Author: Robert Lee (aka Robertsinferno)
Contest Entry: Dwarven Storyline Dec 09
Finalist
Eithhrim moved his head back swiftly as the axe’s blade flew towards him in the fading evening light. Everything seemed to slow as he widened his eyes and focused on the glistening steel, it seemed to dance with the faint light that bounced off of it. It sought its target of flesh, but Eithhrim was not so accommodating. With the successful dodge boosting his confidence, he clenched his own axe’s handle and swung it with all of his might. Beads of sweat dropped from his forehead and caught on his reddish brown beard. His axe whistled through the air singing as if it were a youngling in the halls of Grimmvali. The song was instantly silenced as it was met with Salis’ axe. Salis used his axe to hook Eithhrim’s and spun to his left. Eithhrim’s axe went flying from his hands and clashed against the rocky ground.
Salis smiled. “I thought you might finally have bested me, lad. You must always hold onto your axe, it is the key to your life in battle.”
“Aye sir,” Eithhrim replied. His eyes moved from the smiling old dwarf to the sight of his axe lying motionless exactly where it should not be. He hunched his shoulders and walked over to the axe; he picked it up and brushed off the dirt with his small but rough hands. “Do not be down about losing the battle, but be careful to never lose your axe again. Jarlmundi would be glad to see that you are improving.” Salis slung his axe over his shoulder and turned to walk away. Without looking back he called out, “don’t stay out too long. The season tis getting colder and it will not be many weeks before the first snows come. It would be best not to catch a cold before then.” He walked away along the stone path leading to the entrance of Heimmaerr. Eithhrim kicked a stone sitting next to his foot. I can never seem to get anything right. I’m no good at crafting weapons, no good at crafting armor, and no good at using them either. He looked to the stone path, but his stomach turned at the idea of returning home so soon after being defeated. He looked in the opposite direction to the grain fields at the base of the hill. Not much left now that the harvest season is ending, but maybe the aroma will comfort my nerves. He strapped the axe to his back and walked down to the fields, the air was crisp and cold now that the sun was almost completely put to rest. He reached the base of the hill and walked through the fields of barley. The golden stalks left over from the harvest danced in the gentle breeze. Many were already dying but there were those that resisted the call of time. Standing strong, those last few patches of barley gave off of a familiar scent that filled Eithhrim’s nostrils.
There is nothing more comforting than this. In the corner of his eye he noticed something moving in the tall grass by a hump in the hill. He unstrapped his axe and ran towards his possible foe. It has been a long time since Elves were in this land, but maybe they have sent a spy to Heimmaerr. If I can capture or kill this spy, maybe I will finally earn some respect amongst my clansmen.
“Come out and explain yourself Elf,” Eithhrim shouted. “You have but a moment to give me a reason not to kill you!” His hands gripped the axe tightly and it felt as if sprites were playing in his stomach. But no reply came from the grass. “Come out I said!” Still nothing. He moved towards the grass, dragging his right foot behind him as he slowly moved himself along with his front foot. His battle stance was perfect and ready for any surprise attack.
A deep groaning sound came from the grass. The moving figure stood up onto its fours and revealed itself to Eithhrim. On its back left leg there was a trap piercing its flesh and chaining it to the ground. A bear caught in a trap, no glory today. “Well you’re no Elf at all. And from the looks of it, you’re not more than a few years old,” Eithhrim looked with gentle eyes upon the trapped bear. “We have plenty of food in Heimmaerr this time of year. If you promise not to tell anyone I will let you go.” He laughed to himself at the thought of making a bear promise him anything. “I promise,” the low toned bear spoke. Eithhrim jumped backwards and swung his axe in front of him once again.
“You speak! How can that be?”
“Dwarf, will you release me or not.” The bear’s eyes closed as it grimaced in pain.
