The Rewards of Recovering the History of the Dwarfs

The cart groaned as Luther hefted the dressed boar carcass onto the three deer stacked in its narrow confines.

Pious, the tough old mule, turned its head to look over one skinny shoulder and blew a great gusting sigh through its lips, as if disgusted by the size of the load it had to drag to Middenhiem.

Luther chuckled and gave the long-eared mule a handful of grain from a pouch.

"You'll make him good for nothing but the knackers, Luther." Said Throngor from the driver's bench, thick fingers laced delicately through the reins.

"Maybe. Maybe." Luther responded with a smile for the Dwarf's gruff manner. Throngor made a good show of being the same Dwarf he was when first Luther and the others met him, but he had changed nearly as much as the rest of them. Certainly he had as many if not more fresh scars to prove it, but the Dwarf seemed to carry himself more proudly. Perhaps it was the new clothes he wore, which were fine, but to Luther there was something more.

He'd first noticed it last night as Throngor had made his weekly drive down the long road to the foot of the Fauschlag. As Throngor made camp last night he'd carried himself differently. When Luther had asked Throngor about his new attitude, he'd shrugged and simply said, "I have repaid debts owed clan and hold."

Surveying his camp for items he had forgotten, Luther tamped more earth over the logs of the keeping-pit he'd dug and picked up the beastman's head he'd taken while hunting the boar. Throngor smiled as Luther dragged the goatish head by one horn to the cart, "I see you've had some fun as well."

Luther grunted as he hefted the head up onto the wagon. "Yes. Foul creature thought it was hunting the boar alone. Focused on it for too long. Last thing to go through it's mind was the shaft of one of my arrows."

Throngor grinned wider, showing the broad teeth of his race, "Indeed? I have to say I was suprised you'd not had more trouble with them. Or bears for that matter."

"I keep my camps spare and move quite a bit. Bears around here have been hunted out, and the beastmen are on the run. I did lose one deer last week to a pack of wolves. I dug the keeping-pit after that," Luther said, gesturing with one thumb over his shoulder at the covered pit.

"Seems you've done well for yourself. Ale?" Throngor asked, one hand pulling a small cask from beneath the running board.

"Aye!" Luther replied as he clambered up beside Throngor.

Their tankards filled, Throngor and Luther left the forest glade empty behind them, the creaking sound of the wooden axle lingering after them.

Three frothing tankards of Dwarfen ale later and a few miles up the road had Throngor was in a fine mood, even forgetting to scowl at the trees.

Luther, seeing an opportunity, asked, "What has changed your mood so, Throngor?"

Throngor remembered himself and scowled a moment before shrugging and answering, "I am not sure how much you know of the armor we recovered."

Luther shook his head and shrugged, the ungreased axle moaning in the silence.

He grinned through his luxuriant black beard and quaffed more ale before continuing, "It meant much to the clan that owned it. Indeed, to the clan whose craftsmen made it. Grungi's perfect beard, boy, you already knew it to be worth a great manling lord's ransom just for its quality. And we Dwarfs are not known for out lack of... sentiment for our history."

Luther thought he saw a tear in Throngor's eye before the Dwarf looked away.

Several minutes passed. Quietly, Throngor continued, "That armor was once Borlok Olladilsson's. Borlok was a great captain of the Old Empire, who settled many grudges against the greenskins and kept the roads free of offal. His actions were a credit to his clan, who commissioned a suit of armor from the best armorer of the day. Borlok and his forty dwarfs were given the rights to a small mine along the road and tasked with defending trade on the road for the Dwarf Kings of old.

Many were the threats to the Old Empire, and so much of what happened at the fort that they built over the road was lost, indeed, even its location was forgotten as the books of grudges were lost and our ancestors perished before writing all that they remembered into new books. We knew though that Borlok was slain at the fort with all his Dwarfs by an Orc warlord we called Menace. Menace was eventually run to ground and killed in turn, but Borlok's armor was not recovered until now."

Throngor smiled and touched the fine axe thrust through his belt, "My clansmen have honored me greatly. The living ancestors allowed me to place my mark in our great Book of Grudges in Grungi's Tower. They allowed me to place my mark in that book, sealing a grudge forever with my rune."

"I doubt you could understand, manling, what that means to me and my clan, but suffice to say it is a huge honor, and has opened many doors for this young Dwarf," Throngor said, pointing one thick thumb to his chest.

Throngor snorted and continued, "My mother didn't raise me to seek after fool's gold, so I struck while the iron was hot and set up the contracts with my guild members for mining the old fort. The guildsmen shall pay us 1/10 of the gross proceeds from the mine beginning next year. I am sure it will not be huge sums of money, but it will supplement anything else we make in the meantime.

The Skallamin clansmen are proud to have their ancestor's armor returned to them and an old grudge satisfied, and they will show their gratitude to all of us.

By now Diebold and Nicodemus have been visited by Dwarfs wishing to take their measurements for a new suit of Dwarf plate. Mine shall be delivered shortly. They, being manlings, will have to wait a bit longer as the armor was not on hand. Andric will have access to the records of my people. Oldric will have a craftsman come calling, someone who will provide him skilled labor without expense for some time. Rudiger will be getting something he will find most valuable."

Throngor sipped at his ale, sucking on his moustache as he shot a sidelong glance at Luther, "Which leaves you, my young friend. Perhaps a fine chain shirt, a companion mule for Pious, and a true wagon?"

Luther nodded, mouth open as he tried to hide his astonishment at the torrent of words his question had elicited from the Dwarf.

"Close your mouth, young manling, you'll invite flies to feast." Throngor said. Taken aback at his own verbose response, Throngor drained the last of his ale and tied the empty tankard to his belt, visibly schooling himself to silence for the rest of the drive to Middenhiem.