Chapter Text
Khazâd! Khazâd! and Khazâd ai-mênu!
The fourth dawn came as quickly as the third night had fallen. It felt to her tired eyes as if she had just settled down for the night only to be roused by large hands gently shaking her to wakefulness. Like the days before, the morning dew clung to wild grasses, and thin, see-through mists hung over the land and stayed settled in their place until the sun would chase them away. ‘Dew smells sweet,’ she thought. Rubbing away the sleep from her eyes, her lungs ached for want of oxygen. Yawning loudly, a grumble-turned-whine rises from her chest as her arms stretch overhead. It sounded soft to her ears, though the sounds of the dwarves chuckling brought her back down to reality. An embarrassed flush rose to her face.
{“Heh, g’morning.”} The words came easily from her mouth, though she knew they couldn’t understand one another. It didn't hurt to try communicating, it was always funny seeing Karin trying his best to decipher her words. Most of the time he would nod his head and press one of his great hands to her shoulder briefly before moving on and doing whatever he felt was necessary at the moment.
Turning her eyes downwards and at attention. She scanned lazily back around the ground around her bedroll. The damp soil, to her surprise, even smelled good. ‘Rich,’ she thought. Patting with one hand at the dirt and running her fingers along some nearby dry grasses. Pulling her hand back to the safety of her chest, water droplets and some stinking strands of vegetation stick to the skin her palm. Swallowing, saliva welled in her mouth just under her tongue- 'I'm thirsty' she noted. A deep curiosity spurred her on to collect as much moisture as she could before bringing her dirt-stained fingers to her lips.
Hesitating briefly before licking at her fingers, she sputtered when a stray blade of grass tickled the inside of her mouth and upper lip. {“Ack-ah-blah!”} Teor guffawed loudly. No doubt scaring away any wildlife that might have been lingering nearby.
{“Oh god, it’s in my mouth.”}
His great beard swayed as his tummy jiggled from his booming laughter. His strong fingers were already rubbing together to bring some life back into his chilled flesh.
{“Not funny, asshole.”} She grumbled as she mimicked his hand motions. She could feel eyes watching her from across the cold fire pit. Turning her gaze, brown eyes met blue as she stared at Farin. His arms were crossed, a small bundle of sticks clutched in one hand as his other hand rested on the opposite bicep. Ducking her head and giving a small nod, she smiled when he mirrored her gesture.
{ “Are you making a fire for our breakfast?”} He smiled wider and nodded when she gestured to the pit. From the corner of her eyes, she saw movement.
Turning her head, the sight of Karin shuffling closer with a small round stone caught her eye. ‘Oh, cooking now, are we?’ Her eyes twinkled with interest as she watched Farin and Karin talk for a bit before Farin slowly started with building up the fire.
{“Morning,”} she offered again, English already sounding strange to her ears. Her voice was softer this time, though more certain. The sound of her own voice felt strange, almost foreign in her mouth after the dryness and dust of the past days. ‘I’m probably the only one here who speaks English.’ She thought. The idea of these men being hardcore LARPers died the second she saw their weapons. Only happy at first to have some water and food. The more she watched them, the more they didn’t seem to be the average Joe. The height is the main giveaway. ‘No way these guys are normal.’ And ‘I was so wrong’ flitted by in her head. One by one, the others readied themselves for breakfast to prepare for another day of walking.
Karin chuffed, the sound grating to her ears as she watched him place strange plants on the slab. Groans of stiff muscles and empty bellies ravaged the camp as the others made their way to sit around the fire. Its warmth was very welcome; the flames, as small as they were, made the morning chill creep away. Taking her time to look around at the five; they looked tired. Old, worn, hungry. They had grown leaner, she noted. Travel had a way of making one lose flesh and muscle with lack of food and long hours on foot. Already the food stores have dwindled to a measly roll of bread, a few strips of dried meat, and whatever edible plants they had come across. Which today was what breakfast seemed to be. Teor, who was seated next to Farin, lifted his chin slightly just to peek over the small twisting flames of the fire. Catching his gaze, she could see how his eyes lingered about her face before dropping to her ankle. Feeling self-conscious, the urge to tuck her bad ankle under her good one was overwhelming.
"Ithron dârr." He said as she watched him nudge Farin’s elbow. Farin didn’t reply but nodded softly.
