Hello Everybody!

It has certainly been a minute since my last story dropped. To say there has been little time to write would be a gross understatement. In fact, I needed to split this one-off in half to release it (Game of Thrones, style). Hopefully you can all still enjoy it.

As promised, my latest story goes out to all the small Doms on this sub, who I have found can sometimes go under appreciated.

Anyhoo, sorry again for my slow pace, and I hope y’all enjoy!

“Books, Magic, and Love” (Pt. 1: The Trade)

Like many tales of old, we begin at the center of a small village.

Picture a large circle of dirt and muck; it should be large enough for a whole village armed with torches and pitchforks to angrily gather in and comfortably fit. Now, empty it out. At the head of the circle should be a church, obviously. Around the perimeter are several lowly homes, interrupted by the occasional tavern, forge, and stable. Throw in a few roads leading out of the circle, and our scene is set!

Now, it is night time. Shadows play around the circle’s interior, and the moon hangs high above. The autumn air is chilly, and the sounds of crickets have begun to quiet down this time of year. The usual muddy ground has hardened into dirt for now, and it awaits the morning dew.

A light breeze blew by, rustling Fiora’s cloak. While most of the fabric was strained tight against her bulky armor, its loose tail still flapped freely, exposing her stubby legs. Fiora took a deep breath, letting the fresh air cleanse her body and ease her nerves. The light of the moon threw several shines and glints off her armor, to her annoyance. The Dwarven woman had been trying to avoid any sort of brightness in her attire tonight.

To her right, Ansel seemed to have the opposite issue. While Fiora stood stock-still yet shined, Ansel’s horrible trembling drew attention to his perfectly-camouflaged cloak. As a lesser-knight, his armor was limited to a scratched up helmet and a light breastplate, all of which fit quite easily under his outerwear. Fiora looked up to him, and saw in the moonlight the barest sliver of Ansel’s face under his hood. His eyes could hardly focus on any one thing, preferring to dash about the empty village’s center.

Fiora hushedly broke the silence between them, “I’d offer to take yer hand, but we need to look serious.”

Ansel gulped and vigorously nodded. “Understood,” he quickly replied.

After a few more minutes of standing in the night’s wind, Fiora’s contact emerged on the other side of the circle. His small form and jet-black cloak were nearly imperceptible at this hour, and he was only visible of his own intent. Fiora cleared her throat and began to walk forward, with Ansel hurriedly following behind her. The cloaked figure carefully approached them, not trying to move too slowly or too quickly. Both parties met at the center of the village, prepared to speak... and far more prepared to fight. Fiora kept one fist clenched over the handle of a small axe hanging from her belt.

The figure was about half a foot smaller than Fiora, and his humped neck strained to meet her glare. He lifted his hood off, revealing his bald head. The goblin’s green skin was pale in the moonlight, and his yellow-stained eyes shone brighter than normal. Adorning his nose and flopped-over ears were several pieces of tiny jewelry hanging loose, too small for the holes he had poked into his flesh. Baring his silver teeth in a joyless grin, the goblin began the trade in a strained voice.

“Alrighty then, Bronze Wench. I have the information you and your squire seek,” Just one of his flaxen eyes looked at Ansel, who was doing his best not to shake. “Do you have my price?”

“Still a character of class, Scav,” Fiora withdrew a small sack tied to her belt. “Five gold. Five bronze. Dwarven mined and pressed,” She held out a gauntlet, and the grubby goblin quickly swiped the sack away.

With one eye, Scav counted up his payment. With the other, he analyzed the knight. “Squirin’ for a lady dwarf, are ye? You must be real proud of yourself. I’ll bet all the maidens give you their used kerchiefs for that one.”

Ansel resisted the the urge to furrow his brow, looking away from the goblin’s piercing eye.

Scav chuckled, “Tell ‘im to lighten up, dear,” His eyes centered on Fiora. “I know you Mine-Midgets ‘ave no humour, but green boys like ‘im need it to survive. Keeps their heads on proper.”

The goblin tied up his bag of coins and cruelly bared his fangs at Ansel, “How else you gonna find yourself a real woman, boy?” He cackled.

Ansel let out a small giggle, and Scav stepped closer. “Laughin’ now are ya? Maybe you oughta be polishin’ my sword.”

Ansel smirked beneath his hood. “My brother married a goblin,” he recalled wistfully. “She was far kinder than you, lout.”

