Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman

“We've been doing our duty, ma'am. We patrol against threats and enforce the King's Law, yes, but it's just as much our job to help folks like yourselves. We do need to report in, and more-or-less on-time. If we don't they will have to take other rangers away from their patrols to search for us.”

“No worries,” his father assured them, “Get on with you. We're well set-up here, thanks to you. I'll be up and around soon enough and we'll be on our way.”

The Rangers shook hands with them all and accepted hugs from his aunt along with a bag of freshly made biscuits.

“Next time our rounds bring us this way we'll stop in and check on you. That'll likely be a month or so” Rolph told them, “until then be well.”

He swung into the saddle and gave a small wave. Roel touched the brim of his hat in farewell and they set off.

Chapter Seven

“A Dwarf may set his foot on any path he chooses, but that path will lead where it leads regardless of his intended destination. If he is too set in his mind on his original goal he may in his disappointment entirely miss the wonder of where he winds up.”

From the diaries of Engvyr Gunnarson

“You've done well for yourselves here,” Rolph commented, looking around the hame.

Good as their word the Rangers had returned. They brought with them some small things that the family might need, odds and ends like a spool of strong thread, some iron needles, a small bag of salt and a box of 14-bore slugs. They even brought some hard candy for Berget, which she accepted gravely. She still did not speak but a spark of life was coming back into her eyes at last.

Busy as they had been the month had passed quickly. They had never stopped working on improving the hame, little things like shutters for the windows, shelves, a couple of small benches and the like. It didn't matter that they were moving on, dwarves are folk with a love of making things, and making things neat and tidy. Besides, other folk in need might come along and be able to make use of them.

Mostly they had gathered food for their trip and to extend their scant supplies. Engvyr and Egerta constructed a make-shift smokehouse to preserve the game that he shot. He took a deer and a smaller boar and they sliced up all the meat that they could and smoked it. His aunt collected herbs and dried them, both for seasoning and for simples.

His father was doing better. His back was all but healed and he was moving about the place, even going outside with the help of a stout cane. Even as he recovered he had spent much of his time carving bowls, spoons and other small, useful things.

“You'd hardly know it for the same place,” Rolph said as he looked around admiringly, “have you thought of staying, then?”

His father shook his head.

“Might be we could make do through the winter if I weren't crippled up. We can manage a few weeks on the trail but winters are long and cruel hereabouts. Best we make for our Clanhame.”

“You'll need to move out smartly, then, if you're to make it over the High Passes. The Endelg Afkol, the Death Chill will hit them early this year,” Rolph said.

“Death Chill? What is that?” Engvyr asked.

“Those High Passes never really get snowed in but they get fierce wind and cold. It gets so cold if you spit it will freeze before it hits the ground. That's when you know you're in a Death Chill, when you can't bundle up or be active enough to keep from freezing to death. That happens, well, you need to get back down the mountain in a hurry, or else somewhere warm to wait it out.”

After supper they talked on about conditions on the road ahead and the hazards that they might encounter along the way. When they grew tired the Rangers rolled their bedrolls out by the fire and the family retired to their rooms. In the morning they broke their fast with meat left over from supper and griddle-cakes cooked in bacon-fat.

“Mind you don't tarry if'n you mean to make it to your Clanhame before the passes close,” Rolph advised as the Rangers swung into their saddles to ride on, “The town of Loevpas is two or three days up the trail and you can pick up some necessaries there. I don't know as there is any place you can winter over twixt there and the High Passes. Worst come to, if you get stopped in the mountains you might be able to make it back to town.”

They watched until the pair passed out of sight and his father sighed.

“Guess that we'd best be about it then.”

They had a good store of smoked meat and dry sausages at this point, but not enough to over-burden the ox. This was good, as his father would need to ride their one pony. While he could get around after a fashion he would never be up to traveling any kind of distance on foot.