“A rabbit jumped by itself out of the bushes and right onto my sword, all while dancing”, Arthur said amused. “I never thought I could say this sentence and actually make sense.”

“You find this really funny, don’t you?” Nigel put the golden flute back in his belt. “I would like to see you try and play this thing.”

“Come on Nigel, you know I’m tone-deaf. Only a genius such as yourself could learn to play the flute so quickly”, Arthur smiled.

Nigel sighed. “Now you are flattering me… How low of you.” The two of them had been sent to hunt in the forest next to the road by the General when he saw their supplies were running low. Fortunately, Miss Nan happened to know a little something about music and had taught Nigel the basics, so now he could control little forest animals like rabbits. It made hunting, as well as Arthur’s life, a lot easier.

“We have enough for two full meals”, announced Arthur when they reached the others. “Nigel is good with his stuff.”

“Good, I was getting hungry. Roast them already!” laughed the General. “We’re far enough from the post that we won’t be seen.” They had crossed the borders a while ago, and quite easily at that. Since they had no wagons, they just went straight through the mountainside, unseen by the guards. Some hours ago, they had also bypassed a dwarven guard post, stationed on the road in the middle of the forest. They were now less than three days away from the mountain where Olympus, the dwarven capital, lay.

Although, Nigel’s mind churned as he sat next to the fire, the truth was that he didn't really understand how his flute worked. He just played a random, simple tune he had been taught by Miss Nan, and animals came running. Was that the result of the specific tune or was it because that was what he desired to happen? He had tried to experiment, but Miss Nan didn't know any other melodies, and just playing random notes didn't seem to have any effect.

It was getting dark at this point, and Nigel was examining his flute in the light of the fire. He traced the carvings on one side of it with his fingers. The dancing tongues of flame created flickering shadows on the flute, making the carvings seem as if they were alive. Elves, humans, dwarves... all kinds of beings were there. Was the boatman telling the truth, or was it all just a legend? Will I end up like that too if I somehow can't control the flute? he wondered.

According to the General, the town was built many years ago in the middle of a great mountain range, so that it stood above all other cities anywhere in the Land of the Six Kingdoms. Its defense was almost absolute, since the only way into the city was a huge city-controlled gate. All other routes were blocked by the mountains. That, along with the environmental circumstances, was also the reason why there were almost no foreigners in the city, merchants, or anyone else. Overall, it was a city built for war, not peace.

The journey to Olympus wasn’t easy. Miss Nan, who couldn’t withstand either the cold wind of the mountains or the exhausting climbing, was being carried by her husband. The plan was to transport her in the wagon, but that had been left behind. They were also planning to spend some time in the warmth of the wagons themselves, but that was out of the question too.

As they were walking on the mountain road, they couldn't help but look downward. It was truly a breathtaking sight. Valleys and forests, rivers and lakes spread out as far as the eye could see, almost untouched by man in their virgin beauty. There were small clouds in the sky, allowing the light of the sun to shine on the clear waters. Gusts of wind would make the grass move in waves, as if it was waving at them from down below.

At the foot of the mountain was a small valley, with another dwarven town at its one end. Unlike Olympus, this was one of the biggest trade centers in the whole kingdom; Braidstoh.

The magnificent view of the valley below didn’t help them withstand the cold, but it did make their trip more bearable.

Eventually, frozen to the bone and exhausted, they reached the gate of Olympus. Two tall watchtowers loomed above them, along with a gate that seemed like another mountain, but they only paid attention to the warmth that was coming from the watchtowers. As soon as the gate opened a little, they slipped in and invaded one of them, lying around the fire in hopes of regaining feeling in their frozen limbs. The guards, understanding their condition, let them do what they wanted; they just applied a special ointment on their fingers to prevent frostbites and showed them to a few beds. It wasn’t until after they woke up that they could think clearly again.

Arthur and Nigel had woken up together, and they saw two short creatures in their room. While traveling through dwarven territory, they hadn’t had the chance to meet any dwarves. Short but muscular, armed with clubs and hammers rather than swords and with, relatively for their size, long beards hanging from their chins, these guards were the first dwarves they saw.

They had small hats with horns on them but, since they weren’t wearing them inside the watchtower, their bald heads were clearly visible. They also had big, red noses and eyebrows like brushes, a mouth that couldn’t be seen under their bushy mustache, and eyes that were big and full of joy.

More guards came into the room after hearing about the strange humans waking up, and the humans found out that only the two guards they had first encountered were bald. The others had lots of hair under their hats, red, brown, and blond, tied in strange hairstyles that looked as if they had been weaved rather than sheared. The dwarves gathered around them like children about to hear a fairy tale and started asking them about all sorts of things. “How far away did you come from?”, “What are your names?”, “How old are you?”, “Do humans poop?” and many others. Some, who had seen humans before, stayed further behind, smiling at their brethren’s curiosity.

