Dear Mark,

How are you, you arse? Safe and sound I trust. Remember what I asked you about Amelia. If you see Gerret come near her while I’m gone, you let me know. Feel free to pummel him yourself if the mood takes you.

Anyway, do you remember what we talked about before I left? The chat about dwarven women? Well you can tell Hary he’s a bloody idiot because they do exist. Where did he think baby dwarves came from? I guess we was all idiots because none of them have beards like we said. They’re actually prettier than I expected. They’re short, obviously, and a bit on the plump side. But pretty. Full faces, and considerable proportions if you catch my drift. I’ve included a drawing of one in case you find it hard to imagine.

Anyway, hope everything on the farm is alright,

Yarv

Another Letter Home – Yarvin Haywell

The morning keeper’s bells woke Franco. The scent of citrus stirred him; enjoyable memories from the night before followed by troubling thoughts about the day ahead. He rolled over but the bed was empty save for an indent, Rosie’s scent and a choice item from her smallclothes. Franco lumbered up and out of the bed, washed and dressed. He grabbed a greasy breakfast downstairs and made his way out into the city proper. Before leaving he took from the room a pouch with some of his money in it and he carried his hammer in its frog-loop more out of habit than any other reason. This time in the morning the streets and tunnel-ways were bustling. Everybody had somewhere to be, something to buy, something to sell, work to do. In this part of the city, away from the market, almost all folk were dwarves. The merchants and outsiders didn’t often venture very deep into the mountain city. They were welcome enough to, he thought, but they rarely did. Franco couldn’t think about all that for long. He couldn’t think about anything without his mind running back to the night previous. It was all he could hope for that nothing more would come from his perhaps unwise tryst.

He was wrong. He was not even half way to the square in which he had arranged to meet Kherrin and a frightened Odi found him.

“You’re in trouble, mate.”

“Rosie?”

“Rosie.”

Franco cursed under his breath. Odi shook his head.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot.”

Franco looked to his breathless friend. “Aye, I suppose I am.”

“What were ye thinking?”

“I wasn’t.”

There was a pause while Odi caught his breath.

“What’s the nature of the trouble I’m in?”

“The fiancé.”

“Oh.”

“The same fiancé who’s a sergeant in the guard.”

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed, ye gobshite. He’s a popular man around these parts. Word is he has the lads out lookin’ for the despot whose despoiled his love.”

Despite the seriousness of his situation, Franco had to laugh at that.

“Despoiled? Rosie? He has met her, I hope? She was despoiled long before she set her sights on poor me, I can tell ye that for a certainty.”

“Regardless of who despoiled who, we need to get ye out of the city. Quick-like.”

“I need to meet a friend of mine. The dwarf from the smithy. Kherrin.”

“Where is he?”

“Hane’s Square.”

“No chance. Bori Clagch will have eyes there for certain. That’s his name by the way. Bori.”

“Strange. Rosie never told me his name.”

“Very funny,” Odi said, his tone as dry as a bowl of sand.

“We better get back to the Crossed Antlers. I feel like I might be needing my armour soon enough.”

“No chance. Bori knows where you’re staying. You’re lucky you rise early. Otherwise they’d have caught you with yer breeches down.”

“I feel lucky. So, what’s the plan?”

“Well, yer friend Odi is going to take care of ye, o’ course.”

“I don’t deserve you” Franco said. There was humour in his voice, but the words were true enough.

“You certainly don’t. Now don’t get soppy on me. We’ll make for my place via the tunnel-ways.”

The pair walked briskly, heads down, onto a less crowded street. Then they ducked into a vacant tunnel-way, then through to another, and then another. If Odi knew one thing, it was the streets and tunnels of Caghdun.

“You know this isn’t the first time that minx has gotten me in trouble.”

“No?”

“Aye. Why do you think I left in such a hurry last time I was here?”

Odi chuckled. “That was her?”

“Oh yes. She has quite an appetite, that one. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with that. If it’s he-dwarves she desires, he-dwarves she can have. It’s the he-dwarves who are the problem, in fact.”

“Enlighten me,” Odi said, his voice dry again.

“I know Rosie; she isn’t the settling type. She likes to move on. Not a problem for me, I understood that and moved on myself. But most fellas aren’t so understanding. They see her with another dwarf and think someone is taking what’s theirs. They get jealous, you know.”

“Isn’t that the normal way to feel?”

“Perhaps. It’s in our nature as he-dwarves, I suppose. But if they want someone they can call theirs, they should look for someone who wants to own them back. Belong to one another, you know? Instead of getting angry and trying to kill me.”

