Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman

Berget had hidden when the attack occurred. She came back, started a fire and tended Engvyr's wound. Somehow she kept them alive for several days until a tinker and his family came along. They'd cut out the ball, treated his fever and buried the dead. Then they took Engvyr and Berget in their wagon to the nearest settlement and called in the rangers. Unfortunately a heavy rain had fallen by then and erased all sign of the thieves.

By the time Engvyr was recovered enough to be up and around their Clan had sent some of their folk to collect them. He gave Berget over to their care but did not return to the clanhame with them, opting instead to make his own way.

The thieves had taken The Hammer but he still had the Big 14. That first winter he had run a trap-line, hunted and traded in furs. After that he drifted for a few years, doing odd-jobs at the settlements, placer mining, trapping and hunting. He even did a bit of hard-rock mining, but didn't care for it any more than he ever had. Always he kept an eye out for the dwarves that had murdered his family.

He wrote to Berget from time to time, reassuring himself that she was settled in and doing well. She'd prospered in the Clan's care, gradually coming to terms with the tragedy that she had experienced. He always made a point to stop in and see her when he was at the clanhame for holidays and on other visits. A few years ago he'd attended her wedding to a nice fellow that worked the mines. They'd written less since she wed, but last he'd heard they were expecting their first child.

Years later he had run into Rolph and Roel and they caught up over coffee in the inn of a small market town. Finally Rolph put down his coffee cup and looked him in the eye.

“You're not fooling me boy- you're huntin' them dwarves and I can't say as I blame you. I heard that you caught up with one a' them already. But living for revenge is no kind of life, sure an' certain it's not the life your folks would have wanted for you. At the end of it you'll find yourself cold and empty and the dead will still be dead.”

“It's not just revenge, Rolph. I just can't stand the thought of those dwarves running loose in the world after what they've done, free to hurt more good folk.”

“Leave that for the Rangers, Eng. You need to make a life for yourself, a real life.”

He'd thought about that for some time. Finally he had decided that Rolph was right and signed up for a hitch in his father's old regiment. He was a good trooper but the life of a soldier didn't suit him. Seeing this, and in light of his experience as a hunter, his superiors in the regiment transferred him to a unit of skirmishers.

He'd distinguished himself with them when the fools governing the trade-city of Kaeralenn had enslaved some dwarves to labor in their mines. He'd been part of the raid to free them, covering their retreat with his long-rifle, allowing the slaves to escape. In appreciation for his accomplishments he was allowed to take his weapon with him when he mustered out of the regular army to join the Mountain Guard.

The traveling, the camaraderie, and yes, even the occasional fighting suited him and for the last twelve years he had been content enough. He liked that he was being of use to his folk, helping people as he and his family had been helped. Not surprisingly it was also deeply satisfying for him to catch wrong-doers and bring them to justice.

He snorted quietly to himself as he led the struggling ponies up the last slope to the road. He still hadn't made much of a life for himself. His 'social life' was pretty constrained, consisting of his partner and a few of the other Rangers that he saw at best once a month.

True, he'd kept company with a widow for a couple of years when he wasn't on his rounds, but eventually she'd found a dwarf of a more settled nature and took him as her husband. Last he'd heard they had settled onto a farm to start a family. He honestly wished them well, but he still missed her from time to time.

When he got back to the others they took the packs off of the pack-pony and tucked them away in the brush where hopefully they could be recovered later. While Taarven and Deandra put together a meal Engvyr gathered up the goblin's back-packs with their grisly cargo. He took them away from the road and covered them with a make-shift cairn. It wasn't much but it was the best that he could do. He hoped that they could be recovered later so that they could be given a proper burial.

By the time that he was finished the children still looked pretty rough but had perked up some after a good hot meal. He'd chafed over the time they were taking but it was plain that everyone needed the food and rest before they could hope to travel. While they ate Deandra and the other woman, Saewynn Bengyrsdottir, filled them in on the events that had brought them to this moment.