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None of the characters, and none of the mentioned names (aside from Zoltach, and the yet unnamed boy) are mine, they're all David Eddings' Property!
CHAPTER 4
Dusk was starting to fall on the grassy land when the young shepherd led his sheep, his dog and his two guests into a village not unlike the deserted one they had stumbled upon earlier. He stopped in front of one of the decrepit-looking huts and motioned them inside.
Polgara and Belgarath entered the lopsided building. Inside, it only had one large room, as was customary in houses of that kind. A warming fire burned in the middle of the floor, its smoke vanishing through an opening in the roof. A man stood nearby, watching over the slowly roasting chunk of meat that was rotated continously above the dancing flames. Three sleeping mats and three blankets lay in one corner, and in another corner, a woman was milking a goat, steaming white fluid collecting in a wooden bucket below the animal's udder.
From the doorframe, where she had stopped walking, Polgara called: "Excuse me, do you understand, what I am saying?"
The results were interesting, although not quite what she had hoped for: Two pairs of eyes widened at her question, and the man started talking hastily to his wife (or at least so they presumed), before he left the hut. The woman calmly got up from her task, taking the bucket with her, and offered the two sorcerers a place to sit with a few gestures. After she had made sure that her guests were comfortable, she got up, fetched some simple plates out of a wooden box and began to cut pieces from the meat her husband had prepared. She did not utter a word while she did all this. The boy sat down on the floor and made some curious looking hand gestures while murmuring something in his language. After a while, he looked up and flashed a smile at them.
The woman handed Belgarath a plate, then Polgara, then the boy (who was most likely her son). After that, she pulled some stoneware-like goblets out of the same box and filled some of the goat's milk into them. After that was done, she cut off some meat for herself and the man and sat down.
The boy dug his teeth into the meat (it smelled like mutton to the sorcerers) greedily, sign of his hunger. Polgara smiled at her hostess, hoping that this would serve as thanks before they managed to communicate in other ways, and started eating as well, her father folowing suit. They had eaten for about five minutes, when the woman's husband re-entered their hut. He had brought somebody with him: A white-haired man of middle build, clad in the same clothes the boy and his parents wore. Silently, he sat down next to Belgarath, nodding friendly by way of greeting. He spoke a few syllables to the two other adults, who joined her son on the other side at the fire, then he faced the two sorcerers once more and, to their astonishment, began to speak in comprehensible words:
"Welcome, friends. It is rare that Elenes seek our hospitality, but we give it freely."
After he had fought down his initial disbelief, Belgarath put down the almost empty plate and answered: "We thank you and yours", he nodded to the family opposite them, "for your help when we were in need. But we are not who you think we are. In fact, I have never heard of these Elenes. We come from a place called Vale, which is bordering on countries called Algaria and Ulgoland. Most likely you have never heard of those..."
The man lifted a hand, biding him to stop; his forehead furrowed in a frown. "In fact, I have heard the names you mentioned before. Maybe it is appropriate that I tell you exactly where you are and who we are, before you voice your questions, as there will be many.
"We are a race called Styrics, of a group altogether referred to as Styricum. You are in a country known as Elenia, on the continent of Eosia. This will sound unfamiliar to you, as it is no place in the realm you are accustomed to."
Belgarath gave his daughter a little smirk – his assumptions had proven right!
"Styricum has been hunted down and tortured throughout history, as we do not call any country our own, and our religion and customs differ from those of all other cultures. Furthermore, our Gods bestowed us with the 'Secrets', abilities called magic and witchcraft by other folk – not an endearing trait to most people, either. We are called heretics and pagans by the clerical institutions of the countries we reside in. The only city that is fully Styric in structure and folk is Sarsos, on the Daresian continent – half a world away.
"And now, before you ask why I tell you this, know that I know about your story being true from other individuals coming to us for aid in much the same way you and the young lady", he nodded to Polgara, "did. My story was meant as an introduction for people new to our world. My name is Galtan, these are Nemea", he pointed at the woman, "Lugath, her husband, and their son Dorgatan. Tell me, how did you get sent into this world?"
Polgara cleared her throat and proceeded to tell him about who they were and which circumstances had led to their transport to Eosia.
Galtan nodded. "This is an odd story – It seems that somebody created a doorway between our two realms, out of a reason I cannot fathom. Know that we have met people before who have been transported from your world to ours - quite a number actually, about 50 by my last guess. The way of transportation differed from yours, though. They stated that they had made it to our realm by means of... accidentally or willingly obliterating themselves."
So much for now... will write more as I feel the writing bug biting me again ;-) Please give me a comment by means of this nice purple box in the lower left corner!