Ingwed and the Dirt Dwellers

by

Ken Alvarez

 

The frozen lake cracked between his feet, slowly, ever so slowly Ingwed started backing towards the shore and danger. He would never even been on the frozen lake if the dirt dwellers hadn’t popped out of the ground and tripped his horse, sending him tumbling to the ground.

Luckily the dirt dwellers were concentrating on killing his horse so he was able to slip away with his mottled grey woolen cloak blending in with the dirty snow. Finally, one more step and the sound of the ice cracking stopped.

Staying close to shore Ingwed started jogging, to put distance between the dirt dwellers and himself. Ingwed can hear them calling to each other in the copse of trees, their voices getting closer.

Touching his horn Ingwed briefly considers blowing it, but the dirt dwellers are much closer than his village and his clan would never get to him in time to rescue him. Cursing softly under his breath Ingwed continues on.

The dirt dwellers come out of the copse and spot Ingwed on the ice, their calls get louder. Ingwed glances back and sees the dirt dwellers, short, smelly little people all covered in dirt, rushing towards him.

Ingwed throws caution to the wind and cuts straight towards his village, the dirt dwellers start running straight towards him. Ingwed smiles wryly, knowing that when the dirt dwellers got closer to the center of the lake, the ice would crack again and swallow them all up.

Ingwed cuts slightly towards shore so he is off of the thinner ice. The sound of the cracking ice is drowned out by the sudden shrieks and yells of the dirt dwellers, Ingwed stops and turns in time to see the last dirt dweller break through the ice.

Ingwed laughs as he watches the five dirt dwellers struggle to get out of the freezing cold water. Their struggles growing more feeble as the cold water saps the strength from their bodies. It doesn’t take long for their struggles to cease altogether.

The sudden silence is broken only by the sounds of water splashing off of the ice, and ice chunks colliding with each each other and the edge of the hole in the ice. Ingwed adjusts his cloak and starts the long walk towards his village and home.

Ingwed follows the edge of the forest as he travels, his eyes scanning for game as he walks. The village is running low on meat, and he is one of the four villagers out hunting this cold winter day.

The sound of a cracking branch draws Ingwed’s attention into the forest. There in the trees is a majestic elk making his way down a well used trail. Whispering a prayer to the God of the hunt, Ingwed slowly draws his bow from it’s scabbard and an arrow from his quiver.

Moving ever so slowly, Ingwed nocks an arrow and draws it while keeping his arrow aimed at the elk’s heart. The elk takes a step forward, and Ingwed smoothly releases his arrow. The arrow flies straight and true, it’s flint arrowhead passing easily through the elk.

The elk staggers forward a few steps before crumpling to the ground. Ingwed gives a prayer of thanks to the God of the hunt and honours the elk as he retrieves his arrow.

Ingwed finds two long branches and enough short ones to make a travois large enough to drag the elk back to his village. After lashing the travois together he manages to roll the elk onto it.

Ingwed starts the long, laborious process of dragging the elk home. Ingwed sets the pace by quietly singing a marching song as he goes. After several stops to rest, Ingwed sees the edge of his village in the distance.

After one last rest Ingwed feels up to the task of getting to his village. From the village two riders approach Ingwed. Ingwed sets his burden down and greets his friends, “Hail Vulmar, Hail Durlan.”

Vulmar looks Ingwed up and down, “Hail Ingwed, where is your horse?” Ingwed regales his friends with the tale of how he outwitted and killed the group of vile dirt dwellers who had killed his horse.

The three hunters lash the travois to Vulmar’s horse, and Ingwed gets on the back of Durlan’s horse. The trio are soon in the village. Several villagers yell out “Hail Ingwed, where is your horse.” Ingwed holds up his hand, “I will tell my tale after the evening meal.”

the villagers gather in the center of town after the evening meal. Ingwed tells his tale, many of the villagers get angry, Tathaln, the village elder motions for silence, “This has gone on long enough, we must deal with these dirt dwellers.”

Ingwed tells the village he will take vengeance upon the dirt dwellers, and asks who will help. The hunters all stand and the chants of kill the dirt dwellers start. Ingwed and the hunters go off to plan on how they will deal with the dirt dwellers.

At first light the hunters mount their horses and head out to where Ingwed was attacked. They explore the area and find four holes leading down into the dirt. Using their stone axes they cut piles of green branches and gather pine cones, which they throw down into the holes.

Torches are lit and thrown into the piles of green wood, soon clouds of acrid smoke is roiling off the burning wood, some rising up, quite a bit going into the tunnels. The hunters intently watch the tunnel entrances.

Ingwed sees two dirt dwellers approach his fire to attempt to extinguish it as the sounds of coughing and retching can be heard from down the passages. He quickly release two arrows, the injured dirt dwellers howl in pain and retreat into the tunnel. The sounds of battle come from the other three fires.

The hunters continue to throw green wood into the fires, increasing the amount of smoke going into the tunnels until the sun is high in the sky. The hunters return to their village under the noon time sun.

 

To be continued?