The goblin growled and let his hands fall to his sides, hovering just above his daggers. Fiora could see an outline form through Ansel’s robe; he seemed to be gripping the end of his mace.

“Do you know where it is?” She broke through the mounting tension.

Scav turned to her. “Aye,” He began. “All you and your fair maiden here need to do is light a copper candle at the end of the Gnarled Trail. That’ll show you the path to the Forbidden Library.”

The goblin placed both hands on the grips of his daggers and slowly began to walk away. “Now, then. I’ll leave you warts to it.”

As he neared the darkness, Scav eyed Fiora. “Good luck travelling with the dead weight! I say sell ‘im to the brothel for the coins you just lost!” With a final chuckle, The Goblin turned on his heel and made for the darkness.

Whhhiiiisssshhhhhh!

Scav’s ears picked up an approaching sound, and he turned just in time to see his doom.

With a satisfying “Thud!” Fiora’s small axe embedded itself into Scav’s brain. His forehead was nearly split down the middle, exploding into a geyser of scarlet blood. Wordlessly, the goblin toppled to the earth, spilling forth his life’s essence across the dirt.

Ansel jumped at the sight. He quickly turned to Fiora and cried out, “Why did you do that?!”

“Because,” she gave him a firm pat on his waist. “He insulted the honor of my knight.”

Ansel was torn between frustration and adoration. Fiora had the temper of a bull, and even worse, the gall to act on it. However, Ansel trusted her intuition. If she had so easily sunk an axe into the goblin’s brain, perhaps he simply had it coming?

In a sick way, it was also rather nice to have his honor defended, though death was not his preferred method.

Fweee!!!!

Before Ansel could respond, an arrow whizzed by his face, his own death missing by mere inches.

The projectile sunk into a house across the circle with a “SHUNK!”. Ansel quickly ducked his head down and gripped Fiora’s arm, dashing towards a nearby hay cart for cover. Behind them, more arrows shot over the dirt, intent on skewering the duo. Diving behind the cart to the sounds of arrows hitting wood, Ansel turned to Fiora for help.

“Drat!” she cried. “That Green Nose must’ve hired protection!” Fiora began trying to peer out of cover to locate the mercenaries. Her small efforts were met with more arrows, all of which slammed into the cart with a deadly “THUNK!”

Ansel let out a deep grunt of frustration. “Did you really need to kill that little fiend?”

Fiora swung her face around and gave him a hard glare. He was almost afraid of the anger and passion he saw in her emerald eyes. “I’m sorry I love you!”

Fiora quickly removed the greataxe strapped across her back. In the hands of most men the handle of Elder Oak and blade of Dwarvish Steel would feel cumbersome and uneven. In Fiora’s toned arms, however, it was a dangerous extension of herself and her fury. Any man who dared to think of his height as an advantage against her would soon find himself missing a leg or two.

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

Arrows sliced into the cart and ground by their feet. Fiora hurriedly whispered her plan to Ansel, “Open that third eye of yours and figure out where the bastards are! Then shield me!”

The knight nodded. Though he could not necessarily open his “third eye,” Ansel certainly had a way with magic. With just a few deep breaths, he attuned himself to the Earth... and every living thing within his area became clear. The nearby families watching from their windows and doorways were glowing outlines surrounding the chaos, and he could see a few bodies were still asleep in their cots. Within a few moments, a few figures standing several hundred feet away with bows in their hands became clear.

Ansel lifted his head out of his trance and spoke up,“They’re in a stable across from us. All together.”

Fiora nodded and bowed her helmet towards him. Without a second thought, Ansel pressed two of his fingers to her iron helm and muttered a protection spell under his breath.

Within a few moments, Fiora emerged from behind the hay cart, a slightly golden glow radiating off her Dwarven Armor. An arrow that should have pierced her armor and sunken into her abs panged off her chestplate. Another meant for her head doinked uselessly away.

The mercenaries’ faith in their hiding spot evaporated as Fiora approached the stable. Despite her small legs, she quickly built up speed, dashing across the dirt at an alarming rate.

Ansel watched her burst through the stable doors and disappear into the darkness, her axe whirling around in a deadly arc. From within the stable came the sounds of wood breaking, men screaming, and limbs shattering. He quietly crossed over to the stable and withdrew his mace. Though it had a skinny handle and the iron orb at its end was small, Ansel could use it to quickly finish off any many who dared to emerge alive.

