"A Dwarf, a Wizard and an Elf Meet in the Woods."

Part II – Silver Tree

A/N: I could not resist writing a little more about this odd trio's adventures. Amazing what you learn about your own characters when you let them have little down-time.

Chapter 17 – A Favour Asked

Thud!

The throwing axe split the target and dug deep into the tree trunk.

"Not bad, lad", observed Garlt Gemfinder.

The dwarf, sitting on a stone bench behind and off to the side of where the axe-thrower stood, directed his student. "Now. Stand on that bucket an' do it."

Puzzled, small axe in hand, a shirtless Stefane turned to the dwarf.

"Why should I stand on a bucket to throw an axe", he asked?

"It'll simulate uneven footin'. Ye won't always be standin' in an inn's pretty little back courtyard when its time to lodge an axe in some misbehavin' critter. Bucket!"

Shaking his head, the young man stepped over to the nearby bucket, up-ended it and stepped up onto it. It wobbled slightly beneath his feet.

"I'm cold", complained Stefane. "But let me guess. Training half-naked in a brisk mountain breeze 'simulates' the extreme weather we will encounter as we head into the Orcish Alps?"

"Aye, ye got it, lad. Now, throw!" Ordered the dwarf.

Stefane missed the small target but did manage to strike the tree.

"Na bad. Now, on one foot."

Stefane did not bother to argue against throwing from such a silly stance. Master Gemfinder had his particular ways and, in Stefane's view, logic had no part in it.

Concentrating he lifted a foot off the bucket. His wobbling increased. He slowly raised his arm, another small axe in hand. He was tipping over!

He launched the weapon.

Tumbling end over end, the axe missed the tree and embedded itself into the west wall of the inn's storage shed, narrowly missing the head of a kitchen thrall who was scurrying about his day's business.

Casting Stefane a dark look, the servant bustled off.

"Mebbe enough for today, lad", chuckled the dwarf. "Ye can put yer shirt an' jerkin back on".

"Oh, what a shame!" A voice called out from behind the duo. "Stefane half-naked is why so many of the servants find an excuse to pass by this way, Master Gemfinder."

"Ah, yer back. Hmph. Did seem thet a lot of the lasses and lads were passing this way this afternoon." Garlt looked over at the speaker who stood in a shaded doorway to his left. "Any luck getting' to see thet Baron this time?"

Daelynn stepped out of the shadows and into the yard, shuddering as the cold wind blowing about the yard cut through the thin dress she wore. Stefane's eyes dropped to an area several inches or so below the elf's shoulders. Blushing, he turned away.

Crossing her arms, the elf shuddered. "It is a tad nipply out here. There is a pot of fresh kava on. Let's talk inside, Master Gemfinder."

Dwarf and elf headed into the inn while Stefane collected his newly acquired throwing axes. Not having been invited to join them inside, he decided to dress then clean and sharpen his new weapons.

One of the inn's barmaid's, a buxom red-head nearing middle-age, ogled Stefane as she passed through the courtyard.

The inn's taproom, warmed by a cheery blaze in the large fireplace that took up a fair portion of the inn's north wall, was near empty at this hour. Daelynn sat down in a large over-stuffed chair close to the fire. Garlt hopped into a smaller chair that was set opposite the elf. Between them, a steaming samovar and two cups rested on a small table.

The dwarf looked at what the table offered, then glanced over at the untended bar. Deciding it was too much effort to get himself a stout, he nodded to the elf as she poured a hot cup of kava and offered it to him.

Pouring a cup for herself, Daelynn settled back into the very comfortable chair and regarded the dwarf, her violet eyes half closed. Garlt stared back with his one bright blue eye.

"If ye've got somethin' to say, spit it out, Herald", grumbled the dwarf.

"You are training him." Observed the elf.

"Yup. He needs it. It won't stop him from dyin' but he might last a little longer with a few pointers."

"Ah. So, you intend to grant his request and allow him to accompany you on your journey north? Into the Orcish Alps? In winter?"

"Yes. And yes. And it's late autumn, not winter."

"Close enough to winter as not to matter, once you cross the pass. But you know that." Daelynn hesitated. "You could not dissuade him from joining you?"

"Nope. He feels he owes me his life, fer me takin' that blast from thet Lich-like magus' wand. An he's right. I did save his life. It's now a matter of honour fer 'im. Something as a former knight I understan'."

Daelynn nodded.

