Chapter Four: Duren

Duren and Treabhar set off towards Illfellin to find a way to convince the king that assisting the Elves is necessary.

Chapter Four: Duren

Duren stood across from his childhood friend, Treabhar Strongwind, his back nearly touching the fence of the training arena. He studied his longtime acquaintance, taking in the equally as focused gaze cast at him by Treabhar’s strong silver eyes. Duren wiped his brow with the wrist of his sword hand, clearing a few loose strands of his long golden blonde hair from his vision. Treabhar did the same with his own fire-orange hair. Both Dwarves had long beards, but Duren’s was more elegant. It was braided with various bits of jewels and other finery, demonstrating the riches that came with being prince of the Thordor Valley.

The Prince steadied himself, raising his sword to attack position and using his shield to cover the part of his body left exposed by an open stance. Treabhar stood straight, readjusting his grip on his two handed warhammer.

A savage war-cry shattered the silence in the arena. Treabhar was charging across the open ground, hammer raised above his head. Duren rushed to meet him, accepting the hammer on his shield. Duren bounced back a few steps, shrugging to send blood flow back to his now numb shield arm. Then he lunged forward with his sword, the Dwarven-Forged Iron blade hissing with jubilance as it flew towards its target. Treabhar spun out of the way and let the momentum of his turn carry the end of his hammer towards his opponent’s head. Duren ducked. The blunt edge sailed over his head, and Duren sprung upwards, sending his sword in the direction of Treabhar’s gut. Reacting quickly, Treabhar pulled his hammer back towards the ground, smacking the sword out of the way of his torso, causing a metallic ring to fill their ears. On his feet again, balance regained, Duren unleashed a series of viciously fast attacks. Treabhar managed to dodge or smack every blow out of the way, emerging unscathed from the flurry of blows. Now it was his turn. Treabhar swung and smashed at Duren with his warhammer. Duren ducked and dodged and parried. He braced himself as his shield was pounded again and again by a series of overhead blows. Then, out of nowhere, Treabhar spun and caught Duren off guard. The blunt hammer smacked into Duren’s ribs with unrelenting force, sending him sprawling across the arena, crumpling to the floor.

Duren sat up, rubbing his side. “Thank the hills for those protective spells I cast on our weapons. Even with the special combat magic I used to dull our blows I’m sure I’ll still receive a nasty bruise!”

Treabhar laughed. “If I’d known you were going to complain so much I wouldn’t have hit you.” His voice was light and jovial. Treabhar seemed to have a smile permanently etched into his face. He walked over and extended his hand towards the prince, helping him off of the ground.

Duren brushed the dirt of of his clothes. “So Treabhar, what do you think? About what I asked you earlier,” he said, a note of seriousness suddenly touching his words.

“I think I would be glad to assist you my friend. My men would too. The might of the Zanthrong is at your service,” Treabhar replied.

“Thank you Treabhar, your words bring me hope. We may yet save the Elves.”

“Do you have a plan Duren? How will we convince your father to support us?” Treabhar asked.

“We still have five days until my father makes his final decision. As the crown prince I have been trained to be the ambassador of our people. For more years than I can remember I have traveled across all of Iobrias, meeting with the leaders of many different peoples. I say you and I travel north to the elven city Illfellin. There we can witness Salazarius’ malice firsthand. Perhaps luck’s light will shine on us and we will meet a member of Fairi�' Noss�', the group of freedom fighters resisting Salazarius. If we are so lucky, we might bring back an ambassador to convince my father that the helping the Elves is worth our time,” Duren explained.

“Illfellin is many miles away. How do you plan to travel there?” Treabhar asked.

“We will fly of course. Alabast’s griffins will carry us to Illfellin,” Duren said, a smile touching his his lips.

Treabhar groaned. “I was hoping you weren’t going to say that. I hate flying! Dwarves are meant to remain on the earth. We are at home on the ground. That is why we live inside of it!”

“It will be good for you to get your head out of the dirt and into the clouds for a bit, Treabhar,” Duren said.

“If you say so,” Treabhar replied, rolling his eyes.

“Come the morning we will climb the stairs to the aviary and ask Alabast if we can borrow a pair of griffins.”

“I’ll need all of my strength if I’m to ride a griffin all the way to Illfellin. Goodnight Duren, I’ll meet you by the stairs at sun-up tomorrow morning,” Treabhar said, then turned away from the arena.