Barik—she had gathered what their names are early on. Each one having shouted it more than once in the dark of night when they would tell what she assumed were tall tales in the fire’s glow. Barrick was muttering, this thick beard moving with each syllable he uttered. The words were low, strange, and graveled. They held no real meaning to her, but to the others he looked like he must be saying something important, judging by how they turned to face him when he spoke.
“Uzgul khazâd mân nufûd gân gâd,” he said. “Gundak nash, imbi drigion na al.”
“Uznârak eldar,” Karin added dryly.
{"Carik, what are you making? Looks gross."}
Giggling, small and soft at their funny words. Their eyes that were once focused on each other now shifted back to her. Pulling Carik’s coat about her shoulders a smidge tighter. A strand of hair fell to her face when the gentle breeze rolled by. The dry ends shimmered like spun copper in the morning light. Tucking it back behind a pointed ear. She watched as Carik shifted, switching his seat and making his way to sit close by her side. Gesturing with a great meaty hand, he swiped a small stalk of warmed roots with surprisingly dexterous fingers and offered it to her with a cheeky grin.
“akâl” Blinking blankly, she reached out to take the offered morsel, but he did not relinquish it.
“Akâl,” he said once more. This time gesturing to his mouth and miming eating something.
Pausing when her furrowed brows finally relaxed. He gestured this time to her, his fingers hovering lightly over his chest before pointing at her mouth.
{“You want me to speak?”} A flurry of mirth bubbled in her chest. {“I can’t! I can’t sound like you. It’s silly.”}
Carik smiled, seeing how a smirk twisted at the corners of her lips. - In his eyes, there was a look of expectation. He gestured once more. Watching the dangling root flesh cooling in his hands. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of eating more cold food.
{"Fine, don't laugh at me. Okay?"}
“Ah-kall,” she relented; the smile that painted Carik’s face at her poor attempt at communication was near blinding.
Karin barked a laugh, a rich, rolling sound that filled the clearing and startled a few birds from the trees. She found herself laughing too, weakly at first, then freely, the sound rasping from a throat still too dry. It had been so long since she’d laughed with anyone. The warmth that followed it was almost dizzying. A roar of laughter shook the earth as Teor clapped his hand to his knee. Barik smirked, though he tried to hide it behind his beard and crossed arms. Farin gave a faint shake of his head as if to say, "Foolish," but his smile gave him away.
It was all so familiar and different. The joking and laughter. ‘Like a family reunion,’ she thought. Flickers of what might have once been flashed in her mind. Names and faces of people too fuzzy to make out in her mind’s eye. Immediately her heart ached, and her smile fell as homesickness settled in her lower belly like a lead weight. As if sensing her unease, Karin wordlessly tore off a chunk of bread that he had been given as part of his rations. Holding it out for her to grasp just over the flames, she reached out for both the warm root flesh and the bread with eager palms. Sniffing at her quarry first, the hope of it tasting better than it looked and smelled weighed heavily in the forefront of her mind. ‘Here goes nothing’ was the only sound ringing in her head as she chewed silently. ‘Bitter.’ The taste was similar to that of a radish or a turnip. The bread had gone a tad stale. She wanted to ask where they were from. What sort of lives did they have when not on the road? She wanted to ask if they ever missed their homes. Maybe if they felt the same way about how she missed her home.
The chatter around the fire has quieted down to comfortable murmurs. Deep and low they rumbled in that strange tongue of theirs. The words sounded like a strange sort of Norse language. The thought of Vikings quickly sprung to mind. Watching their bearded faces from over the fire, deep wrinkles creased under and around their eyes, their crow’s feet showcasing years of past merriment. She wondered what they were like in their homes, what their homes were like, where they lived, and what they did for work. ‘Maybe they all live together somewhere?’ A small smile laced her lips as the mental image of the five of them all sharing some sort of house. ‘Maybe they live in mountains just like the books?’ She could remember lying in a warm embrace as a child, being lulled into sleep with old stories that spoke of fantastical beings and magical places. ‘Maybe my mother was reading me stories.’ It hurt all the more when even now the face in her memory was hazy.
