"Peace, and well met." Gawain responded, again.
"That arrow you hold tells a different story."
"Your axe is also eloquent, friend."
"I am Rak, of Tarn, in the kingdom of Threlland. Which you call the Black Hills."
"Well met then, Rak of Tarn. I am Traveller. I can claim no birthright, nor homeland, but am recently of Callodon, and Juria, and Elvendere. I ride north-east, to your homeland, by way of Mornland's northern way."
"You go to Threlland? Why?"
Gawain smiled, unstrung his arrow and slipped it back into its quiver. "To see dwarves. But you have spared me the journey, friend Rak."
Weapons were lowered, though not abandoned, but Gawain and Gwyn were both relieved to see his smile returned.
"Step down then, Traveller, and take a closer look at what you seek on such a cold winter's night."
Gawain slipped from the saddle and walked the few paces to Rak, and then extended his arm. Rak paused a moment, staring hard up into Gawain's eyes, and then seemingly satisfied, extended his own.
"Well met Traveller. If it's true you're recently of Elvendere, then you're the first human I've met able to make that claim."
"It's true, though I was hardly a guest in their land."
"Few are. They are a suspicious lot, those elves, and keep themselves to themselves."
Gawain grinned in spite of himself. "I've heard much the same thing."
Rak smiled, a brief flicker of humour, before stepping to one side and holding out his hand towards the fire. "Will you warm yourself, and eat with us?"
"Thank you," Gawain sighed, "In truth I would not have disturbed your peace, but for the smell of roasting beef which I could not resist."
More laughter, releasing the pent-up tension, and the whole group moved closer to the fire while one of the women fetched a plate, and cut a hunk from the roasting meat before offering it to Gawain.
"Eat your fill, Traveller, we've already supped and there's more than enough."
"I thank you. As hungry as I've been for such fare, I am but one man, and could not slaughter a steer simply for myself. Such waste would be crime."
"Aye. They may travel light and fast who go alone, but there are advantages in company."
While Gawain ate, Rak introduced his friends. They were merchants, mostly, though Gawain understood that Rak himself was something of an ambassador, or emissary, and therefore had some high standing in both Mornland and Juria. His wife, Merrin, was travelling with him, and it was she who was expecting their first-born.
"For some time we have lived at court in Juria," Rak explained, "But my lady Merrin wishes our child to be born at home in Tarn, and thus we travel in caravan with these noble merchants."
Gawain understood, and remembering his own home, shivered a little in spite of the warmth from the fire.
"Have some Jurian brandy," Rak offered a familiar bottle, "It'll warm you better than any fire."
Gawain accepted with thanks, and revelled in the sudden glow that coursed through his veins by the time he'd handed the bottle back. Then he smiled.
"You've not had it before?" Rak looked surprised.
"Oh yes," Gawain stared into the fire, "I was remembering my encounter with the elves. It was a cold night, though warmer than this…"
And so he told them the story of his meeting with Elayeen, and Gan. They listened attentively and appreciatively, for although the night was pitch black it was still too early for sleep.
When he'd finished, Rak shook his head in wonder. "I've seen elves twice before. Both times at court. Once in Juria, and once in Mornland. Both times we invited them to Threlland, but both times they declined. Now that the cursed Ramoths are wandering the land, I'd be surprised to see any more. Elves want nothing to do with the other races of man and if they know of the Ramoths, then they'll shut themselves in their forest and not venture out for a hundred years."
"The Ramoths have made their way into the Black Hills?" Gawain asked.
"Everywhere, it seems. Sometimes I wish we dwarves could be more elvish in our ways."
"Are there many followers then, in your land?"
"No!" Rak looked horrified. "We may not be as elvish as the elves, but we don't take too kindly to strangers strolling in and building high towers all over the place. A man such as yourself is about the highest we care to look up to, for the sake of our necks."
Some of the other dwarves chuckled, and Gawain smiled. Elayeen would be a good three or four inches taller than Rak, and the top of her head would barely reach his shoulder.
"Our wizards advised his majesty to tolerate their presence," Rak continued, "And not to offend this creature Ramoth and the dark wizard Morloch. But the day these shave-head chanting imbeciles count a crowd of dwarves among their number is the day the Dragon's Teeth fall and Ramoth himself darkens the sun!"
Gawain nodded. "I first saw them in Callodon, heading south towards Raheen."
"They'll get short shrift there, I daresay. The Raheen may be aloof, and look down on us all from their lofty perch, but they're a good people, and their king is not one who'll readily allow Ramoths to taint his lands."
"You know the Raheen?” Gawain asked, trying to contain the sudden beating of his heart at the mention of his homeland from this broad-shouldered yet thoughtful man.
"Aye. My father took me once, and I actually stood in the Great Hall there. I was young then, perhaps four or five. It was after the Pellarn war, before that great western kingdom was swallowed up by the Gorian Empire. I saw Davyd of Raheen, though of course I never spoke with him. I met Brock of Callodon there too, though that was before his father died and he ascended to Callodon's throne."
Gawain desperately tried to remember, but it was hopeless. Rak was a good two or three years older than himself, and so Gawain would likely have been a mere infant when these events occurred.
"I did not know that dwarves had visited so far south."
"Oh yes, we get around here and there. Back then, when Pellarn was overrun by the Gorian praetorians, Raheen and Callodon gave as much aid as they could to keep Pellarn free of the imperial yoke. When the kingdom fell, it was Raheen and Callodon held the border, and stopped the Gorian advance.
"For some time afterwards Davyd of Raheen tried to unite the seven kingdoms, to form an alliance which would support each other, to keep the empire at bay."
"It failed."
"Aye. The elves were content within their great forest, for one thing. They seem to think nothing can get in or out of there without their express permission. Threlland sent my father as ambassador to Raheen to pledge dwarvish support, but we're so far away there was little we could do. Without Juria's consent, and Mornland's too, we could not send military aid across those borders and down into Callodon.
"Eventually the wizards announced that they'd read their great prophecies, consulted the stars, and generally mumbled in their damned white beards and come to the conclusion that the empire would advance no further. So Davyd's attempts at alliance simply waned, and nothing came of it.
"But I did stand in the Great Hall, and I did see him, and young prince Brock of Callodon. It was then that I decided I would follow in my father's footsteps. There is a whole world, and Threlland is but a small part of it. We must none of us become so elvish that we turn our backs on our neighbours."
Nods of agreement from the merchants mimicked Gawain's own, and he found himself drawn to this strange man. A dwarf, yes, powerfully built and doubtless more than able to wield that battle-axe of his to great and deadly effect, but a diplomat too, and surprisingly forthcoming for a member of a race considered by all others to be 'a suspicious lot'.