan's 'ome. But calm as a a grotto lake, as if 't'were the most natural thing t' see a human within' our walls, which it weren't, this tall man strode into the Great 'All.

After all me years o' watchin' travellers come an' go, I fancied meself a good judge o' what a man did by 'is appearance. This man stymied me. 'E was nay a diplomat, for 'is clothin' was a bit too shabby fer tha' kind o' work. 'E was nay a trader, fer 'e carried none o' tha' self-important air about 'im. An' 'e was nay a just a simple traveler, for 'e carried 'is belongin's in naught but a simple leather pack upon 'is back, an' travellin' in this part o' the world required more than tha', I thought. An' yet.....an' yet 'e 'ad a way about 'im tha' I couldn'a tear meself away from. T' this day I canna fully explain it. Aye, with no words spoken, or deeds done, with nay but me settin' eyes upon 'im, I was 'ooked fast on this stranger. I needed t' know more.

'E came into our Great 'All with no undue pomp or ceremony, but the Council still met with 'im immediately, an' stayed behind closed door fer near on t' three days in conference with 'im. This added mysterious note t' 'im made me all the more curious. I prowled the corridors an' rooms nearby, lookin' fer clues. I pestered governement officials an' clerks with equal measure, seekin' t' shake loose a rumor or two as t' what was transpirin' on t'other side o' those steel doors. I e'en pestered me poor father fer any information 'e might 'ave 'imself, though I knew any 'e might 'ave would be locked up tighter than family bonds behind 'is Oath t' the Clan. 'Twas all for naught, then. Tha' mysterious stranger might as well 'ave been made o' the stone o' the caves, as fer three days naught was t' be known. An' nothin' I could do would quench me thrist t' learn o' 'is purpose, 'is travels, or e'en just 'is name. To me, 'e was only, "the Stranger," an' I feared I'd nay learn more o' 'im more'n anythin' a' tha' time.

I was nay meself fer those days. Me work suffered first. Bremmen nay said much at first, but when I nearly cut a finger off stroppin' a blade, 'e finally spoke up.

"Blast it, Lad!" 'e cursed, grabbin' the blade from me a'fore I ran it through me 'and. "Are ye e'en close t' bein' near 'ere? Ye've been off fer days now. Are ye sick? Are ye in need o' assistance in some way? Speak up if'n I hit on it by accident, fer ye sure 'aven't been in a mood t' share it with me so far!"

I was ashamed. In me distraction, I'd nay noticed the way I'd slipped. "I'm sorry, Bremmen," I said, tryin' t' shake me 'ead o' the daze "I've...I've been a might distracted, I know. I'll nay let it 'appen again, I swear."

'E looked at me strangely fer a minute then. Every so often thoughout the years, I caught 'im lookin' at me the way 'e did tha' first time I met 'im. 'Twas like 'e could see right through me, an' into somethin' inside me e'en I wasn't sure about yet. "Aye," 'e said finally, "ye say ye've got it under control now. Might'n be ye e'en believe it yerself. I don't. Ye've got a spur in yer side 'bout somethin' or other. What be yer troubles, eh?"

"I might know that," said a voice from the entry way. At first I thought it might 'ave merely been a voice from inside me, fer it was of such a familiar tone as I'd think I'd 'ave 'eard it all me life. Took me a moment t' notice the figure now at me shoulder. I looked up, an' near fell clean out o' me chair.

'Twas the Stranger, close as you are t' me right this very moment. Up close, 'e was both less an' more than what I expected t' see. A younger man by human standards, maybe only thirty or thirty five. Dark of 'air, but light of skin. Plain but sturdy leather an' cotton 'iking clothes, with tall leather boots, worn soft by many a trodden' mile. Not much different, really, than any other man ye might see wanderin' down valley. An' yet tha' same sense, tha' sheer magnetism, drew me to this man like nothin' I'd ever felt before. I was more fascinated by 'is simplicity an' ordinariness than any wild story or fascinatin' thought I'd ever come across before. So fascinated, in fact, tha' it took me a few moments t' realize Bremmen an' the stranger 'ad continued talking without me.

"....ready, if'n ye think it's come time, then," Bremmen said, strangely sad like. "Me finest piece o' work, I'll wager. But I nay expected the necessity o' it so soon, though. Are ye sure it must be-"

The stranger shook 'is head slowly. "There's no other way, old friend. But don't worry. I promised you a safe return when the work is finished. And a safe return you will have, on my honor."

