Ch 2: The First Step Is Always The Hardest
Nerves twisted my gut as I flew around my room making sure I had my essentials packed. Couldn't bring more than a few knives as it's a spy mission on a peace meeting but still. My heart fluttered and I couldn't keep my stupid grin off my face for the life of me. My first mission! And one so important.
I'm under no illusions. The only reason I got this far is because my father, despite the fact that he claims that he treats me the same as any newbe. I will, of course, have a fully armed guard traveling with me in case of an emergency but I refuse to think too deeply about it because for the first time in years I'll be able to travel, see new things and meet new people. Of course I know it won't all be rainbows and nug babies but I'll be ready for anything! Just get me out of here! The routine has gotten boring and my wanderlust has surprisingly returned this last year, just after I thought I was completely done with the whole idea. Certainly it's been long enough that I romanticized it.
Setting my meager packs onto my bed I look around with a smile on my face. Everything is clean and orderly and by time I come back it will be covered in a carpet of dust as a lonely air surrounds it. But I do not know this just yet and my spirit jumped in excitement. Bounding out, my arms leaden down by my packs, I skip the squeaky steps and floor boards downstairs to find my father and his partners talking animatedly about the inevitable success of my mission. Flashing him a quick grin I spirit out of the door, ignoring the loud shriek as it slammed wide open.
I spot my uncles walking and preparing with the company and ponies. Nodding deeply in their direction I make my way to the wily sable that is to be my own steed. Carefully setting my things down I approach the anxious creature, a snagged apple in my open palm and my other hand outstretched for her straps. It is an old and practiced dance but I think she appreciates it all the same as she quickly ducks her snout under my hand and swallows the small fruit in a couple bites.
Taking hold of her straps I slowly lead her to my packs, patting her neck the whole way. Placing my things in the small saddle bags proves more difficult than I anticipated as Marigold shied away playfully as if to entice a game. It took two more apples and a bonk on the head to stand still. I secure the bags along the ponies saddle along with the small tent and supplies I will be charge of, exchanging items between packs to equalize the weight. I'm about to leg up when my uncles call out. Looking back I see them lined up with smiles of varying degrees of happiness splitting their faces.
"Uncles! I see you found it in your bitter old hearts to send me off."
Smirking I dodge the halfhearted swipes of anger, digging even more at their advanced ages to their ever growing exasperation. Especially Uri who's hair was more grey than black nowadays. His gruff voice calls me to a standstill and I obey as I have since my childhood albeit with a much more mischievous smile. Rolling his eyes at me he pulls a pouch from his pocket.
"Here, some elfroot potion." I open it up to find vials, in their individual slots lining the sides, of concentrated elfroot and whatever else he puts in there to make it so efficient. It's usually commissioned to agents going on much higher level jobs because of the long creation process. Nasty stuff but could help in a pinch of I need pain numbing and a burst of energy. Fen stepped up next, his own pouch a bright red color.
"And some poison. Can't be too careful with those high and mighty snobs."
I accept the gift and carefully open it to see the trademark poison vials with the black stamped corks. A laughing skull was burn printed onto the top and I know immediately what this is. He bottles it like this so we can know when we feel for it we know to handle it with the gloves that come in the pouch. No one knows what is in it except Fen and Uri but I do know the nasty side effects of it getting into your bloodstream. Puking blood, hemorrhaging in the brain, and after a few days necrosis if not enough is applied to kill. Fortunately the slim blue bottle with an X printed on the top holds the antidote and you only have to take half the amount of poison. Gaping up at his smug face he strokes his goatee and the groomed and twirled mustache, the braids from his mutton chops quivering with humor along with his mustache. Weston's kind smile contradicts the hard elbow jabbed into his brothers side.
"A few beads for your hair. Might catch yourself a One and you want to be sitting high an pretty yea?"
He drops the simple polished pine box in my hands and I unclasp the iron lock to find ten good sized beads in their own hollow of satin. Silver with three perfect circles of mother of pearl. Looking closely I can see a simple but elegant vine design etched into the top and bottom with the idea of tiny flowers all along the vines length. They are beautiful and a work of dedication and craft. My throat closes and I wipe away a few traitorous tears. Offering him a watery smile I turn to Sasha who doesn't sign anything to me, only delicately reaches into the box and one by one deftly braids my hair in an looping up do with no meaning and strategically clips Weston's beads on.
I can't even pretend to be confused by the pretty beads purposes. It's a warning to my standing to other dwarves and a calling card to the Lords of the Carta to those in the know. I saw the runes hiding among the flowers. But he also slips some wild flowers in my braids along side the warnings. Smiling at his simple declaration of love while my other uncles argued if sending me in full metal armor is a good idea I finally mount my pony. He helps me up, bushy brown beard tickling my hands and as I look down I see that his smile is bright and wide. Enough that I can see the hollow behind his teeth where his tongue should have been. His eyes twinkle in the sunlight with pride and a few tears seeing me decked out and on my first mission.
"Do you think you could leave without a goodbye to me?" I turn to see my bright faced father, not a normally smiling man but I can see his own happiness, and I feel the sting of tears once again. Leaning down I allow him to nearly drag me off and crush me to his chest. Staying like that for a few tender moments we separate and I notice another weight in the forefront braid. An iron bead, faded but the elaborate design still visible after so many years. It will be the first time since I came home that he is without it and we smile to each other in understanding and love.
