Chapter 2
The sun rose swiftly, bathing the Iron Hills in warm light. Along the cold stone streets of the town walked a dwarf maiden unaccompanied; a rare sight by all accounts. She wore a dress that caressed the stone floor with each step she took; the midnight blue contrasting sharply with the pale white of the stone all around her. Other than her bliss, she carried a small, leather-bound book on her left hand, one of her fingers marking the page she had read last.
She walked past the shops set around the marketplace, briefly glancing upon the jewelry stands with little wonder. She acknowledged the beauty of the gems, but had no desire to spare more than a sideways glance to the stalls. She had grown accustomed to their presence there and she knew there would be plenty of other days in which she could indulge her eyes and shower the hearts of the jewelcrafters with attention and flattery. But not today. Today she held a burning desire to read, her most precious pastime, and there was a book in particular which intrigued her beyond reason. She had a feeling this story would be one to capture her heart and mind, and ensnare her attention well after she was done reading it.
Being a female from a family of good standing, she had the luxury of time and peace to indulge in her habits, and none of the responsibility that came along with it. Before the sun had risen any higher, the young female had reached her destination: the roof of the tallest watch tower west of the city. Ordinarily, no dwarf, female or otherwise, would have been seen in this place, save for the guards whose sworn duty was to overlook the plains beyond the city, placing an ever-watchful eye at whomever may wander into the city limits. Had this been the first time the blissful dwarf had climbed unannounced the steps of the tower, she might have had to explain her presence there; but as it was, many a sunny morning she had climbed those steps before and the guards who preferred the early morning to afternoon shift had already grown used to her presence there.
"Lady Anaêlia," greeted one of the dwarves, "what tale shall you read about today?" He smiled, acknowledging her presence. Ever since she had first come to this tower under the early morning sun, this particular dwarf had always been there keeping watch. At first, even though he had not bothered to send her away, he had been annoyed by her presence. That is, until she began to read aloud the contents of her book. It was a history book, filled with the accounts of recent battles of the armies of King Dáin, some of which the dwarf had seen first-hand as a young soldier. He grew to respect her for her interest in these tales, and came to ignore the rest of the maiden's qualities which were deemed to be less favorable.
"I shall read of romance and how its wings give flight to noble hearts." She answered, smiling, and waiting for the change in the dwarf's eyes that was common whenever she chose to read about anything other than war. Quickly noticing the dwarf shake his head slightly, she carried on with a smile to the corner of the tower where the sun shone best. The bitter chill of the early winter morning made Anaêlia seek the sun's comfort the most, instead of the privacy that she usually found at that height.
The second guard, who had fallen silent since the young maiden had arrived, looked at her from the short distance of his post, silently wondering whether he should disregard her presence at the tower or act against it. He was rather new at this post, and it was with bitterness that he had accepted it. His wish had been to join the army as a foot soldier and prove his worth over the years into higher ranks, bringing renown to his family for the first time. Unfortunately, the weaponmaster had deemed him unsuitable for combat, and recommended to his superiors that his talents laid on his sharp eye for lack of a steady hand. Nevertheless, the young dwarf had hope of proving his worth and he knew that a good word from a soldier might gain him favor with the officials. So he concealed his distrust for the maiden, echoing the demeanor of the older dwarf.
The hours passed and the morning chill began to fade away as the afternoon settled in. Still, Anaêlia read through the pages of her book, in silent contentment, as the dwarf guards looked quietly upon the distance. The plains lay still, the leafless trees asleep below the cold of the winter sky. Glancing over at the reading dwarf-lady, Kilnir, the eldest dwarf among them, broke the silence with his deep voice. "The afternoon is shorter these days than before, and it is drawing to an end. It may be best for you to leave before our replacements come, lest you are eager to meet them." He smiled at her. Although most days he appreciated the stillness atop of the tower, her company broke the idleness that his duty entailed, and for that, he was glad.
Anaêlia reluctantly closed her book and took a moment to gaze up at the sky before standing. Her mind had wandered into the depths of her book, and she never noticed the hours pass away like young birds eager to fly for the first time. Her hands had grown cold again, as had the stone around her. With a polite nod of her head, she took her leave of the tower, Kilnir's gaze fixed on the distance, and the other dwarf's eyes trailing after the ends of her long hair as she descended the stairs.
The marketplace had grown quieter, though still busy with craftsmen and women displaying their creations proudly at the walking crowd. One of them, the jewelmaker from before, called out to Anaêlia from behind his stall, ushering her to come to him. Curiosity engulfing her, she followed.
"I have many jewels befitting the daughter of a dwarf Lord. Do you care to take a look?" If Anaêlia seemed less interested in the jewels at the mention of her father, the jewelcrafter did not notice. Her sigh was inwardly, and she was careful not to show her dislike for him, as guilt reminded her that despite everything, without her father she would not have the fortune of the care-free life she had grown to enjoy.