{“Never went camping, but I like the idea of it.”} The urge to make some sort of conversation swelled. But what conversations could be had with such a vast gap in languages. {"Would have liked to have the chance to camp back home."}
Wiping her nose with her wrist, with a glance she caught the tail end of Farin copying her motion. He winked when their eyes met. It was frightfully easy to imagine him situated better in a kitchen of some sort. Turning to look at Carin, she could picture him sitting at a workbench carving up some small trinkets meant to be useful or some small children’s toys. ‘Karin would be a great leader or something. A manager, maybe?’ she thought of what she didn’t know. Teor… Teor was just Teor. If anything, he felt more like a father or uncle figure than anything else. Staring just off into space, her vision blurred around the edges. For the first time since waking up alone on the beach, the idea of staying didn’t feel so bad. ‘Maybe when we reach wherever we’re going, they will let me stay with them. I can be useful.’ Though carrying small sticks and eating more than her fair share of the rations wasn’t useful in the slightest. Giggling to herself, she quietly chewed at the food in her mouth before swallowing it down with great effort. It wasn’t bad…but it was far from being good.
“Mmmmm.” The urge to overplay the taste of the offered food was strong. ‘They had given up so much to ensure that I get some food. I have to show that I appreciate it.’ Chewing thoughtfully, she paused, with a small smile, and gave them a thumbs-up.
The confused look on Karin’s face made her almost spit out food laughing. Barik snorted at the two as he watched a look of understanding dawn on Karin’s face. After eating as much as her conscience would allow, for the shortage of food weighed heavily in the minds of all those present. She forced herself to smile at each dwarf. Genuine gratitude shimmered in her eyes at the warmth they all returned in their gazes. ‘They are running low on food. We can’t live on plants forever.’ A small shift ruptured her thoughts.
The once cozy morning breakfast turned hushed, quiet, and still. Barik raised one of his hands by his face, fingers clenched into a tight fist. Even without knowing its meaning, her hands made their way to cover her lips to muffle any sounds that might spill forth from her lips. Something was terribly wrong. Watching with bated breath, a small jolt runs down her spine when Barik quickly rises to his feet, the others following suit. Teor's first move was to stomp out the fire, the small clasps on his boots tinkling gently in the silence. Small embers from the swiftly extinguished fire threatened to spark out and burn her sensitive skin.
Gaping like a fish, A small squeak of alarm bubbles from her throat when two large arms suddenly wrap around her middle and set her up on unsteady, wobbly feet. Remembering to stay silent, the sound dies on her lips when steel eyes lock with hers: Carik. ‘Silence,’ she remembers. ‘I must stay silent.’ Trembling, she followed Carik’s motions of making up their packs and preparing to leave the campsite. Carik’s hands were firm, practiced in a way that felt as if he had done something like this before. The pressure of his hands felt heavy; she could feel him trembling.
{“What’s happening? What’s going on?”} Even with as hushed a voice as she could muster, all she was given in turn was a glare that made the blood in her veins turn to ice.
Shoving a bedroll into her arms, they worked silently. With his hands moving with ease while hers moved clumsily. Cursing lowly under his breath. He shoved her aside and took charge of packing. Every motion they did was like a well-oiled machine. Precise and efficient, whatever was happening, it was bad. Farin kicked loose dirt over the remnants of the fire while Teor was already moving for his axe. His mighty shoulders shifting under the strain of the weight of his axe and the fierce need to protect. Its sharp edge flashed briefly in the light. Being shoved once more, they drew into a tight circle with her at its center.
“Akhîrân!” Swallowing hard, blood rushed in her ears. Wishing with all her might that she could understand what was being said. Under normal circumstances the dwarves sounded intimidating within their own right, but now. On edge and ready for anything, they sounded sharper, sharp as flint and cold as ice. It terrified her to her core. There was nothing. Not even the sound of a cricket or bird. Standing still, they waited, arms raised and expectant for what she did not know. For the longest time they just stood, hearts racing.
“Bëran.” Whispered Farin.
There was no warning.
No sound of trumpets or bugles, no growls or cries for blood. There was just the subtle scent of iron on the wind before a great beast lunged from the foliage around them. Her breath hitched with a shrill scream of terror. Its shape was too large to be a dog. Too low to bear. From her spot within the circle, she could barely see what it looked like in its entirety before Karin was sent flying to the side with a swipe of its foreleg. Clamping her hands over her ears to try and drown out the sound of his screams. Her new sense of hearing offers no sense of comfort, as her hands over her ears do nothing to drown out the noises. For a brief moment, she thought she heard a car’s horn, or maybe the high squeal of a kettle left too long on the stove. Something domestic. Something safe. The whizz of Teor’s axe whistled past her ear, and the illusion shattered.