Whistling sharply I nod to my small farewell party, my own traveling group growing impatient except for the ever jolly Grog, one of fathers own personal guard and a man I've known since birth, and to my father who I know will watch after me long after I cross the horizon. Without looking back I have Marigold trot on southwards to the next step in my life. A big, stomach dropping, breath taking step. I really wasn't ready for anything was I?
)*(
It's only been a week on the road and I'm already sick of it. The other agents are silent and ride way ahead or behind and even off the trail, often only showing up at my side if I'm near other travelers or to set up camp. I've long exhausted my list of songs and while my nose has adjusted itself to the smell of musty horse hair the cheeky bitches saddle is uncomfortable as hell. I would embroider something if I had thought of the boredom. All I could do was think of impossible situations involving a dastardly villain and a ballsy heroin, namely myself, saving the day with a war cry on her lips and fire in her heart. In the months to come I will remember this moment and I will laugh and laugh and laugh. And if I am to cry ugly sobs toasting away my idealistic innocence, well, no one was around to say.
Suddenly I am surrounded by my guard, a few women and a couple men disguised as my family members traveling to visit a novel human colony. Only the women were riding while the men's ponies were used as animals of burden. If it weren't for the stillness of there shoulders and hands despite their animated talking I would never have suspected them to be anyone but a group of traveling family members. Around the corner a caravan of humans and their servant elves appear ahead of us. From the family crest and stick-up-my-ass expressions the humans had, I can safely assume they are going to the meeting also. Great.
My companions expressions twist only momentarily and if someone didn't have experience seeing expressions under beards one would never notice the subtle shifting. While I would usually be a bit miffed at their unprofessionalism, I can't say that looking at the skittish and wide eyed elves sat right with me. I just didn't have a beard to hide under so with effort I twisted my sour expression into one of a joyful maiden and smile gently at the poor creatures with as much compassion as I can muster. A few look a bit surprised other suspicious and my heart aches. A human, a steward I think, pulled up to us on a irate horse with a smarmy smile and beady eyes, slightly watery like a new born calf just not half as cute.
"Hello there!" He speaks with unnecessary loudness even without our stone etched hearing. Almost as if he forget that our people invented the tongue he uses.
"Lovely day to travel hm?" When nothing but polite smiles and quiet murmurs meet him he huffs a bit nervously and adjusts his collar. A thin sheen of sweat covers his upper lip darkening the shaved mustache and he barely looks to be 20 years. A mere baby to my 43 although comparatively by race I guess I would be younger.
"Well, I guess I will not waste any of your time then. My master was wondering if perhaps a group with your expertise would be willing to traverse with us the rest of the way on our journey."
It took all I had not to blow my cover as the default leader of my group and take on the blank look of a proper youngest sister while Grog, a joyful dwarf who's belly and twinkling eyes do a good job of hiding his monstrous strength and light feet, speaks on our groups behalf.
"Our expertise? Lad, I have not the slightest clue to what you mean. And I know you are not a thinking my sister and cousins to be whores but seeing the male guards in your party perhaps you are, eh?"
The suddenly even younger steward coughs and stammers while turning red. His eyes flick to us in barely hidden interest and disgust. Common for human men. Always wanting the tits but not the beards. He stops on me a bit longer, taking note of my lack of facial hair perhaps, then looks away. A solider of sure prestige sighs and pulls next to us also. His gaze is much more appreciative but not border line improper like the boys. Perhaps a bit of surprise at the large amount of women outside of their gilded mountains.
"The boy meant nothing of the like sir. We had just assumed a group with so many women and no armed escorts would be skilled in combat of some kind. And if not, we wished to invite you to join us for protection sake, seeing such a young one ride with you."
I pouted a bit as he gestured to me and called me young. My lack of beard was a bit of a sore spot and I do not like it mentioned, thank you very much. Grog laughed a bit at my expression although I can see him inwardly cursing for not having the foresight to bring more men. Above ground we do not have the luxury of being lazy females. In this world of filth and rape and ravage we must work as hard as our menfolk and disregard the many centuries of useless mountain etiquette. This leaves us to forget what should and shouldn't be proper unfortunately, compromising a few far between missions.
"Aye, young she is but she's almost to her majority. Bit of a soft spot to her eh."
The soldier looks a bit shocked at this but recovers gracefully, tilting his head and apologizing. His gaze is a bit more interested than before and I puff a bit. No sense in driving away interest of a handsome man, human or not. My eyes catch sight of a few braids in his light brown hair and beard but disregarded it as a human fashion statement and did not look very closely at them.
"Think nothing of it lad. Although I must ask, how are you able to judge a dwarfs age so confidently?"
His cheeks ruddy a bit and I find it charming.
"My grandmother is a dwarf of the Copper Mountains. She tries to keep us as in touch with our heritage as she can. And that includes proper hair care and signs."
Now my interest is spiked. I can see the basic braids of a young man in his facial and head hair. The tiny brass beads clasped to them are simplistic but beautiful and well cared for, the etched runes showing a soldier of rank and a young man not married or courting. Interesting. I think he sees me looking as his arms flex a bit and his lips tilt with mischief. As Grog agreed to go with for 'the ladies safety' I can't help but revise my thoughts for this trip. It is going quite amazingly and by the sidelong glances the soldier, Villiam, sent me I think he agrees.
