Axe and The Wolf

Chapter ll - Fur and Wood

"For every drop of dwarf blood they spilled, I'll take a river of theirs!"– Slayer Borin Grudgebearer, vowing retribution against a human merchant guild that attacked his brother's caravan.

The paved road expanded into a fork, some carts split off, their drivers wishing each other a safe journey and success in their business endeavors, Ulfrun turned to his Uncle "I assume they are going to the capital of the Northmen?" Boromir nodded, seeing the majority of the carts leaving the main body of the convoy, along with their armed escort. "Aye, they are going to Björnvik, most of the big bussiness opportunities are found there, lad." Ulfrun had only been there once, he recalled, and he wasn't taller than a halfling back then, "You were a wee lad back when your parents took you there, you were like 8 or 9, no taller than a gobbo, I assume you don't remember much of it, eh?" Ulfrun nodded in agreement "Aye well, yeah, I can't say the memories are too detailed or present, kind of fuzzy, I do remember a reindeer stew I ate at one of the inns." Boromir giggled "I think it's at the...uhm...Drunken Moose, they have a stew called the Hunter's Delight or something, it's one with lingonberries and mushrooms, that's good, damn now I want a bowl of it." Ulfrun nodded and smiled "Well, I would like one too, or maybe two, we'll have to do with these, poor us." he finished as he pulled two large smoked sausages from his rucksack, giving one to his uncle. "Ye made these ones before leaving?" asked the older smith, to which his nephew nodded "Well, yes and no" he swallowed the chewed meat "I made these for the journey, but not yesterday or something like that" they continued chewing, then Boromir spoke up "Fucking hell, lad, these are good, what did you put in them?" Ulfrun smiled and answered with pride "Well, meat, obviously, pork and beef, and bacon, some dried garlic, some pepper, mustard seeds and uhm...and salt, of course." His uncle bounced the half eaten sausage up and down between of his index and thumb, while chewing and with his mouth half full, something his mother Irena wouldn't even let him think about doing, Boromir said "Well shit, if the forge ends up going tits up and it fails, we'll sell your sausages, maybe we'll end up even richer."

The day continued and started to give way into the dusk, the sky's light began to dim and the light blue began to show light oranges and pinks. The indistinct conversation of Boromir and the driver of the cart almost began to lull Ulfrun to sleep, his lids felt as if they were made of lead, the embrace of a nap almost took hold of him when a rush of branches and a dark figure moved between the trees, moving at a rapid pace away from a particularly thick section of foliage, Ulfrun's green eyes narrowed, his ability to see in darkness, inherent to his people aided in trying to discern details, naught but the faint shape of wolf like ears disappearing into the woods was visible to him. "A wolf, must have been..." he thought to himself. The carts stopped after sunset, the driver stretching his legs with a groan and a curse, and a couple of cracks of his joints, Ulfrun had begun to doze off once again, he soon realized that they had to set up camp, he noticed his uncle had already begun to gather firewood for a campfire, he hopped off the back of the cart, he felt his left foot numb from being under his right leg, he hobbled to the side of the cart while his foot came back to normal, his uncle had noticed him and laughed "Told ye to not cross yer legs like that when you sleep, Ulf, you always end up with a numb foot." The young dwarf began helping to set up the tents, before long, the fire's warmth soon reaching the sitting merchants and the two smiths, being in front of the fire, Ulfrun took time to study the caravan going northwards, after the split of the carts, only 4 carts remained from what he counted to be almost 12, in total about 30 dwarves of different ages were in the camp, some families of the merchants and other people who had bussiness to attend in the settlement. An old dwarf with a particularly large nose came into the fire with an accordion strapped to his chest, he lacked a moustache but his white beard was of a respectable length, Ulfrun noted. The reedy and organ-like sound of the instrument filled the air slowly, his fingers fluttered and he began playing, a war song in Khuzdul that spoke of a young soldier whose wife had lied to him and cheated on him, and while smoking a pipe decides to die in battle on top of his goat, but when he's charging into the onslaught of arrows his mount saves him from dying in combat, much to his chagrin. The elder dwarf's voice was surprinsingly lively and well tuned, other dwarves joined in singing, even Boromir, much to Ulfrun's amusement, he himself did not know the words to the song, blaming it on his father never really singing war songs for the miners and by consequence himself and the rest of the family, most songs he sung as a Tunnel Voice were work songs, meant to keep the pace or drinking songs meant to keep morale up, often changing lyrics to be funnier or to be cheesier.