I was flabergasted, I was. Old friend? Work? Bremmen 'ad mentioned nothin' t' me o' a special project 'e'd been workin' on, an' I thought we'd shared all our secrets a'fore this. Needless t' say, I was crushed.

"An' there's no way o' doin' this without takin' 'im, then?"

Took me a fair moment t' realize Bremmen was lookin' a' me now. Took me another moment after THA' t' realize the, "'im," 'e spoke of was me.

"T...takin' me? Takin' me where, Bremmen? T' do wha'? When? An'...an' who 'is-" I stammered, until a look from the stranger silenced me.

"Patience, Tarn," 'e spoke, an' I quieted right down as if me own Father'd said those words. "My name, as you have every right to wonder, is Samael. And as I said, I have need of your services. I have little to offer you in way of payment, or even comforts of our journey. But I can assure you that the work I ask you to do now is both important, and well worth your while if you will trust me.

There is a time and a place for everything. Your time is now. Your place is with me. And so I ask, will you come with me today, to perform the work set out for us?"

With tha', 'e turned to face me fully, a questioning look on 'is face, an' I felt 'is very presence bear down on me. Not oppresive like, mind ye. I never felt pressured t' join up with 'im by anythin' 'e said or did. The pressure an' the need t' go with 'im was strangely within me. Me body, mind, an' spirit 'ad never felt quite in synch a'fore tha' moment. This man seemed t' add a cog t' me works, though. Like a machine nay used before, but oiled fer response when finally called upon, things clicked into place an' I felt as though I was finally movin' after years o' standin' still. Not everyone sees a guidepost t' their path though life so completely, or quickly. But after tha' stranger spoke t' me, all the mountains in the world could nay 'old me back now. I was sure o' tha'.

"Aye. I'll go. If'n there's work t' be done, an' me 'ands be a necessary part, I'll leave wit' ye. Just one question, though. You said we must leave....today? Tha's hardly enough time t' go back an' say goodbye to me family, or t' finish me work 'ere-"

'E cut me off again, then. "Your family has already been advised of your leaving, Tarn. I spoke with your father today. He...he is not happy about it, I'll not lie to you. He felt your place was here to take on your family's honor as Guard of the Great Hall one day. It took the efforts of both myself and the council to make him understand. But if all goes according to plan, I can guarantee your safe return in time to take his place, if that is what you wish. Our schedule is short, but not so short that I must tear you away from your home forever. Merely as long as this work shall take."

"I'm sorry t' see ye go now, Lad," Bremmen said, more gruffly than I ever remember 'im before, an' 'e 'ad trouble meetin' me eye. "If'n I could take yer place now, I would. But my friend Samael 'ere assures me yer the only one fer this task. I...I made this fer ye. Never know when it might come in 'andy." An' with tha' 'e 'anded me a thick leather pack. Near tore me arm out o' it's socket as I grasped it, it's weight was so great. I set it down quickly an' peered inside. 'Twas a actually leather wrapped round a wooden case, an' the case contained all the tools I'd crafted fer meself those many years ago, wit' tha' fine 'ammer I'd fasioned strapped t' the side fer easy access in a hurry. A sense of dread gripped me insides at tha' point. 'Twas t' be no short journey as I'd surmised if'n I was t' take me whole tool set wit' me. A Dwarf who took 'is tools o' the trade wit' 'im, far as I knew an' 'ad experienced, was nay comin' back.

Samael saw the look o' consternation on me face then, an quickly stepped in. "Fear not, good Tarn. I promised you a chance to return, and I'll do all I can to honor that. But the tools are a necessary part of the task. We mean no more than that."

I was reassured some by tha', but not by much. I knew in the pit o' me stomach tha' followin' the stranger was the right path fer me. But still, I couldn'a shake the feelin' tha' I might regret tha' decision later.

"Are you ready, Tarn? We have many miles to cover. Best we leave now." Samael said simply an' turned t' leave. I quickly shouldered me pack, amazed by the skill Bremmen 'ad put into it. Such a great weight was balanced on shoulders so well, an the straps were so supple an soft, I felt I could walk fer days wit' it on. So wit' tha' I started t' make me way t' the door.

