Hamlet Thriving (Black Lake book 2)

Chapter 3
Eina
~

Braes fidgeted over the plates lined up on the counter. He paused suddenly and tilted his head in concentration, eyes half closed. I have no idea how he could hear anythin’ over the clatter and chatter in the kitchen. A lot of hen mouths workin’ at once. Elven majic, no doubt. Stinkin’ elf.

“What’s wrong, Master Braes?” I asked.

“Sounds like a number of wagons, and a troop of horses.”

“Hm. Visitors and one of the patrols, here to search out goblins, ya think?”

He snapped an angry look up at me. I knew his anger wasn’t for me—my elf friend remains ornery on good days, almost as bad as a garden-variety dwarf. The elf holds mixed emotions over the northern humans’ effort to ensure no goblins intruded into the Range.

Goblins are no friends to elves, but Braes spoke many times durin’ our long winter off-seasons about the strength of our little Hamlet bein’ from the mix of races that populate it. He’s particularly fond of Kelhin and Kincere’s babies. Imagine. An elf godfather to orclings.

“Snow already gettin’ deep in the higher elevations,” I said. “A couple more weeks, the pass will be iced over.”

“Never stopped Bick,” Braes mumbled. “Those short-sighted humans are gonna start another war and we’ll be the first victims.”

His first exaggeration aside, his words were short and clipped, louder than his usual, subdued voice. I studied the elf. He’d never shared that opinion before. But the short little runt does keep his thoughts to himself, a lot like the average stone.

I dried my hands on my apron, untied it and pulled it off. “I’ll be back,” I said.

I strode through the dinin’ room and lobby a little in a daze, some of the elf’s anger thrustin’ down on me, maybe. Outside, the air nipped refreshin’. The breeze comin’ off the Lake kept the humans inside, near the hearth, but there were a couple old, wrinkled trolls sittin’ on the veranda playing checkers. They glanced up, their eyes hidden in the shadows of their floppy hats they use to cut the glare, and gave me a nod.

I walked over to the far side of the veranda and looked east, where visitors would ride out of the forest. Listened, but heard nothin’. Them elves and their ears. I sniffed at the breeze. Don’t know why. It isn’t like I owned an ogre’s sense of smell any more than an elf’s sense of hearin’. We trolls are best suited to handlin’ three-hundred-pound chunks of granite one-handed.

 I turned and strode down the steps and lumbered toward the eastern point of the Lake. My mate stood in our pasture talkin’ with his goats. He joined me. “What ya up to, ya old hen?”

“Braes is worried about folk nearin’ the valley,” I answered.

“Worried? How do ya mean, worried?”

“Ya coot. What part of worried confuses ya?”

“His majic givin’ him a presight or such?”

“Might,” I said. “Or his understandin' of things that fly over our head.”

“He does have a way,” Yoso admitted with a nod, “of figgerin’ thin’s before others do.”

Together we walked in silence for a few moments. A troop of perhaps thirty human riders flowed out of the forest followed by half a dozen wagons. Didn’t look good.

“Doesn’t look good,” Yoso said.

Yoso and I strode toward them. The wagons circled up below the bluff where the Hamlet’s little cemetery plot lies. I recognized the young man who led the contingent. He had been about often the last month or so. A likable sort. Educated. Well spoken. He usually stayed in the Inn, instead of billetin’ with whatever soldiers or deputies he rode with. He didn’t wear either uniform, but always seemed particularly attended to.

The man broke away from the contingent and rode toward us. My nape tingled. Stared at the expression of the man’s horse. The beasts don’t like trolls any more than our kind like horses. The human pulled his mount up as I searched my memory for the lad’s name. Know Braes addressed him in the past. The elf never forgets a name. Stinkin’ elf.

“Good day,” he greeted us. “Getting right chilly up here in the highlands these days. Leaves aren’t even turning yellow back home yet.”

“Won’t, I s’pose, for another month,” Yoso answered him.

The rider smiled. “True. You’re Master Yoso, and Eina, if my memory serves me right.”

Young fellows and their memories. Like to show off.

“That we are,” Yoso said.

“What’s the meanin’ of this?” I demanded, angrier than I intended.

“To the point,” he said. “I like that.”

I figgered he would have introduced himself if I’d given him the opportunity. He was a polite sort, but the interruption, I could see, set him off his stride.

“We’ve decided to build a stockade here, so we can keep a post through the win—”

I interrupted him, the volume of my voice goin’ up inexplicitly. “The Covenant set this region out as a place of peace. You can’t build an edifice of war here!”

Yoso reached out and placed his hand on my arm. I shrugged it off with maybe a tad of troll irritation, and took a step closer to the smilin’ lad and his stinkin’ horse.

“The Covenant also states goblins have no place here,” the man said.

My gut tightened. “Nothin’ but an occasional huntin’ party, south of here. They aren’t botherin’ anyone.”

“Right now it’s hunting parties. Next year they may come in force and try to take the whole Range.”

“If they’re allowed to live freely among us, there will be no hostilities,” I snapped.

“Says you. The human villages to the north are frightened about goblins coming a foot nearer. It isn’t up to you.”