“Of course, I just…I’m a little taken back by the fact that there’s a talking bear in front of me.” Eithhrim moved slowly towards the bear trap. He was not certain that this talking bear would not take a swipe at him, but he gave the bear his word that he would release it. He crouched next to its hind leg and looked at the bear. He took a key from his bag and unlocked the trap, freeing the bear. The bear moved away from the trap and turned towards him.
Here it comes, my good deed paid to me in the form of a bear’s claws. I might deserve death for this stupidity.
“You are a kind hearted Dwarf. What is your name?” The bear slowly shook its back leg finally freed from its captor.
“I am Eithhrim, and you are?”
“I am Asbjorn, and I am obviously not a normal bear.”
“That’s for certain.” Eithhrim strapped his axe to his back; certainly a bear who introduced himself posed no threat. He did not strap the axe too securely though, just in case.
“I am a child of Eyvindr just as you are. My kind was given the name Frostpaws. Except my kind are almost gone from this world. Thousands of years ago we were created by the goddess Kenna. She blessed my ancestor’s clan with knowledge and the ability to speak, long before the Dwarves were searching for treasure in the mountains here.”
“I have never heard of your kind, Asbjorn. If you have been around so long why have the Dwarves never known of the Frostpaws.” “Sometimes it is best to keep in hiding if you wish to avoid war. The Dwarves would not be so understanding of talking bears, but your kindness deserves to be rewarded. What is it that you want?”
Eithhrim laughed. “I don’t know that there is anything you can do for me. Unless you can make me a better warrior or craftsman then I am still useless to the Dwarves.” The smile faded from his face as he looked down at the cold hard ground below him. The light had gone from Eyvindr now.
“Little Dwarf, there is much sadness in you. Perhaps I can teach you something that will make all of your Dwarf brethren sing your name in the grand halls for years to come.” Asbjorn looked as if a smile had overcome his face. Eithhrim thought it weird, but after today nothing could surprise him.
“Asbjorn, if you could do that, if you could earn me a place in the halls of Grimmvali, then please oh gracious Frostpaw, I am your humble student.” Eithhrim dropped to one knee and bowed his head to the bear to show obedience. “There is no need for that little one. I will teach you of a secret drink that the Frostpaws have used to keep warm during the winter and joyous during dark times. It has been our secret since the time of Kenna.” With that, Asbjorn turned and limped towards the grain fields. Eithhrim rose to his feet and followed after the lumbering bear.
###########
It was deep winter now in the Dwarves’ land and white snow covered the mountains like a gentle blanket. Eithhrim had been learning of the Frostpaws’ drink and practiced making it in his house inside of Heimmaerr for a few months. The tunnels of the mountain that made up his clan’s city provided a cooled location for his new experimentation. The brew he made under Asbjorn’s guidance was stored inside a cask, normally used to keep water in the winter. Eithhrim was very proud of his creation, even though he still had not tasted it.
I’m supposed to meet Asbjorn today; I best dress warmly and head out to meet him.
He exited his small wood and earthen house and entered the grand open area of the underground city. Flickering torches and grand fire pits filled the city with light. He looked up the cobblestone path to Grimmvali. It sat at the highest part of the city, it overlooked everything. It was made of the most pristine granite and marble. The only wood that was used to make the building was used on the inside for decoration and to provide a sweet aroma. He thought of the grand halls in the building and how they filled every festival with proud Dwarves. The sweet voices of younglings practicing their performance for the winter festival could be heard softly echoing from inside.
A smile came over his face and warmth filled his heart. He turned and walked away down the well lit tunnels to the city’s entrance. The warmth of the city faded as he neared the cave’s opening and stepped foot into the frost covered mountainside. He traveled up the path to where he last dueled Salis, it seemed so long ago now, and down the opposite side to where he first met Asbjorn. There in the tall grass was the bear, waiting patiently.
“What a perfect time of year,” Asbjorn said to Eithhrim. His optimistic greeting made Eithhrim laugh.