Duren did the same, making his way towards his chambers.

Morning came quickly, and after grabbing some food to eat from Dundavar’s kitchens. Then he made his way to the aviary stairs where Treabhar Strongwind stood waiting for him, hammer strapped to his back.

“Well let’s get on with it. If I’m going to fly I’d rather like to get it over with,” Treabhar said.

“Lead the way,” Duren said.

Treabhar turned to start the arduous climb to the top of the aviary, followed by Duren. The two Dwarves mounted each step, working their way towards the open air above them. Several minutes passed and eventually Treabhar crested the top step, followed by Duren. They emerged into the aviary, a light breeze coming in through the open sides of the aviary. The valley was bathed in a warm golden glow, the sunrise enveloping the land in its blanket of light. Alabast Airfeather stood at the edge of the aviary looking out into the valley, stroking the neck of a griffin.

“Alabast, I’ve come to ask a favor of you,” Duren said.

The old dwarf didn’t turn to face Duren when he replied, “What can I do for you young Prince?”

“Treabhar and I are going to Illfellin to find a member of Fairi�' Noss�'. Hopefully their story can convince my father that we need to assist the Elves. We were wondering if we could use two of your griffins to carry us to the Evereach forest. We would not make it in time on foot or even on horseback,” Duren explained.

“Of course my Prince. I would be happy to let you fly my griffins to Illfellin,” Alabast said.

“Thank you Alabast,” Duren said.

Alabast led Duren and Treabhar to a pair of griffin roosts set rather close together. Two gold-feathered griffins eyed the Dwarves warily and stood as they approached. Alabast reached his hand out and stroked their beaks, seeming to calm them. He knelt close to their heads and whispered something inaudible. Then he rose and turned to face Duren and Treabhar.

“Come here young warriors,” Alabast said, motioning for them to approach. “You must introduce yourselves to the griffins before they will let you climb upon their backs. They don’t let just any Dwarf ride them.”

Treabhar sighed. “Introduce myself to the griffin?”

“Yes, Mister Strongwind. You have to make sure the griffin likes you. Just because you’re general of the Zanthrong doesn’t mean any griffin will allow you to ride it,” Alabast said.

“How does one go about introducing himself to a griffin, Alabast?” Duren asked.

“Griffins have strong noses. Hold out your hand and state your name and title, the griffin will see if it trusts your scent or not. If it decides that it does trust you make sure to mind your manners and thank it. Like I said before, not everyone is worthy to ride such majestic creatures,” Alabast instructed.

Duren nodded, then turned to face the griffin. He studied the creature, taking in its golden feathers and fur, which glistened like silk in the sunlight. Its eyes shone like flames in the early morning light. A spark of intelligence glimmered behind its bright eyes. Duren could tell the griffin was studying him as well.

Taking in a breath, the prince held out his hand to the griffin. “I am Duren, son of Dalen. I am prince of the Thordor Valley.”

The majestic creature stepped forward, gently sniffing Duren’s palm. After a few seconds had gone by the griffin leaned forward and nuzzled Duren’s hand with its head. Its eyes lit up with a light of happiness. It seemed to be smiling. Duren laughed and stroked the beast’s head.

“He likes you Prince Duren,” Alabast chuckled.

Treabhar stepped forward now, after watching his friend introduce himself to his griffin. He stretched out his hand to creature in front of him and said, “I am Treabhar Strongwind, son of Garrick. I am general of the Zanthrong.”

The griffin regarded Treabhar with its icy gaze. It seemed to mull over Treabhar’s words in its head before finally making its decision. Grunting, it leaned forward and nuzzled Treabhar’s hand. The relieved Dwarf let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“They like you both! How lucky. Allow me to introduce you to your griffins. Duren, you will be riding Hyperion. He is a strong steed, treat him well. Treabhar, your griffin companion is called Maia. She is as strong as she is stubborn,” Alabast said. “Travel swiftly and safely. May the wind and weather be in your favor. Illfellin is little more than a day and a half’s journey from here. Hyperion and Maia may be strong but even they cannot travel the entire way without break. Weary wings will need rest.”

“Thank you Alabast. We will take good care of the griffins,” Duren promised as he swung his stout legs over Hyperion’s back.