After arriving in Silver Tree four days ago, the trio had taken rooms at an excellent inn, where they had formally dissolved their Articles of Adventuring. Garlt had stated his intention to journey further north into the mountains. He would not say why. Stefane declared that he would accompany the dwarf. An argument had ensued with Stefane stating that he was apprenticing himself to the dwarf and Garlt flatly refusing to have a 'wanna-be mage taggin' along, slowin' me down and needin' babysittin'"!

But the next day, Stefane's training had started under the dwarf's tutelage.

"He has a good eye and a steady hand", commented Daelynn.

"Aye. Darn good at throwin' things. Axes, knives, stones. With his height and reach, I'm thinkin' javelins. They're a fair ranged weapon, an' when ranks close up, he can use one hand-to-hand."

"What?" Asked Daelynn, in feigned surprise. "You are not going to rely on his magics?"

The dwarf chuckled in response. "He has improved on a few small spells. An' what magic items he has he uses well. But no. I feel safer when he has a weapon in his hand an' no chance to cast!"

Daelynn laughed, but quickly turned serious.

"Speaking of magic, any luck in finding another way to reverse the aging effect of the wand attacks you suffered in the Spire", she asked?

"Nah", answered Garlt. "The local alchemist, an' thet hedge-wizard fellow, an' a cleric of Ilamter all say the same thing. It is beyond their abilities and what this town can help with - other than the potions offered by the alchemist."

"Good thing you won that bet with Stefane. It is a costly remedy."

"Harumph! A thousand gold for five potions to get back fifty years? Worth it! But with the cost of those potions, an' supplies for travel north, an' accommodation in these parts, plus outfittin' me 'squire'? Well, I've only a handful of coin left."

"Only half the years you lost? I could loan you gold for more potions", offered Daelynn.

"Thanks, elf. But it's not the cost. There's some downsides takin' too many of those youth potions. Certain side-effects I'm not willin' to take on", explained the dwarf. "An' each potion after the previous one is slightly less potent, but the ingredients to make 'em costs the same. Gettin' fifty years back out of a hundred is fine by me."

"When do you and Stefane set out?"

"In two or three days. I'm waitin' on some armour work by a smith. An' I ordered winter clothing fer me and the lad from thet gnomish tailor. Winter is comin'. Need warm booties."

"I hear that the tailor is amazing!" Daelynn stated. "His skills are unparalleled here in Northern Province. He even takes orders from southern nobles for winter furs."

The elf and dwarf drifted into a pleasant silence, each sipping on their cup of potent kava.

After a few moments Garlt addressed the elf.

"An yer job, Herald. How goes thet?"

Daelynn shook her head.

"I have yet to be granted an audience with the Baron", she confided. "As a Herald I could demand one, but I always try to play nice – at least in the beginning. The Baron thinks he can avoid me but the three days' wait has allowed me to gather more information about his 'taxation' schemes. He is bleeding this barony dry. I have heard rumours that he has ten wagons loaded with silver ready to be hauled away."

"Ye called 'im a baron pro tempore. So, he's not the true baron of these parts?" Asked Garlt.

"No", answered Daelynn. "This northern area, called The Northern Marches, is a testing ground for those who would make claim to another, contested, barony. They are awarded this town and surrounding lands to rule for three years. If they are successful, as determined by Council vote, they may be accorded a new barony elsewhere in the north or west, or some other coveted post. After two years, the current Baron, Arital Hesh, was recalled by Council. Too many discrepancies in his accounts. The Herald who preceded me here, my friend Vansel, was to deliver the recall notice."

"Ah. An' thet were his Herald's badge we found on the brigands? So, were he slain by forest thieves before or after he could deliver thet notice?"

"A good question, Master Gemfinder", replied the elf. "As I tire of waiting, I will take more direct action tonight to find out."

"Ye know, ye phrased thet in an interestin' way. Not plannin' anything nefarious are ye?"

"Hardly. Just a scouting mission. But I could use Stefane's height and your eyes… eye."

Garlt smiled. "Well, as me funds are getting' low, it'll cost ye dinner an' a few of them fine stouts our host makes. Did ye know he learned brewin' from dwarves? His ale is almost as fine as a dwarven stout, and a good sight better then any I've drunk in the south of yer kingdom!"

"I did not know about the brewing, but I did hear that he once adventured with dwarves. Something about a mine in the mountains to the north of Silver Tree."

Daelynn leaned forward, staring at the dwarf. "You would not be looking for a lost dwarven mine, would you?"

Garlt's smile faded. "No, of course not. Lost mines are a fool's quest. It's a little early, but let's eat. Then, I can do ye thet favour."