A few moments later, the sounds of snapping wood, bodies crashing together, and death rattles subsided. Fiora’s glowing armor appeared in the moonlight, stained with blood.

…

Hours later, the pair were in the Horn Forest, far from the village and huddled close next to a flickering fire. Ansel, ever the healer, was wrapping up Fiora’s cut arm after cleaning it.

“If you need help, just tell me,” Ansel began. “I hate seeing you cut up like this.”

“A good dwarf doesn’t tell her enemies when she’s been nicked,” Fiora scowled. “I’d have given 'em a second wind with that kinda news.”

Ansel gave a sigh.

“Maybe.”

He tightened the bandages around her arm, and she grimaced. With a tiny smile he continued, “But I’d also be there to help you.”

“And if ye got hurt?” Fiora immediately cut in “You know I couldn-”

“I’d have you. We’d have each other.”

A moment of silence rang out between them as Ansel finished his work. The chirping of crickets filled the air.

“More importantly,” Ansel’s hands slid down from Fiora’s bicep to her calloused hands. “I didn’t choose to follow a good dwarf. I chose to follow you, Fiora.”

“I’d like those to mean the same thing,” she responded, trying to hide her blush.

Ansel squeezed his hands into hers, “You’ll have an easier time of that if you’re still alive.”

…

After a night spent wrapped in each others’ arms, the pair rose early in the morning to begin their journey. The Gnarled Trail was known for its hostility to travelers, and the more daylight they had to traverse its impossible terrain, the better. The trail itself was a dirt road running through the most rugged part of Horn Forest. Hills with only inclines and unruly foliage were the least of any traveler’s troubles. A horrible rogues gallery of beasts and bandits awaited those who were unprepared to plunge into the deep green depths.

Trundling along on foot, Fiora brought up the front of their two-man march, with Ansel trailing just a few feet behind her. His pace, though usually faster than hers, was slowed by a cumbersome sack of supplies slung over his back. Thankfully for the pair, the crisp and cloudy weather kept the sun from cooking them inside their armor and robes.

Fiora’s greataxe was lifted just above her head, clenched in her fists like a banner signalling danger. Hopefully, it would ward off anyone or anything hoping to stalk and harm the duo.

Fiora turned her head just a bit to glance at Ansel,“D’you think we’ll need to deal with any kind of nasties or abominables when we find it?” she asked.

“I’d say we can only hope for nasties and abominables,” Ansel huffed. “A library so ancient must have knowledge worth a dozen castles. And treasures like that can only mean that we are waiting to encounter guardians only rumored to be real.”

Ansel closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember his father’s bestiary. What sort of fearsome horrors had he learned about? What were the vulnerabilities of werewolves, ghouls, and dragons? He was in the middle of recalling the many weaknesses of vampires when he walked into Fiora at full speed.

Fiora hardly moved as Ansel plowed into her, nearly knocking him backwards. Ansel’s eyes widened with fear. Could there be something wrong up ahead?

Fiora turned back to him slowly, her brows furrowed with concentration and her axe lowered. Immediately, Ansel knew she was dealing with some inner frustration. He began to kneel slowly, not wanting her to have to look up to him.

“The mightiest of dwarves wouldn’t hesitate to fight beasts of the Elder Legends,” she let out a deep sigh. “But, perhaps you are right…”

Fiora reached out an iron gauntlet and placed it firmly on Ansel’s arm, feeling how present he was, how valuable his mere existence with her was. For some reason, she couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Maybe we’d do best to reconsider,” she muttered to the ground.

For the first time in a long time, Ansel could hear the faintest hint of fear in her voice. Tenderly, he wrapped his arms around Fiora. Her armor was cold, and jutted against his skin with its unyielding edges, but he refused to let go. After a moment of silence, he pressed a finger under her chin and lifted her face up.

“I’ll follow wherever you go,” Fiora felt Ansel squeeze her hand through the chain mail of her gauntlet. “And I am bound to keep you healed, no matter your choice.”

“Hmmph,” Fiora gave him a small kiss on the chin.

“Ah know.”

Where do our heroes go from here? Will they continue on their perilous path? What lies ahead in that ancient library? So many questions, and so little time to write!

Hopefully, we shall find our answers soon.