Heart stopping roars and bizarre growls mixed with guttural yells flash through the grasslands; the trees swallow up the sounds without mercy. Barik charged forwards, the circle losing yet another member.
Then chaos erupted. “Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!”
Axes strike bone, gnashing and ripping at tender flesh. Sickening pops and wet squelches made her stomach churn. The sounds were that of a maelstrom, metal and bone and whines and howls. It was a rabid feast of blood and cartilage. Daring to peek out, strong hands usher her back and turn her round, practically ripping her arm from its socket as its owner drags her along. Panting heavily, the sounds of screams eventually peter out, and in their place is a dull ache. Looking from the ground to the tree line and then forwards, the urge to look back doesn’t even register in her mind before the arm grabbing her own shakes her back into focus.
{“Teor!? Teor! What’s going on?! Teor!”} Her voice faltered in her throat.
Lungs burning with inhalation. There was the taste of copper on her tongue. The world, it seemed, was total chaos around her. The air stank of blood and sweat, and Teor’s hand remained clamped firmly around her wrist, dragging her forwards and onwards. Stumbling, half-blind with fear, and made deaf by the onslaught of sounds and sensations. Sheer animalistic panic coursed through her veins. Shapes moved faster than shadows among the trees; her mind spun with flashes of crimson and steel.
A haggard scream tore through the clearing, gurgling and going silent. {“Karin?!”} Screaming out, in her heart she knew he wouldn’t call back.
Neither would Barik.
Nor, Farin.
Teor’s cry tore through the din, snapping her mind back into her skin. Leading her by the arm, moving as fast as two dwarves and an elfling can run. Yanking her back into focus, Carik fell in beside them, panting heavily and face streaked with blood. Together they ran through the brush, thorns tearing at unguarded legs, branches slashing at beardless faces. From behind them, there came a hollow, haunting howl. It wasn’t chasing after them. Yet.
But when it did, it would catch up in no time at all. Teor knew it, and by looking up to sneak a glance at Carik’s face, he knew it too. ‘We aren’t running to escape,’ she thought. ‘We are running because stopping isn’t an option.’ Coughing out a rasping sob, for a moment it felt as if her legs gave out. ‘Stopping means death.’ Then came another noise. Low at first, but then grew to be as loud as thunder.
The warg hesitated at the sound. Even with the pain in her chest and the scratches littering her arms and legs, through her panic, she felt it. The way the forest shifted, how the grasses swayed in time with the wind. Faltering mid-stride, Teor crashed down to his knees suddenly. Carik skidded to a stop, nearly toppling over Teor’s legs before adjusting and pushing their charge behind a felled tree. Scrambling for purchase, Teor roared as he rolled over, just in time to avoid the warg as it barreled through the shadows behind them. Massive and black, dark shaggy fur stunk the air. Its eyes gleamed with a cruel malice. Snarling, it rounded Teor as one would with sick fascination a dying bird, hot saliva and blood dripping from its maw.
Again, there was that same low sound, closer this time. ‘More creatures?’ she thought in a daze. With Carik pressing up against her, his eyes widened first when through the opposite edge of the clearing came a massive black bear. Teor barely had any time to roll again when the bear met the warg mid-lunge. There was screaming. ‘Who’s screaming? What’s going on?’ Carik moved first, followed by Teor, who hoisted their elfling charge over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. ‘I’m screaming,’ she thought, when the sound of her cries echoed on in her ears. Looking back, craning her neck at an angle to see. She saw the bear and knew no more as unconsciousness pulled at her mind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ithron dârr. (She’ll walk)
Uzgul khazâd mân nufûd gân gâd (we will be at the city in two days time)
Gundak nash, imbi drigion na al (When we don't pause for every water that seems good.)
uznârak eldar (or injured elves.)
akâl (eat)
Bëran (warg)
Akhîrân! (brace yourselves)
Khazâd! Khazâd! and Khazâd ai-mênu! ("Axes of the Dwarves! The Dwarves are upon you!)