"I find all of them beautiful, and expertly polished," she flattered skillfully, "yet I do not carry much else besides my book, and cannot offer it to you, as it pales in value." At her words, the craftsman smiled. "I meant not to gain gold from you, my Lady, but to offer a gift to you on behalf of my house. Look upon all of my stock and choose whichever jewel you desire. My wife will fashion it into a necklace that matches your beauty, and that shall be our gift to you." At the craftsman's words, Anaêlia understood his purpose. She did not consider herself beautiful; at least not remarkably so. The gift was intended for her father, who held power in the court of King Dáin, as a dwarf Lord and prime counsel to the King. The common craftsman, like others before him, had sought the attention of Anaêlia in hopes of gaining the favor of her father. Now the beauty of the jewels seemed dull with quiet rage, and Anaêlia tried harder to mask her dislike at her apparent invisibility.
"I cannot bring myself to choose one among so many fine jewels," she managed at last, urging her thoughts to flee from her mind, "you will have to forgive me." At this remark, the craftsman called out to his son, whom the maiden had never seen before. He requested his son and apprentice jewelmaker to choose a jewel for her. The dwarf, similar in age to Anaêlia, seemed taken aback by the request. Still, he scanned through his father's stock until he came to an emerald of deep, polished green. It had been cut into a circle, the gem's patterns adding shine despite the fading sunlight. "A radiant green to naturally compliment the copper of your hair, my Lady." His answer kept her quiet. She smiled politely, but her mind grew with wonder. She allowed herself to think that perhaps she was not invisible after all.
With a slight shiver from the morning cold, Anaêlia awoke to the chirping of birds outside. Her book lay on the small wooden table, looking particularly uninteresting from the outside. Her mind repeated certain passages from the pages of that book that had stayed with her since the day before. Before morning had fully set in, Anaêlia was already out in the streets. She was careful to leave each morning at a time when her father was distracted in other matters. Her mornings were more enjoyable to her without his company.
The market was already busy with life, although some merchants had hardly begun to set up their shops at this hour. As she trailed the familiar route from the day before, her book still in her left hand, she was distracted by the sound of a hammer heavy at work in a forge. At the end of a pathway, there was the weaponmaster's shop. The wooden door, fitted neatly between the stone walls, remained closed but unlocked. Not fully caring for the meaning of trespassing, Anaêlia silently entered the shop and closed the door behind her. The forge inside, tucked at the far corner of the room, dimmed the light of the torches placed on the stone walls. Only the sunlight that crept its way through a lone window competed against the fiery corner. There was a dwarf hard at work, pounding a hammer into what was to become a sword. Without announcing her presence, the dwarf walked down a curved stairwell that led onto an expansive basement, dug beneath the earth, that seemed to be used as a private training ground.
The room was circular, and an inner ring had been carved unto the stone floor, a few feet away from the cold, dark walls. Torches lit the entirety of the room in a remarkable fashion, bringing to light the wide array of weaponry and armor, hanging from the walls themselves. She stepped closer to the weapons, curious as to their forging. She began to scan the small axes, intricate runes curving along with the blade. She attempted to read them, but found that the light was not kind in that particular direction, and she preferred not to strain her eyes. She walked over to the longswords. These glimmered like treasure in a secret hoard, and were runeless. Walking deeper into the room, she stopped to marvel at a worn armor that was hung proudly as the memory of many battles was etched in the dents and tears that were visible. She felt her heart faint for a moment as an unmistakable sword's point came in touch with her back.
"You are not as quiet as you perceive yourself to be," came a voice, as cold as the steel that was threatening to pierce a layer of her skin. "Who are you and what is the meaning of your intrusion?"
She could feel the blade pointed ever closer at her back, and slowly, instinctively, raised her weaponless arms, her left hand still clinging to her book.
"My name is Anaêlia," she replied, carefully, "and it was my unchecked curiosity that led me into your house." At her words, the sword was lowered, and she took the chance to turn around. The smith stood still, his sword still raised.
"Curiosity? Had I not noticed you were a female since you passed through the front door, you would have been lying wounded within seconds. Did you ever think of that before you acted on curiosity?" There was a great deal of disapproval woven into the pronunciation of the last word. The female was unsure on how to respond. She tried to focus her mind on an apology, and a way out, but her mind wandered off to the tales of bravery and valor that were told of people like him who wore swords like his.
"Are these weapons of your own making?" She asked, overlooking both her common sense and his question, "For whose use was this ring built?"
The smith sighed and lowered his sword. There was something in Anaêlia that brought him memories he fought to keep at bay. "I have forged each and every weapon you see here. And on this ground I have trained in all of them. You would be wise to avoid heeding your curiosity before your good judgment. Another may not have reacted the way that I have. You endanger yourself needlessly."
Anaêlia dropped her gaze. It was not the first time she had heard those words, although she recognized in this dwarf a kindness she had not known elsewhere. In time, she rose her eyes and spoke again, "If you have taught yourself, then you must be able to teach any other. Good judgment prays that I be well prepared for when my curiosity is not in check. Will you not teach me to wield a weapon?" At her request, the weaponmaster fell silent, but a faint smile passed unnoticed through his face. The dwarf maiden definitely reminded him of somebody else.