“Yes, but it is very cold today.” Eithhrim tucked his hands into his fur coat and a shiver ran through his body.
“Aye, but you Dwarves are accustomed to it. And we Frostpaws love it; our thick fur and body fat keep us going strong. With our Kenna graced wisdom we are able to store food for the winter as your kind does. No longer do we have to sleep so long like our cousins.”
“And thus you have time to brew such drinks as the one you’ve been teaching me.” “Yes, well I actually have nothing more to teach you. I wanted to meet you today to tell you that your training is complete and your brew should be ready soon.” Asbjorn rose up on his hind legs and then crashed back to the ground with a large thud. “That is the traditional goodbye, my friend.” Eithhrim looked to the icy ground below him. As he moved his feet the earth crunched and broke beneath his leather shoes. “I’m sorry to see you go. It has been a very enjoyable past couple of months and regardless of how the brew turns out, you’ve given me something I really enjoy doing.” He smiled and looked into the bear’s deep brown eyes. He placed his hands on the bear’s shoulder and bowed his head to him.
“Always with the sadness, I am sure I will see you again sometime. If no time else, I will find you one spring and make sure you are doing my kind’s brew justice. Keep experimenting with the techniques and ingredients I taught you. You will be the first brewmaster of the Dwarves, and possibly the finest they will ever see.”
“Thank you Asbjorn, I have my sense of purpose now and I owe that to you. Take care, and avoid those bear traps.” Eithhrim chuckled to himself. His bouncing reddened beard rocked with his movements and made the bear laugh as well.
Asbjorn turned and ran off through the grasslands to his home, known only to the Frostpaws. Eithhrim stood alone in the cold wind, but the warmth of the midday sun comforted him even from behind the clouds. More than that, the warmth of pride in his heart fought off every bit of the cold. He traveled back to Heimmaerr collecting various roots and plants growing along the way. The next time I see Asbjorn I’ll have a recipe to share with him in return. He crossed into the cave’s opening and went back to his house to experiment with his new plants. The hours passed quickly. He felt the weight of sleep fall onto his shoulders and realized it was time for bed. That night he dreamt of different brews and his clan complementing his work. All night long, there was a smile on his face.
Salis burst through the doorway to Eithhrim’s house and shook him. “What…what?” Eithhrim woke. He realized that it must be morning but still a few hours before he would have woken naturally. “What is it Salis?”
“The leader of the Yngvarr clan is here arguing about the grain fields. Apparently he and Jarlmundi cannot agree on the terms of the fields for this year and fighting has broken out!”
“What do you think will happen if it continues?”
“I don’t know Eithhrim. But it may be time for you to sharpen your battle skills. We will need every Dwarf warrior available if this goes on for too long I’m sure.” “Salis, you are always anticipating war. Where is the argument taking place? Surely there can be a resolution.”
“Jarlmundi and the Yngvarr leader are at the grand table in Grimmvali.”
Eithhrim thought to himself. He looked around him and the cask of his brew caught his eye. They will sing my name in the halls of Grimmvali, Asbjorn said so himself. What better place and time to introduce the brew than now and in Grimmvali.
“Quickly Salis, help me with that cask.” “What? That stuff you’ve been working on? Eithhrim do you want to be murdered? This is no time to try out your concoction.” “Salis! Just do as I ask you!” A fiery passion filled Eithhrim’s eyes.
Salis was shocked, never before had Eithhrim spoke to him like this. The intensity in his face left no room for discussion. “Alright, my friend, but it is upon your own head this will fall. I want nothing to do with this besides helping you carry that cask.”
“That is all I ask.” The two grabbed the cask and hurried to the halls of Grimmvali. They moved up the marble stairs and past the stone doorway. They rushed through the halls to the grand table to find the fighting still underway.
“The Yngvarr clan has been asking for more and more of our land every year! This is preposterous and we Yngmundr will not stand for it any longer.” Jarlmundi yelled at the Yngvarr leader.
