“I am afraid I have some terrible news about your friend,”
he said.
“To tell the truth, I just met him, but what is this news
you speak of?” I replied.
“I have done as much as I can for the… man…” he seemed
hesitant at this point, “but I am afraid there is little to be done, he is at
his end.” At this the healer
sighed.
I could feel that something more was behind his words. “What else are you not telling
me?” I inquired.
“Well… whilst I was trying my best at restoring him, I came
across some things that are very interesting.”
“Well out with it man…?” I implored.
“For one, your man here is not actually a man. He seems to be wearing stilts under his
pants to make him taller.” He came
closer to my ear and whispered, “I believe he is a dwarf, sir.”
“And…?” I
asked, wondering why any dwarf would need to disguise himself as a man.
“It seems he has a tattoo on his left arm.” The healer said blankly.
“So?” I
replied.
“Well it is a very ancient tattoo, only one that dwarves
high up in the really old culture would have, but no dwarf I’ve seen the my
life has ever had one like this.”
“So, tell me, what all is to be done with him?”
“The only thing I can suggest is to make him comfortable…”
With this the healer went back into the room. I followed, and paid him for his services. Then I picked up the dwarf and walked
him back to my hotel room. Laid
him upon the bed and waited.
It was at this point I reflected on my own death. This is certainly how I would want it
to be, in the company of a fellow warrior, as my last life’s breath were
leaving me. While I was pondering this idea, the dwarf stirred. I was to my feet almost immediately.
“Graahhck,” he said slightly muffled in the pillow.
“How may I help you, sir?” I questioned.
“Ah… an Alyrian,” he stated, “I need to tell my story before
my life is gone.”
“Please do,” I pushed, “I would be glad to pass your story
on to generations that come after both you and I.”
His voice was very gruff, and his grasp of the Alyrian
language was a little muddled, but I will try to recount as much of his story
as I can here:
The Dwarf warrior’s name was Guru; he was the son of
Gerenuk, who happened to be King Degnar’s high general. He told of when he was
mere child, how the dwarfish empire sprawled all over the place. He used to
spend time at his fathers side while they made tactical plans of where they
should conquer next. He recounted playing out in the high grass with his young
friends; they had no fear of anyone. The dwarf empire under King Degnar was the
strongest anyone had ever seen. No one dared to mess with any dwarf at that
time. Everything felt like it was in harmony. Then one day it would all be
changed forever.
-V-
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