“Make way, make way.” A younger dwarf, followed by another dwarf who was wearing a fur coat instead of armor, entered the watchtower. Panting, the official-looking dwarf began to recite his words.

“On behalf of the High dwarven King, His Majesty Thumer the Ironshield,” here he paused in an effort to regain his breath, “I welcome you to Olympus, the dwarven capital, and promise you a peaceful stay. We invite you to stay at the palace as guests of the King and enjoy what our city has to offer.”

“Don’t be so serious, Dulin, you will bore their asses off.”

It was the laughing voice of one of the guards, probably the head guard.

“These two need to be handled with the proper respect. Don’t tell me how to do my job”, the coated dwarf mouthed him off. It was then that Arthur and Nigel realized they were alone with the dwarves. Apparently, everyone else had woken up earlier.

“Hey, where are the others?” asked Nigel, scared of being left alone in an unknown place.

“They are already in the palace, under the care of our King. You should come too”. The formally dressed dwarf smiled, but his smile had no warmth.

“We are not going anywhere until we meet our companions”, was the answer he got.

“Now, listen here, son.” The head guard who appeared to dislike the dwarf named Dulin intervened, clearly upset. “You can be anxious, but don’t insult the dwarves. No dwarf would ever trick a guest, I swear on me head!”

His bald head was sweating, his hands were moving frantically and his loud voice had startled the other dwarves. Boy, did that escalate quickly, thought Arthur.

“Forgive my friend, he is confused by the cold, you see”, he intervened. “We have come a long way to meet your King. Can you take us to the palace, please?” he turned to Dulin, who smiled as if there had been no doubt in his mind about the conclusion of this conversation. “Very well”, he replied. “Follow me.”

Making their way to the palace through the town covered in snow, the humans attracted the attention of many bystanders. Crowds were formed around them on more than one occasion, and a few dedicated dwarves followed them all the way to the palace. But the humans too were keen on watching the dwarves who lived on the top of the mountain.

In a sense, they could understand the dwarves better than the dwarves could understand them because, while the dwarves saw a couple of anxious youngsters, Arthur and Nigel were able to watch a whole town lead their lives as they usually did. Besides their appearance and clothes, the dwarves weren’t really different from humans, at least visually. They had the same jobs, made the same jokes. It was morning, and the dwarves going to work were just as grumpy as their human counterparts.

Busy as they were observing the inhabitants of the city, they didn’t see much of the city itself. They noticed narrow, winding alleys stretching behind and around buildings, along with the steep roads that went up and down the mountain. The houses were small and built with stone, and they all had a nasty brown-red color, sometimes clinging to black instead.

They imagined the city in the winter, when snow would cover every road and movement would be difficult. At that time, the houses would stand out from the white scenery, making it seem as if the top of the mountain, where the palace lied, was wearing a coal crown, fit for a town of fire-loving, bizarre creatures.

Only when they reached the plateau at the top of the mountain, where the entrance to the palace was located, did they see the town in its entirety. Stretching below their feet was a maze of paths and moving bodies, as the city was brimming with life that seemed too energetic for the harsh conditions that surrounded it.

A small city, though. It was a day without many clouds, and from where they stood they could easily make out its borders. Down below, at the foot of the mountain, stacked within a narrow valley, was another dwarven city, Braidstoh. In the distance, a big river could be seen slipping through the forest, splitting it in half. The view was spectacular.

“This way, please.” Dulin the dwarf was waiting in front of a big iron door that may have been the entrance to the palace. Looking up, they saw that the palace was quite scrawny, only a miniature of what they thought it would look like. They sighed in disappointment. They expected more from the dwarves, especially given their famous love for epicness.

“What are you sighing about?”, said Dulin when he saw their faces. “This is just the entrance.” They only realized what he was talking about when they ventured inside the palace. What he called “entrance” was the whole building they had seen before.

The actual palace stretched below the ground, inside the mountain, along with a significant portion of the city. The part of the city that was above the ground, exposed to extreme environmental conditions, was about half than what lied underneath it. Later on, they realized that what seemed like houses above ground were actually just entrances to the main city below them.

The underground palace, as well as its surface counterpart, was made almost entirely out of stone. The difference was that, unlike the one above the ground, the underground part of the palace was only lit with torches. No sunlight reached underground, even on the brightest of days. Therefore, it was always dark down there, and the moisture of the air was making their clothes wet.

“What a gloomy place”, sighed Nigel. “How can you live in here?”

“Oh, we dwarves are used to this. We were living here long before the grandparents of your grandparents were born”, replied Dulin and laughed.

“You are weird”, said Nigel. “You live underground in a place like this and, at the same time, you live on top of a tall mountain. You are short, and yet your houses stand above and below all others.”

Dulin slowed his pace a little, and then he smiled, talking like a teacher about to give a lesson. “How much do you know about the history of the five races, young men?” he asked.

“Humans don’t really value knowledge, at least not in the places where we live. Muscles on your arms are considered better than muscles between your ears”, Nigel answered reluctantly.