~
Hwedolyn and Gwendolyn slept while they waited. The sun began to climb into the blue heavens, and still they slept, for they had flown a long way. It had certainly been longer than an hour; in fact, it was early afternoon when the dwarf returned.
He emerged from the hole, and said, “I am sorry for being so late to return – but I have glad news, gryphons! My brother King Hrammir was in the caverns of Zischá Findondae. He was on his way back to his kingdom, Vatrarfahond, in the West, for he had just been to a funeral – my funeral, in fact! He was glad to see me, however, though dwarves do not express such things with ease, and you might not perceive his gladness if you were not a dwarf. All the dwarves had thought that I was dead, and King Hrammir told me everything about my funeral, which was very splendid indeed, and it made me wish that I had been there. Or perhaps not!
“Upon hearing that you wish to avenge yourself upon the elf-mage, my brother King Hrammir refused to let me leave without making me agree to let him assist us with stout dwarf-fighters, and any other help he is able to give. This same elf-mage, upon whom you wish to avenge yourself has done great damage to the dwarves of the realm of Mufinthonzyd in the south, and so my brother is glad that you are determined to do the elf-mage harm, and has promised to render what assistance he can. He will be here forthwith, with a Trongthast of stout dwarves, with hammers and axes.”
Not long afterwards, eleven dwarves emerged from the hole. The first to emerge was King Hrammir, who was dressed in a cloak and armour similar to King Klaer’s, and the dwarves that followed wore armour and cloaks also, decorated more sparingly. King Hrammir immediately greeted Hwedolyn and Gwendolyn, saying, “Two gryphons now! Amazing. Greetings! King Klaer has told me everything. Thankyou for bringing him to us – we thought we had lost him, for news reached us of a dead dwarf, in the cloak of King Klaer, but evidently that was a mistake. We will travel the tunnels, and reconnoitre the camp of the elf-mage. I have spies that watch the over-earth, and many of them keep watch on the armies of the Nomoi, for the evil rulers of the Empire represent the greatest danger to the realm of the dwarves.
“This explains how I know that the elf-mage you seek has travelled south and crossed the Iothuiolmae River, and the last that I heard he was encamped perhaps twenty leagues to the west of the town of Mushommyharlae. I think he may be bypassing the town, for he had sent a small force there to commandeer food and supplies for his footsoldiers. I think he will soon be travelling south again.
“The Tharimu Road, which skirts the edge of the wilderness of Rhaglil Mudovar, crosses a stream, or small river, which the locals call the Q’hatolah, at the southern edge of the desert. This bridge is most likely on the route that they plan to take. The desert is more of a salt marsh at that point, but you will see the river from the sky – it would be no more than two yards at its widest point. That is where we will meet you, for we have tunnels and caves that will give us quick passage to that point. It will take barely three days to reach it, and I do not think the elf-mage will have passed that bridge by the time we arrive, for his footsoldiers have been marching many days and need time to rest and recuperate, I would warrant; near a town is the best place for it. They are not unwearying elves as he is.”
After the dwarves had eaten and drunk a quick meal together, which they shared with the gryphons, they returned to the tunnels, except for King Klaer, who the dwarves agreed was to ride Hwedolyn. They decided to wait a short while before setting off, because there were clouds blowing in from the west that would afford excellent cover for the gryphons.
In all this time, Gwendolyn had said little, except to return the greetings of the dwarves, and Hwedolyn started to wonder what she was thinking. He asked her, “What were you thinking about for all this time, Gwendolyn?”
But she said, “Nothing much,” which, for a gryphon, was skirting very close to the edge of the truth. She was actually thinking of the dwarves whom Hwedolyn had involved in his quest and who might well die in order that he could avenge his cousin’s death, and she was wondering if it was all justified.
Soon enough the clouds were overhead, and Hwedolyn and Gwendolyn set off, Hwedolyn bearing King Klaer, who grumbled as he climbed up onto the gryphon’s back – but Gwendolyn noticed King Klaer was actually quite engrossed in watching the scenery below Hwedolyn as they flew up to the clouds. The forest began passing by below them, far below, so that for the eyes of a dwarf the trees and rivers, and the fields of farmland must have looked very tiny.
The afternoon turned to twilight, and the twilight turned to night, and still the gryphons flew. The waxing crescent moon cast a pale glow on the clouds above them. They followed the Iothuiolmae River south, over the horizon, past Chalyom’s eyrie and the hillock on which the dwarf ruins stood, and south to where the river made a large bend to the east. They followed the river, towards the southern edge of the wilderness of Rhaglil Mudovar, where they knew that sulphurous marshes bubbled and boiled, making a thin yellow mist on the horizon. Finally they reached the place where the Q’hatolah brook branched off from the river.
They followed the brook, and with their sharp eyes the gryphons finally saw a stone bridge far below where the Tharimu road crossed the brook. The road stretched north and south as far as the eye could see. They landed on the rocky ground near the bridge. There were many boulders and stones around. “There must be an entrance around here, King Klaer, but I cannot see it,” said Hwedolyn, looking at the boulders.
“Beneath that stone bridge,” said King Klaer. “There have long been rumours of trolls dwelling beneath this bridge, and we dwarves have encouraged those rumours, so that elves and men do not feel like looking too closely beneath the bridge. I shall enter the cave, and wait for my brother dwarves. Unfortunately, the entrance is too small for gryphons.” So they agreed to wait among the rocks and stones, while King Klaer disappeared underneath the bridge.
It was not yet dawn. The clouds above were becoming sparser, and every now and then the burgeoning crescent moon peeped through a crack in the clouds and cast a pale light upon the earth, illuminating the gryphons among the round stones. “Come!” said Gwendolyn, pointing to an outcrop of rocks nearby that were sharp and misshapen, like the beaks and talons of gryphons, with crooked trees growing amongst them, covered with leaves that might well remind one of the feathers on the wings of gryphons. “We would be safer there – we will look to be part of the landscape.”
While the night sky wheeled above them, the gryphons slept amongst the jagged rocks and twisted trees, waiting for the dwarves to arrive.