“Yar stockade will only threaten them further, challenge them. If the goblins come, yar lookouts will scurry away for support and leave us to meet angry goblin warriors.” My anger surprised me. Couldn’t even understand where it came from.

“If they come, you’ll be the first in their path,” the man said. “You should appreciate that—”

“Ya fell a single tree and I’ll have three hundred angry trolls here within the hour,” I yelled.

“Hold on, hold on, both of ya,” Yoso said, holdin’ out his hands, as though he was keepin’ the two of us physically apart. “Before we go to war among ourselves—” He turned back to the man. “Meet with representatives of the Hamlet, the dwarf, troll, and ogre councils. We all have a say in this matter.”

“Those who sent me here don’t feel the same way.”

I walked toward the man with my fists raised at my hips and the man’s stallion rose and challenged me. Yoso grabbed me and pulled me back as hooves stamped near-frozen sod.

“If ya don’t want bloodshed today,” I yelled, “Ya better meet us at the Inn in two hours.”

“So be it,” the man said, still tryin’ to calm his mount. If he wasn’t preoccupied, my guess woulda been he woulda declined my invitation—demand.

I swiveled and strode away. Yoso caught up with me a moment later. “What’s gotten into ya, ya old hen? Ya tryin’ to start a war with the humans?”

“I think ya have it backward. It’s the humans who are traipsin’ into our quiet little valley causin’ the ruckus.”

Yoso looked over at me. “That Gladys certainly lit a fire under ya,” he murmured, shakin’ his head. “Big mistake getting’ ya involved with her.”

“Callin’ my best friend in the world a trouble maker?” I asked.

He snorted. Foolish bull.

~

In the past it would have taken days, even weeks, to set up a combined meetin’ between the councils. But with the help of Lucas, Asr, and Torc’s dragons and their siblings, they had all the local representatives sittin’ in the dinin’ hall of the Inn long before the two hours passed.

Everyone sat patiently, mostly starin’ at each other in silence. The human tapped the table from time-to-time with a nervous finger, or jiggled a boot. He looked back and forth at the glum-lookin’ ogres and trolls who sat across from him, and the three white-haired dwarves who sat next to him. He no doubt never imagined he would ever find himself in such a conference.

“What are we waiting for?” the man asked.

“Who,” Braes answered with elven brevity.

“Okay, who are we waiting for?”

The elf glared at the young human. “Another interested party.”

I looked across at Braes, and suddenly misgivin’s accosted me. Was what they planned wise? It wasn’t gonna be well accepted by the dwarves or trolls any more than it would be the humans. They might as well have invited the nasty, ancient dragon queen to nestle into the dinin’ room with us. Like to see her try to fit through the lobby door.

Braes nodded his head, as though he read my mind and replied, “All is well.” I hoped so. To think how peacefully the day started, like any other. Now every bedroom of the Inn was empty, with the guests sittin’ and standin’ about the lobby, watchin’ and waitin’ to see history bein’ made. And I was in the middle of it. Pretty much—initiated it.

My Yoso had disappeared. Coward. Perhaps he went home, since his favorite checker opponent sat two seats away from me. Yoso appeared very agitated to see his one-time mousey-mate drivin’ such a meetin’. Old coot.

The human cleared his throat and pushed his chair back, and crossed his left, booted ankle over his right knee. “So, I understand the Lake will be freezing soon.”

No one chose to join him in conversation. He cleared his throat for the tenth time and studied his hands, which he held in his lap.

A din rose as what seemed like an army of dragons landed in the front lawn. Those sittin’ at the tables stared out the broad windows. But I figgered they all wanted to rush to the windows and stare at the sight as much as I did. It isn’t every day the whole Lake clutch visits the Hamlet together. Everyone not involved with the meetin’ seemed to be talkin’ at once. Who knew how many centuries, even millennia it had been, since dragons participated in talks with the two-legged races. Not that Iza or one of her siblings would actually join us.

The broad front door of the Inn opened and Lucas entered. He waved as though to hurry someone who followed too slowly. It took a moment, and finally a gangly figure stepped through the entrance, bowin’ to get under the tall door built to accommodate trolls. The lobby and dinin’ hall fell silent except for boot heels on the polished hardwood floor. The goblin slowly made his way through the crowd.

Behind me, someone sucked in their breath. I looked over my shoulder at Sylvia. I stole a quick peek at our visitor and back at Sylvia. She and the goblin were clearly smilin’ at each other. The goblin gave the baker a bow, and Sylvia returned it with a nod. That was certainly an interestin’ twist. Where had Sylvia met the goblin? Any goblin? Would be worth many hours of gossipin’ in the kitchen, for sure.

The human from the north stood, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. The dwarf standin' next to him placed his hand subtly on the man’s. “None of that,” he whispered.

Glances turned my way, and my face burned. Were they expectin’ me to lead the delegation? My stomach did a pancake-ish flop. Thankfully, Bick stepped up from behind me, extended his hand to the goblin, and introduced himself. The goblin did the same.

“Maertin,” he said.

