The Mines of Hodbar

"Mien! Mien!

Smith! Smith!

Ierun! Ierun!

Hodbar! Hodbar!

Pickackses! Pickackses!

Vunderfall thangs!

Hemmers! Hemmers!

Brillient thangs!

Mien! Mien!

Smith! Smith!

Hodbar vill vin faereffer!"

Mervo groggily woke to the sounds of the song. Blinking, he asked, "What? How? Arbor!"

"Hmm? What about Arbor?" came a familiar voice.

This was all needed to fully wake up the young fox. His father was near him. Leaping from the cot he was on, he leaped into his smiling parents arms.

"Oh, glad to see you back," said Zeela.

Mervo nodded. Joy rushed through his body, healing the woods he had. Then a dark thought cast through his mind as he remembered Arbor Brock's tale.

The young fox bit his lip. "Mother, father, I have something to tell you..."

oooooooooooo

"THAT BADGER!" cried Zeela, as Erzvin winced from the loud sound.

"HE WAS A FOOL! DOOMED HIS OWN RACE, TOO! HE JUST THINKS THIS IS OKAY?"

"No, he–" began Mervo, then stopped himself when he realized that he was defending Arbor. "You're right."

Zeela nodded. "WHAT WAS HE THINKING?"

"That he was trying to save the empire," answered Erzvin, but was silenced by a glare from his family members.

"Hurr, well we can't do anything 'bout it," said Bungle the mole.

"Aye," agreed easy-going Rivertunnel. "Wot's done is done. But we can do something about it. He talked about an all–"

"OF COURSE YOU DON'T THINK IT'S THAT BAD, YOU'RE NOT... VERMIN... LIKE–"

"Vell, I see the yung focks hass avoken," came a strange accent, as a tall, strong mole walked into the room-cavern.

The three foxes, otter, and mole stopped in awkward silence as the mole came in.

Still smiling, the mole said, "I em Villyemm uv Hodbar Mien."

Rivertunnel frowned as he muttered to the others, "Can hardly understand 'em with their accent, especially their songs."

The others nodded their agreement, except for Mervo. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, I understand them just fine, doesn't sound like a–"

"Vood yew liek a toor uv Hodbar?" asked Villyemm.

"Err... sure," replied Mervo.

Villyemm's smile widened. "Cumm vith mee. I vill show yew thee graettest mien Noen."

ooooooooooooooo

As the moles mined, they sung songs in tune with the beating of their pickaxes. Their dialect was so strong Burgle, Erzvin, Zeela, and Rivertunnel could hardly understand, but while Mervo noticed their was something strange about it, it sounded like his own dialect to him.

"Hodbar, Hodbar, Hodbar,

Vunder efree vare.

Hodbar, Hodbar, Hodbar,

Ife spent mie hool lief heere!

Ierun, mien fahr Ierun,

Maek summ picks and hemmers!

Cool, cool, mien fahr summ cool,

Keepe thee fierss burnayng!

Fier, fier, smith vith fier,

And summ Ierun too!

Smith mennie thangs to mien,

Put them too graet uess!

Poetasyum, potasyum, blow potasyem–"

BOOM!

"Put too graet... auld... uess!

Hodbar!"

"What in the name of the Land of Ice and Snow was that?" asked Erzvin, wiping dust from his face. A great explosion

Villyemm chuckled. He grabbed a handful of gray powder from a bowl and let it sift through his fingers. "Potasyum powder. Vith vahter it exploedss, let's uss mien faster."

The others nodded their head, except Rivertunnel, who looked grim. "Argh, mateys! This stuff is wot I think the vermin used!"

Recognition dawned on them. "Yes," agreed Erzvin. "It is."

Villyemm looked confused. "Vaht yew meen?" the mole asked in his drawling dialect.

The travelers explained their whole situation, with Silvertung, Darkblood, the vermin, and the state the abbey was in.

The mole nodded sadly, his smile had faded away. "Ie feel sahrroe, mie frents. Vaht ken vee doo too help?"

Rivertunnel answered, "We need to get to Salamandastron, help those there."

Zeela shook her head. "We need to find the all-cure."

Villyemm nodded. "Cumm. Ie vill take yew to our leedar."

ooooooooooooooo

"All haell thee grate and mietee Hiemiener Alvladd!" called Villyemm, showing them into a cavern.

Highminer Alvladd was a proud sight, standing in front of a silver throne with velvet cushions. The mole was much taller and broad-shouldered then the common mole, he was a bit larger than Rivertunnel, the largest of the travelers. He wore a long scarlet cloak with flowing designs in a lighter shade covering it. Underneath he wore a dark green buttoned tunic and a belt with a silver buckle, and dark brown pants. He wore great boots covered in designs made from pure gold. His crown was mighty, made from all manner of ores and decorated with brilliant gems, emeralds, sapphires, and so on. In his right paw he carried a pickax nearly the size of Mervo, and in his left he carried a massive hammer made of iron, even larger than the pickax. Under the crown was a noble face with a strong jaw and thick beard covering his dark fur. His mouth was neither smile nor frown, so they knew not yet what he thought of them. The only color below the crown and above his neck was his, eyes a brilliant dark green lit with a fire the travelers had seen in warriors such as Skipper Tunger and the Tapestry of Martin the Warrior.

The great mole spoke in a booming, powerful voice, with an accent different than those of his moles. "You come to my mine, the Great Hodbar? Why did you come here?"

The travelers first reaction was to point at Mervo, as they were following him. The young fox took a nervous step forward.

Highminer Alvladd took a step forward and touched his forehead, closing his eyes deeply. After many moments, the Highminer said, "So young, yet so wise. Still, you have much to learn." The mole walked back and sat on his throne, settling into the cushions and setting the pickax and hammer to the side. "I have learned your tale, and I know Arbor sent you, and I know what you must do."

The travelers, and Villyemm, looked forward eagerly. "Hurr, wot is it," asked Bungle eagerly.

The mole pointed a strong claw at Zeela. "You are a great healer. You have knowledge of herbs. What is the all-cure?"

Zeela looked confused, "That's what it means?"

Alvladd nodded slowly.

"Well, that would be the flowers of Icetor boiled in spring water, I suppose. But that's ridiculous, just an old wives tale."

Rivertunnel looked offended. "Hey! Those flowers are real! My ancestor, Thrugg, saved the abbey with them!"

Zeela shrugged. "Then I guess they're real. But they only grow in the North Mountains."

Villyemm chuckled. "Ahaha! Vixen, we're under the North Mountains!"