“And your clan takes more and more of the neutral land every year! The area between our lands was to be shared as agreed by in the pact set by your grandfather.” The Yngvarr leader shouted in return. He was the same height as Jarlmundi and had streaks of grey running through his black and full beard.
“The pact states that the land be shared, but it says not how much is to be given to each clan. We have a growing city and the majority of that land belongs to us!”
Salis looked at Eithhrim. “This is going to get ugly I fear.”
“Maybe not Salis. If my friend was right, the contents of this cask are something that brings about an unparalleled happiness.” He began running up to the grand table again, Salis stumbled to keep up but caught himself and managed to maintain the pace.
“Jarlmundi, sir, I bring a gift for yourself and the leader of the Yngvarr,” Eithhrim called out as he approached the grand table.
“What is the meaning of this? You would have our discussions interrupted?” The leader of the Yngvarr clan asked.
“I assure you this is not my doing. Eithhrim explain yourself before I have your head for this disgrace.” Jarlmundi frowned as he looked upon Eithhrim, his fists clenched upon the table.
“Sir, I have a gift of brew that has never been tasted in the halls of Grimmvali before. Maybe, if you would please, humor me. It would aid in your discussion.”
“I doubt this, I will not entertain such foolery,” Jarlmundi motioned for his royal guard to remove Eithhrim from his presence.
“Wait; let us see about this so called brew. I have tired of your water and juices,” the leader of the Yngvarr spoke.
Eithhrim looked to Jarlmundi, waiting for his signal. Jarlmundi stopped his guards and motioned for him to continue in his presentation. Eithhrim tapped the cask and grabbed two cups to quickly fill them up. A rich brown and frothy brew poured out, its aroma filled the halls. Never had he tasted his own brew, but he hoped to the gods that it tasted half as good to a bear as it did to the Dwarves. His life now depended upon it.
Jarlmundi and the Yngvarr leader filled their glasses and took a deep drink from the dark brew in their cups. All those in the hall stood silent waiting for their reaction.
“This is…” Jarlmundi tried to speak but was interrupted by the other clan leader.
“Amazing! Eithhrim is it? Tell me, what do you call this brew?”
“Sir, I…” Eithhrim had not ever learned what it was called. As far as he knew the brew did not have a name. Asbjorn always referred to it simply as his people’s drink. Eithhrim searched the room in thought as he quickly tried to come up with a name. “Sir, I call it…Frostpaw.”
“Frostpaw…” The clan’s leader thought to himself and took another drink of the brew. “You can call me Ulfr, forgo the formalities.”
Everyone in the hall sighed with relief at the joyous reaction by Ulfr and Jarlmundi. A large smile crept across Eithhrim’s face. “I will Ulfr and thank you.”
“What do you make this brew out of?” Ulfr moved the brew back and forth in his cup and stared at it intently.
“Well sir. Ulfr. I use the barley in the grain fields as well as a variety of roots, herbs, and plants.”
Ulfr looked to Jarlmundi and paused for a moment. “Jarlmundi, if you can have this Dwarf deliver casks of this brew to my clan, then each year you can use the area of the neutral fields that we’ve been arguing about. The extra grain will allow you to make brew for both of us and will make the distribution of the land even in my eyes.” He drank some more. The brew left a rich froth on his mustache that when wiped away revealed a large smile.
“I couldn’t agree more. Let us continue to drink and celebrate our new agreement!” Jarlmundi lifted his cup and throughout the halls people rushed to take a sample of the drink from the cask. He motioned for one of the guards to come close. “Tell the choir director to create a song to be sung about Eithhrim this year at the winter festival. His name shall be remembered for this moment and grand brew.”
Eithhrim overheard the comment and thought back to Asbjorn. He could not wait to see him again and tell the bear that he was right. Never before had so much pride filled a Dwarf as it did Eithhrim in this moment.
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I look forward to building on this and seeing it play a core role in our world development.