Bick introduced each of the others at the table. Steely glares were exchanged all around.

“Eina, ya’re quite the surprise,” the dwarf elder said when the introductions completed. “Never thought I’d face a goblin without wieldin' my axe. Yar surprise dragon rider this mornin’ was a little cryptic as to why I was supposed to trust flyin’ through the sky. Can ya tell me why I’m here, now?”

Interestin’ posturin’. The dwarf is no fool. By now had figgered out every nuance of the current situation.

“We want to keep the peace of the past two centuries,” Braes answered for me.

“Ya elves penned the covenant,” Maertin said, “which exiled us to the eastern desert. Surprised to see ya sittin’ here, expectin’ anythin’ less than status quo.”

“What implies I want anythin’ other than to see ya far away?” Braes answered. Maybe a bit tiffed.

“Why else have ya brought me here? I saw two orcs standin' on the walkway outside. Looks like leeway has already been given to the Covenant.”

The ancient troll leader said, “Enough with the banter.” His deep bellow sounded like the staccato blast of a blacksmith’s hammer. “The humans intend to build a station, stockade, for soldiers here. Do they need to? What is yar intent?”

Nope. We trolls aren’t much for beatin’ around the bush.

The glares around the table turned ice-pick sharp.

“Everyone sit down,” I growled. Maybe knives wouldn’t fly if everyone was sittin’.

The gathered representatives shot glances my way. Surprised smiles crossed a few faces. Those who stood when the goblin entered, sat. Maertin took a chair at the end of the table.

“I’m not a spokesman for all of my people,” Maertin said after several static-filled moments. “Can only speak my own opinions, for my own, small clan.”

“Then do so,” the dwarf leader said.

The goblin gave the dwarf a nod. “At the end of the wars, there were no more than a dozen survivin’ clans. Now there are half that. We were no threat then, at the end of the wars, as everyone is aware, less of one now. If we’d had any leverage, we never would have agreed to the Covenant. But the shrinkin’ resources, plains turnin’ to dunes in the east, strangle us. There are those who would rather raid and die quickly, than die a slow death.”

“Then you believe war is inevitable?” the human challenged him.

“I didn’t say war. But yar marauders have made it plain ya have no intent in allowin’ us to survive.”

“Marauders? They’re patriots protecting their families!”

“Calm yarself,” the dwarf elder growled. He faced Maertin. “I suggest ya both try to be less confrontational. It would do us all good.”

The goblin laughed. It was a higher pitch than I expected, considerin’. Maertin spread his lips displaying his needle-sharp teeth like Pazeta the orc does when she’s comfortable with whomever she’s around. The human squirmed in his chair. Exactly what Pazeta’s smiles cause among human strangers not accustomed to her.

“Master Braes,” the troll elder said softly, “perhaps a glass of that ogre wine ya’re known to serve could take the edge off the tension.”

Braes didn’t have to budge. A dozen of the Inn workers standin’ near the kitchen door and front counter flew to accommodate the troll’s recommendation without waitin’ for Braes’ nod.

“Ya have an efficient staff,” the troll said.

“They’ve made this a home, and make the Hamlet a better place every day,” the elf answered.

Interestin’ thin’ to say. Considerin’.

~

The troll knew more about the ways of all creatures than I expected. The wine enabled casual conversation, the banter the bull called it, which ironically eased the participants at the table into productive words—about four hours of it. Though, I had to glare at the human a dozen times to keep him in line throughout the evenin’, as lanterns were lit to allow the talks to continue.

Braes, in the tradition of the elves who scribed the original Covenant, penned the concessions made. The decisions were nothin’ as monumental as the original, but the new pact sufficed for those at the table, though perhaps the human remained as skeptical as he started. In simple summary, the accord promised to maintain the current peace, while allowin’ all races access to the Range. The human may have seethed on the inside. But he didn’t have much choice, considerin’ he didn’t have a soul on his side.

“All of ya enjoy a warm bed in the Inn tonight, while I draft copies of the agreement for ya to take back to yar councils,” Braes said.

“I cannot guarantee I can sell this to my leaders,” the human said.

“Ya’ve said as much many times,” I snapped. “As a participant, it’s yar job to make it happen. The people most affected by the new Covenant are in agreement.” I pointed a long, bony thumb at the man. Hoped my expression showed I was done with his wishy-washy complaints.

The troll elder grumbled, “If the original writers of the Covenant had ya at their side, Eina, the peace wouldn’t have taken years to agree to.”

“Perhaps it’s as much because the discussion was done in public, as anything else,” one of the Inn’s guests, a human, said behind us.

Nods flowed through the hall. The man who spoke up moved near the table. “I live fifty miles north of here. I’ve heard every word spoken, every word the elf has scribed, and I’m convinced this is good for us all.”

A din erupted with here-heres and other forms of agreement. The human sittin’ at the table, head tilted forward, looked at me. I couldn’t help myself. Finally smiled, perhaps the first time today. Maybe it was the wine. I don’t normally imbibe. And I’d taken more than a few sips to keep from threatenin’ to rip the human’s head from his shoulders.

~