It was late afternoon. Snorri and Bulk had been marching through most of the day; other than occasional breaks for meals consisting of more of the salty-tasting dried goat, they had spared little time as they strode out of the marshes and across great open plains of emerald green grass. As the sun burned its way across the sky high above them, they crested a hill, a vast woodland stretched from the base of the hill rolling towards the horizon ahead of them. Buulk slowed his pace as they approached the tree line. “Right Snorri, this here is The Hollows,” he said, gesturing to the trees behind him. “Weve got two choices: we either go around, which takes a few days, or we go through, which should take six hours.” Snorri considered the dwarf’s words as he leaned on his sword. “How dangerous is the forest?” He asked.
“Horrifically dangerous, elves that will eat you, a centaur who will kick you head in, but luckily for you, this isn't THE forest; this is just the hollows. The most dangerous thing in here is probably wolves, maybe a stray goblin of two.” Buulk joked. Snorri missed the joke, having no idea what the difference was between a forest and the hollows, but he finally opened his mouth after mulling over the options. “Ive been walking for too many days already. Lets just get through as quickly as possible. “Thats what I like to hear!” the dwarf said with an encouraging smile, giving Snorri a good view of his sharp yellow teeth before he turned and led the gnome into the trees.
Darkness descended over them as they moved deeper into the woodland, the sunlight barely managing to break through the dark green canopy high above them. After an hour or so of making his way through the trees, Snorri once again heard the spider’s voice inside his head. “Where are we going?” hissed Arracop, as if unsure if the gnome would respond. Snorri considered ignoring the spider; he was still unsure as to what the creature was, and after talking to Buulk, all he had managed to work out was that Arracop was possibly a demon. He had been thinking about the possibilities of what that could mean and, as such, had been limiting his telepathic conversations since he had left the mountain. “Are we following this dwarf forever? He will have you in chains before long. Best strike him down now.” Arracop began to muse in his head. “What do you mean?” Snorri's curiousity finally tipped the scales in favour of talking to the possible demon once more.
“He is a Dwarf Snorri. It’s in their nature to take slaves. I imagine a gnome would fetch a high price in the markets. Where is he taking us?” Arracop thought to him, Snorri’s blood ran cold. Until now, he had trusted the dwarf implicitly, but his knowledge of the other races of the world was thin and mostly limited to the information he had gained from the dwarf. “To a trading outpost, the capital." He thought of the spider’s voice as he followed the dwarf as they moved through the dark trees. “Why?” Arracop hissed at him. “Where did you ask him to take you?” Snorris stomach felt like it had suddenly been filled with ice.
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“I asked him to take me to other gnomes." He thought to Arracop, tightening his grip on his blade. “Buulk, The Gnomes in the Capital, Are they slaves?” He asked his large companion. It took the dwarf a few minutes of hacking through the undergrowth before he answered, "Not really, but sort of.” He grumbled, breaking through the bramble, and once again began to move at a steady pace. “What do you mean?” Snorri pressed before the dwarf could forget his question. “Well yes, they are technically slaves, but they are not used for hard labour. They are not very strong, you ee." The dwarf finnally ansered as they passed under the bowels of a large oak tree. “So what are they used for?” Snorri asked, unsure of what his future may very well contain. "Fighting,” grinned the dwarf. “Betting on the outcomes of Dwarf’s fighting is illegal, but other races, thats a different matter. Huge business is the fighting pits. lots of gold if you can get your hand on a winner.”
Snorri raised an eyebrow at that. In his colony, they had lived by a code of pacifism, and he dreaded thinking about what the gnomes at the capital would be like if he were to ever actually get there. “Buulk, are you intending to make me a slave?” He asked, gripping his sword tight in his hand and trying to work out if he would be able to reach the dwarf's head before Buulk was able to draw his warhammer. Buulk let out a long sigh. “Honestly? I’m not sure if it would be legal if I did.” Buulk stammered. “Don't get me wrong, I'd love to. It could make a lot of gold in the pits, but if that sword is actually what I think it is and you're telling the truth about not being in the things service, youd probably be a duke or something; I'm not sure our legal system is complicated.” He exclaimed, grunting the last word as he jumped over a ditch.
Snorri considered bolting into the forest away from the dwarf for a moment before finally deciding to trust the dwarf. As he landed on the opposing bank, the pair set forward once again. “How far is it now?” Snorri asked; he had lost track of how many hours they had been trekking through the woods. “Not long,” grunted the dwarf. “Maybe another hour if you stop asking questions." Snorri took the hint and ceased probing the dwarf for information, following close behind as the dwarf pushed his way through the woodland’s undergrowth.
The dwarf was right. After another hour or so, Snorri follwed on as the pair finally broke through a dark treeline and into a grassland that sloped upwards ahead of them, rising towards the horizon. At the top of the hill, surrounded by the setting sun, Snorri could pick out the shape of five or so low stone buildings, specks of light shining through windows welcomingly towards them. "See,” Buulk grunted. "It only took fifty minutes.”