Chronicles of Ilandri - Volume 1

An Unlikely Friendship (Pt.3)

The bandits packed their camp away surprisingly quickly and everything was carried in packs worn on their backs. There were around thirty of them all together and a group that large was much slower going. Along with a slower pace, they also stopped for longer for meals and breaks. By day's end they also made their camp much further into the brush than Nathaniel and Grolt would. It took them longer to find a space for the whole camp so they had to stop earlier to set up camp before sunset. It was strangely welcoming being a part of this group and despite their auspicious introduction. Nathaniel and one of the men left the camp to hunt them all some dinner, whilst Grolt remained behind on lookout. They headed deeper into the hills hoping to find larger game. The sun had not quite dipped below the horizon, when their attention was drawn back toward the camp at the sound of screams. They instantly began running back with all the speed they could muster. When Nathaniel arrived back at the camp it was a scene of chaos. Bodies were strewn across the floor, most brutal cut open and bleeding out onto the ground. Those who still remained alive were attempting to defend themselves from three dark elves, heavily armoured and far outmatching the bandits. Nathaniel ran over, his glaive held high above his head as he charged them. All eyes turned to him and the fighting stopped momentarily. Clearly they recognised the weapon to be one of their own and concern spread across their faces. In an instant they turned and fled, disappearing almost instantly as they stepped into the shadows.

Nathaniel did not chase after them. As he stood at the centre of the camp, he looked around taking in the scene. A wave of anxiety spread through his body when he realised he could not see Grolt. Only two of the bandits had survived the assault, not including his hunting companion. Now he held the terrible thought in his mind that poor Grolt had been finished off like the rest of his pack had been. "Grolt, Grolt!" He called out, hoping the dwarf would respond. There was no answer and he could feel the emotion building up inside him. He began to scour the camp in a panic, turning over each body to check if it was his companion. As he turned over one of the dead bandits, he found Grolt underneath, lying face down in the dirt. Tears began to roll down his cheeks as he saw him there. Despite not knowing the dwarf all that long, he had become quite a close friend. Nathaniel turned him over and as he did, the dwarf groaned and peered at him through squinted eyes. Across his face was a hefty bruise and his nose was clearly broken too. It appeared as if he had taken a large whack across the face and been knocked unconscious. The bandit who had then fallen on him had then shielded him from the dark elves.

Grolt sat up and shook his head, "Nathaniel I am glad to see you friend. Where are these villains?" He asked, with rage growing in his throat.
"They fled when I arrived, running into the shadows," Nathaniel answered. Grolt jumped to his feet and let out a mighty roar of anger. "They must die," he cried angrily and tried to run off. Nathaniel put his hand on the dwarf's shoulder and looked deep into his eyes. "They will, my friend. At first light we will track them. But we are needed here first. To help these people recover, they have lost much tonight." He insisted. Grolt stopped and looked at the chaos around him then agreed begrudgingly. They both helped to clean up the camp; patch up the wounded; and bury the dead. It was a sombre night after that, with no one uttering a word.

At first light, as promised, Nathaniel packed up their things and they began to track the dark elves. Part of him believed they would be long gone by now, but he wanted to offer his friend the chance of revenge. They left the remaining bandits and set off at swift jog into the hills, heading deeper into the rough terrain. Nathaniel had tracked animals and goblins many times in his life and knew that dark elves would probably not be too difficult to track either. Grolt seemed exceptionally determined and did not seem to tire as they ran on their hunt. Now and again they would stop so Nathaniel could examine the area for signs. It was not difficult to see where there had been footfall since the brush was quite dense and usually untrodden. Pressing on they moved into a deep ravine, covered in thick shrubbery. The deeper in they got, the more dense and foul the air felt. Nathaniel slowed their pace and they looked at each other, clearly of the same thought. Quietly they crept on, following the path of the ravine. The walls were rocky and slick with a bright green moss, which was a little damp to the touch.

The next corner they rounded, ahead of them they could see a small camp, though it appeared deserted. Treading even more carefully than before, they approached clutching their weapons and ready to fight. At the camp the ravine opened out a little. There was a fire still smouldering, and signs of recent life. It was not until they were almost on the camp that they could see the dark elves. Clearly they had been cloaked from a distance and only visible from spitting distance. All three dark elves looked up in shock at the intruders. Before they could even stand, Grolt darted over, roaring as he ran at them. The nearest foe quickly grabbed his weapon and blocked Grolt's first blow. The dwarf was exceptionally nimble though and danced and leapt around the dark elf, exchanging blow after blow. This was the first time Nathaniel had seen him fight and he was amazed. Grolt then rolled through the elf's legs then knocked him to the floor. With an almighty swing he buried the axe in his opponent's face, ending his life. He then turned ready to receive the oncoming blow of the next dark elf.

Nathaniel quickly shook himself from the amazement of watching he great skill with which Grolt fought. He then launched himself toward the other two dark elves. They were exceptional warriors, as he had experienced first hand for the first time back in Ollorath, but he had been training daily since living at Lake Nimwe, preparing for the day he would face them again. The first clash of blades vibrated in his body and sung in his ear, like a sweet song he had not heard in many years.

Darting around his opponent, ducking and weaving; blocking and parrying; he did not take long to find and exploit an opening. Nathaniel brought his glaive heavy across the chest of his opponent. The dark elf was flung backward into the rocky wall of the ravine and dropped to the floor, stunned. He was however relatively unharmed and his armour was unmarked, though it glowed like a rainbow where Nathaniel had hit him. The dark elf fumbled to get to his feet as Nathaniel rushed on to him again. Using the length of the glaive, he pulled his legs out from underneath him then twirled the glaive round to drive the blade into the elf's neck. The light behind his eyes died almost instantly. Nathaniel gave the blade a good twist just to make sure he was fully dead, then removed it and turned to check on Grolt. He was still locked in combat with the final dark elf and so Nathaniel ran across to assist his friend. Together they would be able to more easily overcome the foe. The additional assault from Nathaniel distracted him sufficiently for Grolt to land the killing blow. He charged up the ravine wall and leapt through the air, swinging one of his axes to take the dark elf's head clean off its shoulders.