Fight Without a Sword

It's Politics

The burly armored guards led Braka and Strond by the arms out of the hall, down a flight of stairs, and out into the harsh sunlight of the mid afternoon. Before the dwarves' eyes could adjust, they were shoved hard from behind and stumbled into the grass. Fearing the worst, but steadfast in the acceptance of their fate, the Heroes of the Hill, as they had become known throughout the land, rubbed the spots from their eyesight.

To their combined surprise, it was not an executioner's block that stood before them, but rather King Dylja Braor himself, arms crossed over his chest and wearing a sad expression.

"You boys really messed everything up, you know that?" said the King, who just recently was screaming at Strond and Braka, and threatening their lives, yet now talking as if they were all old friends.

"Sire?" Strond asked while Braka stood by silently, too dumbfounded to speak.

"The rest of your careers were set. You were to be famous dwarves all over Brenna! But you couldn't keep your hands off of each other, could you?"

Braka's face regained the defiance it held during his speech from the dais, and he began to give the same explanation all over again, saying, "It's none of your business," but the King cut him off.

"I know it's not, Braka Hammaer. I don't give three human shits if you two want to get married and muck about together for the rest of your lives. Unfortunately, the scryers saw everything, and I have to pretend to be outraged by your love. It is the law, after all, as my advisors so helpfully pointed out," the King complained, now pacing again as he did in the meeting hall. Suddenly Dylja spun on his heels, pointed a finger in Strond and Braka's direction, and said, "If only you had waited until you arrived here to fall in love with each other. It would have been so much easier. Do you know how many noble dwarves, married noble dwarves with families, run around with other dwarves of the same sex behind their spouses' backs? Males and females alike! It's not that uncommon a practice at court."

His anger rising, Braka clenched his fists and demanded, "Then what's with the theatrics, Your Grace? Why put us through all of this?"

Strond laid a calming hand on his partner's shoulder and said, "Easy, Braka. Getting angry with the King will do us no good at all. But, Sire, I must ask the same question, if in a much calmer manner. Why the... circus?"

Dylja Braor, ruler of the Kingdom of Mount Storr, rubbed at his face with both hands and said, "It's politics. You two are known to be the heroes of our people now. If I were seen to let the heroes of all dwarfkind get away with breaking the laws, even old and outdated ones, then there would be chaos in the kingdom. Dwarven society functions so well because we all follow the rules and laws set forth by our ancestors. And if we do break those laws and rules, we do so in the privacy of our own homes. Not out in the damn open for anyone to see!"

Braka reached down and took ahold of Strond's hand, saying, "I don't care. I love him and I'm not going to hide in the shadows about it. It would never have been hidden, we would always have come right out and told everyone."

Strond squeezed Braka's hand in agreement, and added, "He is correct, Your Majesty. We would have been honest. It's our duty as dwarves."

The King laughed from deep within his belly at the thought of breaking one law, but refusing to lie about it because it was against the law. The whole thing seemed so ridiculous to Dylja, but that was politics. It never really made any sense.

"You're the bloody King, why can't you just change the law?" Braka asked.

Both Strond and Dylja were taken aback by this question.