Treabhar attempted to mount Maia, but the mighty griffin reared up on her hind legs and stretched her wings sending the Dwarf toppling to the floor. Alabast laughed as Treabhar stood and brushed himself off. Again, he attempted to swing his legs over Maia’s body but found that he could not get the momentum needed to mount the griffin.

“Are you in need of a boost, Treabhar?” Alabast asked.

“No no, I can handle this myself. I’ve never ridden a griffin before. I haven’t quite got the hang of it yet. Not like Duren has anyway,” Treabhar said, eyeing his friend who sat confidently upon Hyperion’s back.

Trying a third time, Treabhar lept into the air, swinging his legs wide. Finally, he landed on Maia’s back. She grunted, seeming to say it took you long enough.

“Fly swiftly and strongly, my friends,” Alabast said as Hyperion and Maia lept into the air.

The two griffins took off northwards, powerful wings propelling them through the sky with strong precise flaps. Duren stared wide-eyed at the view surrounding them. The hills and mountains of the valley were stunning. The majestic scene flew by at a rapid pace, barely giving Duren enough time to take in the beautiful green landscape below. Dwarven farms, shops, and even a few houses sat below them in the heart of the Valley. Not every Dwarf in the Thordor Valley chose to live within the halls of Dundavar. Some lived in the center of the Valley while others lived in the dwarven city, Danheim, located to the west of Dundavar, nestled in the mouth of the Valley.

Duren looked at Treabhar. “This is exhilarating, isn’t it?” He had to shout to be heard over the rush of wind blowing past him.

Treabhar looked uncomfortable. Almost frightened. “Something like that, yes.”

Duren laughed to himself then resumed looking at the breathtaking beauty of the land below him. Everything looked so small. As a Dwarf, Duren found that fascinating. For once, he was taller, he could finally see what it was like to be above someone. Very very far above. It was exhilarating.

The hours flew by and Duren never got tired of the thrill. Eventually, Duren could see the edge of the Evereach forest in the distance.

“Duren!” Treabhar shouted over the rush of wind. “Duren, we need to land. We’ll never find Illfellin from the air like this. The trees of the Evereach are too thick. We need to land and follow the road.”

Looking around, Duren could see that Treabhar was right. It would be impossible to spot Illfellin from above the Evereach. “You’re right. Land on the road, we’ll give Hyperion and Maia a short rest and then begin walking.”

Duren eased Hyperion down towards the road, and soon enough his paws and talons touched the dirt ground. Maia and Treabhar landed next to them a few seconds later. They waited for a few minutes, letting the griffons stretch their tired wings and regain some strength, then they mounted up again, heading down the road towards Illfellin. The griffons trotted along the road with ease, cawing happily to each other as they walked. They walked for a few more hours until the sun started to set.

“We should make camp. We may get lost in the dark,” Duren pointed out.

“Good idea. Up ahead there looks like a good enough spot. There’s a nice sized clearing off the side of the road,” Treabhar said.

The two Dwarves pulled their griffons off to the side of the road and unloaded their bedrolls and food supplies in order set up a proper camp. Once they were settled, the two friends found it easy to relax. They conversed deep into the night, sharing old stories and laughing like the old friends they were. As the hours passed the fire began to dwindle into nothing but smoldering coals. Just as Duren was about to drift off into sleep, a sound caught his ears.

A light musical humming filled his senses. It was so pleasant. So comforting. Duren wanted nothing more than to find where the music was coming from. He could tell Treabhar could hear it too. His friend was smiling, searching wide-eyed for the source of the music. No matter how hard they searched, the thing producing the melody eluded them. Duren was frustrated. The music was so beautiful, he needed to know what was causing it.

Then something caught his eye. There in the distance he spotted a glowing blue light. A floating orb, radiating fluorescent blue. Suddenly more lights appeared, igniting from nowhere in the darkness. Yellow, green, red. There were four glowing orbs now. The beautiful melody intensified. Duren could feel himself being pulled towards the lights and towards the music but he offered no resistance. He didn’t want to resist.

“Treabhar,” he whispered, “they’re beautiful.”

Duren didn’t know if Treabhar had even heard him, but he didn’t wait to find out. Without waiting to see if his friend was following, Duren took off, walking towards the lights. Drawn to the lights, to the sound, to the music. Duren was captivated.