Bremmen laid a 'eavy 'and on me shoulder, an' I turned t' face 'im one last time. I looked into 'is face, an' realized why 'e wouldn'a fully look me in the eye a'fore. The normally stone like countenance o' me Master was crumbled a bit, an' I could see tears standin' in 'is eyes. "I've 'ad assistants come an go, La...Tarn. But ye've been me pride an' joy e'er since ye first crafted yer way into the Clan. Yer....," 'e paused fer a second, t' gather 'imself. Dwarves, as ye know, aren't the most emotional o' races. But when truly saddened, we'll cry like the rest. 'E was cryin' then. It touched me more t' know tha'. ".....Yer like the son I never 'ad. Make me proud, Tarn. Make me proud!" An' 'e grasped me sudden like then, an' I embraced me old friend. Fer a few moments we stood like tha', an' then 'e whispered somethin' in me ear. "What I said before, about somthin' bein' me best piece o' work......I meant you, Tarn. I meant you. "

I was about t' question wha' 'e meant, when a small cough from Samael broke the moment. "Ye......ye'd best be on yer way, then. Like 'e said...many miles t' go." Bremmen said, an' 'e turned back t' 'is forge an' 'is new assistant.

"Aye," I said, a bit more gruffly myself now, "Aye, we're off then, I suppose. Say good-bye to me father, then, Bremmen. Tell 'im I'll be back soon, when all this is over."

Bremmen spoke without turning around, "I'll do that....son. I'll do that."

An' with tha' I turned an' followed Samael out of the smithy, out of the 'ome o' me Clan, an' out into the world. 'Twas t' be a long journey, an' I'd but taken the first step.

*********************************************

"An' tha', me boyo, be the end o' the story fer now." I said after a moment's pause. Young Ben's eyes, a bit dreamy fer the last while as 'e pictured me tale unfoldin', suddenly snapped into focus an' wheeled on me.

"That's....that's it? That's the end of the story? But what happened after that? And who was Samael? Where did you go? What was the, "work,"? What-"

"I never said it was the end o' the story entirely, Ben," I said gently, "But I promised yer father I'd 'ave ye off t' bed at a decent hour. An' e'en now, it's far past tha'," I pointed to the clock on the wall, which was now passin' midnight.

"But.....but...," 'e stammered, fighten' both 'is sleepy eyes an' 'is less than polite urges t' demand 'earin' the rest o' the tale.

"But nothin'," I said at last, "There be more t' this story, in truth, than I'd ever 'ave time t' tell in one sittin'. The rest'll 'ave t' wait fer another day," The lad looked ready to cry a' tha' point, so I did me best t' reassure 'im. "Ye know ye come through here more often than any o' me other regulars. Yere father'll have reason t' stop by again real soon, I promise,"

Like the good little man 'e was, I could see 'im process tha' bit o' information, an' come t' the right decision. "You're right, Mr. Stormhold. I.....I suppose it is getting late, and you did promise my father that I'd get to bed tonight. I guess I can wait for now." 'Is eyes lit up again a' tha' point though, an' 'is intent little stare bored into me, "But you promise, too. You promise you'll keep telling the story next time, will you? Please?"

I pretended t' ponder tha' for a moment, e'en though I couldn'a refused 'is enthusiasm fer a second, "If'n ye need me word, ye can 'ave it. Next time yer through, I'll keep on wit' me tale." I picked up me pipe then, an' started tampin' a new bowl. "Now, off t' bed wit' ye, ye 'ear?"

"Yes, Mr. Stormhold," 'e said, an' got up promptly an' started for the stairs. 'Alfway up, 'e turned t' me again, "Aren't you coming to bed, too?"

"In a little bit, Lad. In a little bit." I said, an' with that 'e turned back, climbed the stairs, and entered 'is room. Fer a moment, I stared into space. Then, with a soft sigh, I rose from me chair, the creakin' o' me bones a soft counterpoint t' the creakin' o' me old chair, an' shuffled over t' the dusty cabinet in the corner. I fished around in me pocket fer a moment, finally drawing out a key which I used t' unlock an open the bottom drawer. Inside was a velvet wrapped bundle, which I withdrew, an' pullin' the fabric off there an' leavin' it behind, I made me way beck t' me chair with the contents. The fire was dyin' a bit again, so I tossed another log on, prodded the stack a bit t' me satisfaction, an' stared at the item in me lap against its flickerin' light.

Perhaps it was tarnished a bit more now. The pits an' scars o' age an' use certainly seemed t' stand out more in tha' ruddy glow. But tha' old 'ammer still felt like the extension o' me arm I'd imagined it was so long ago. An though it's etchin' an' designs were faded now, its solidity was nay diminished a bit by time. 'Twas still the repository o' so many memories I'd nay thought about fer many a year.

An' so I settled back by tha' fire, 'ammer in lap, fer a few more hours, an' remembered.

An' remembered.....