“But you’re forgetting; Rosie’s engaged.”

“Aye, ye have the right of it. But engagements can be broken. If I were Bori, I know who I’d be more angry with now. He should be looking to get his ring back instead o’ hunting my sorry arse. And Rosie isn’t blameless in this” Franco concluded, raising a finger in gesticulation. "It was fine when she was single, but once she’d said “yes” she should have left all that behind.”

Odi shot a critical look at his friend.

“Franco, far be it for me to judge you, but aren’t you the one she slept with? Are you not also a malefactor in this scenario?”

“Well, yes. That goes without saying.”

“And ye have nothing to say on that matter?”

“Not really, no.”

“O’ course ye don’t. Franco, I do miss our little talks when yer gone. I miss yer, uh… Unique perspicacity.”

The two emerged through a back entrance to a residential area; a subterranean cul-de-sac. Being in an underground Dwarven city, it was oftentimes difficult to identify buildings from the outside, as they weren’t strictly buildings. Most closer resembled a series of interconnecting chambers carved out from the tunnels outside. But this was a wealthy neighbourhood, and the “houses” each featured separate facades coming close to the appearance of independent structures. One of those was the Thatts residence; Odi’s family home.

“Remind me what we’re doing at your place?” Franco asked.

“Getting you out o’ the city.”

“Aye, I remember that part. Except I don’t reckon we could be further from Bardun’s Gate.”

“Hush and get inside.”

It had to be said that Odi had an inviting home. House-proud Franco had always called him, and the place was immaculate. The antechamber was large, befitting a family of the Thatt’s standing, and in every corner standing lamps with fitted mirrors burned bright, illuminating every corner. As they made their way through the household Franco noted that much of the furniture was imported, likely a premeditated choice meant to impress visitors.

Flimsy rubbish.

There was Dwarven furniture too; quality, sturdy pieces of wrought Dwarven alloys of varying metallic hues. Franco was even impressed by a couple of traditional stone pieces that looked to be the work of a real craftsman.

“Franco, you know as well as I do the two entrances thing is bollocks. This mountain is an ant’s nest. Not even the Archon knows how many passes there are exactly. Magi alone could count them all. Everyone with money has their own postern tunnel.”

Franco followed his friend along a side-passage, down a flight of stairs and into – what was ostensibly – a storage room.

“And it just so happens, your family has quite a lot of money.”

Odi smiled. “Exactly.”

He swung open a wardrobe door, proceeded to remove a wooden beam in the rear and slide the back-panel aside. Behind it was a locked iron grate. Odi slipped a ring of keys from a coat pocket and began perusing them.

“You are a dwarf of many surprises.” Franco commented.

Odi pointed at him with a small key and grinned. “And don’t ye forget it.”

The two clambered into the pitch-black tunnel behind the wardrobe and followed it. No torches, sconces or lanterns lit the way, and the tunnel wasn’t even walled with worked stone. The passage might well have been carved out by pickaxe and left that way. The only furnishing differentiating the passage from a cheap mine were a series of iron gates built into the tunnel. For each and every checkpoint Odi had a separate key. Eventually they came to the end of the tunnel, a stone wall identical to those lining either side.

“A dead end.”

“That’s what you’re supposed to think. Put yer fingers in yer ears.”

“Ye can’t be serious.”

One flinty look from Odi and Franco did as he was told. His friend made some incantation, inaudible to Franco, and the stone wall cracked in the middle.

The crack split the wall in two, widened and shook the ground as the whole thing opened in front of them. As the stone walls parted, daylight flooded into the tunnel, momentarily blinding the two dwarves. Beyond the gateway a vista emerged. High above where trees could take root, there existed an uninterrupted view of leagues of morning sky with sloping rocky valleys rolling downward as moss and mountain grasses were taken over by a thick carpeting of northern forest and, beyond that, the sea.

“Breath-taking. Where in bugger are we?”

“North-East slope. Franco, this is where we must part ways.”

“Aye. Thanks for everything, mate.”

“You’re most welcome.”

“Can you pass on a message to my friend, Kherrin? Tell him why I had to leave so suddenly. And if you can get into my room, my armour and my pack…”

“Of course, I’ll hang on to them for ye.”

“Thanks. I suppose I’d better get going.”

Odi nodded, whispered another few words to the rocks and the stone shifted again, closing slowly behind Franco. He took a deep breath of pristine mountain air and spent another few moments enjoying the view from his high perch. He had only his war-hammer, a small pouch of coins and a pair of Rosie’s underwear to his name.

Well, best be off.