A Friendly Dwarf’s POV

I’ve spent the last two weeks trying to get my new little friend to talk to me. It turns out he is far more stubborn than I had anticipated. I was under the impression that sharing my meal with him every other day would have been enough to earn at least a few words from the child. Guess not.

Although his gaze has softened somewhat, he also no longer looks like a member of the undead. On top of that, I no longer feel like he is contemplating killing me anymore. But even so, we have yet to speak.

However, it matters not. I am a patient man, and I have nothing but time. On my first day with my new master, he mentioned he had found a buyer for the boy. Judging by our general direction, we are heading for City State Sandervile. If my rough estimate is correct, with our stops, we have about a month before we arrive.

The boy will also most likely be sold in the big winter auction, something I’ve experienced myself numerous times. I can’t say that bodes well for him. Being part of such an “auspicious” auction is not something that will go well for such a young boy. Let’s just cross that chasm when we get there…

As usual, we were clearing the last portion of a field. The mixed Dark Elf boy was lagging behind with his limp, struggling to carry his bundle of wheat. The poor lad tripped, falling on his face. I walked over to him and lifted him back to his feet, then gave him a pat on the shoulder and a smile.

Instead of letting him struggle, I took his bundle for him. I’ve done this a few times now, and he just looks at me, seemingly unsure what to do or say. I wanted to tell him this is when he should say “Thank you,” but that might just piss him off, and he already looks plenty angry. I’ve worked too hard to sabotage myself now.

Usually, helping another slave like this would earn me a lashing, but my new master is an interesting man. He said that as long as I did the work of four slaves, it wouldn’t be a problem. So I’m doing my job, the boys, plus the work of about three other men. It’s not much extra work for me in the long run.

I walked on ahead of the boy so we wouldn’t get in needless trouble. Besides, his limp would keep him in the back for a while, and I couldn’t pick him up to move him faster.

My master once asked me why I was helping him, and I simply told him that I wanted to. He just laughed and waved me off and said nothing more. The Vampire didn’t seem all too pleased, but that ugly monster always looks pissed off at something. I gain a small amount of joy when she gets ordered around like a slave herself, really puts a smile on my face. And by helping the boy out more, the Vampire is less likely to find a reason to sink her fangs into him.

“Es—scuse me, mister Dwarf,” a small voice called out to me, knocking me out of my thoughts.

Finally! Has he decided to speak but wait… is he a girl after all? I looked down, and pulling on what little scraps I had on, was a little girl. Judging by her clothes, she must be from this village.

But I really wish she would stop pulling on me. This small piece of cloth is separating my most private places from everyone. I’d rather not have some child see me as I came into the world.

“Yes?” I asked.

She tilted her head and furrowed her brows at me in confusion. “Why do you sound like that?”

“What do you mean this is just how I sound?”

“Why?”

“Because… it’s just how I sound. Why are your eyes brown?”

“Because daddy’s eyes are brown.”

“Well, then there you have it. It’s just how things are. Now how can I help you, little girl?”

Usually, a slave talking to a child in a village would see the slave being punished, but since she came up to me, it shouldn’t be a problem. I just have to treat her with respect, and hopefully, her parents won’t ask for my fingers for talking to their daughter.

Anyways this child has probably grown up with having slaves come around her village for her entire life. So seeing somebody like me is as normal as the sun rising in the morning. I wonder if she even understands what we slaves are?

“What is all over your skin?” she asked.

“Oh, these?” I pointed to my arms. “Well, it’s a little Dwarven secret.”

“Can I get them too?”

“Probably not. It hurts a lot, you know. I’m pretty sure you would be happier without them.” I gave her a wide smile as I felt the gaze of others on me now. This conversation has gone on for a little too long…

“Okay.”

Ah, thank the short attention span of a child.

With that, she bolted off down the road, not even looking back at me. My master, of course, had watched the whole thing transpire but just continued like nothing. I’m ready for today to be over. Too bad we still have even more to do…

—

We are getting served a late dinner tonight. The transporting of the last remnants of wheat has taken a long time and with it being the end of the season, all the slaves are exhausted. It’s around this time that most slaves start dying.

Masters don’t want to pay for medicine or healing for a slave who won’t survive the winter anyway. It’s also one less mouth to feed. So they typically work people extra hard at the end of the harvesting season to thin our numbers. Only the strong survive this time of year.

But today, like most days, I was sitting down with the Dark Elf child. I can’t share my food with the boy every day. I have to eat to survive as well. However, I don’t have to eat very much to keep going, at least that’s how I feel.

I know it’s not very good for me, but that’s fine. Also, me just being here in front of the boy is enough of a deterrence to the scavengers. So as long as he can eat his meal slowly and in peace, that’s good enough for both of us.

Somebody poked me in the back, so I turned to look at them. It was the girl from earlier. She had a loaf of fresh bread in her hands. What was she doing amongst us? I almost felt special for a second when I realized everyone else had also gotten a loaf.

It seems this village is a little kinder than most. I took the bread and said my thanks as she skipped away. The bread was still warm to the touch and smelled absolutely divine.

I turned back around, and the boy was drooling as he stared longingly at the loaf. I chuckled and tore the soft bread in half, tossing one side to him. The bread never touched the ground as he snatched it midair and started devouring the bread.

I joined him shortly as I began to savor this feast that had been bestowed upon us. Finally, some good fucking food. Maybe I should dip this in the soup… ah wait, that would probably make the bread taste like water.

Mhm?

What was that noise? Wait, did I even hear anything? No, there it is again…

Is it… him? Has he finally spoken? He has, hasn’t he. The child has the voice of a slave, a slave that hasn’t spoken in a considerable amount of time. I don’t talk all that much either, but I try to keep my voice usable. How long has it been since he has spoken to somebody?

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Why?” he asked weakly; his voice was small and quiet.

It looks like all it took was a little bread. If I knew that, I would have given him some ages ago. “Took you long enough. And I believe the first thing you do when you start a conversation is to ask for somebody’s name. So, what’s your name?”

I got to hear him talk and see a new facial expression. Today must be my lucky day. The boy’s eyes looked like they were about to burst out from his head, then he did something that surprised me. I think he started laughing. I don’t know if you could call whatever sound he was making a laugh, but I wasn’t sure what else to call it.

Even though his voice was still weak he still spoke. “I thought Dwarves were supposed to have deep voices?” he snickered, sounding like an old man.

“That’s racist, you know? Just because I’m a Dwarf doesn’t mean I have to have a deep voice,” I complained half-heartedly.

It was true. My voice was very high pitched for a Dwarf… even higher pitched than most women. This world is unfair.

“I-uh… sorry. My name is Kaladin,” he responded awkwardly. I rolled my hands to urge him to continue speaking. He had a confused look on his face, so I thought I’d help him out,

“My name is Kaladin and…?"

He just rolled his eyes. “My name is Kaladin, and what is your name…”

“See? That wasn’t so hard, now was it? My friends call me Squeaks.”

“Squeaks?” he asked incredulously.

“Yup, Squeaks. Say Kaladin, what’s your last name?”

I already had a feeling this kid was a part of the Shadow clan, but he was awfully far away from home. And he came from the west. I had many questions for my new friend Kaladin.

"Don’t have one.”

“It’s not very nice to lie to your friends, Kaladin.”

“Friends? What are you—”

“Shhh, keep that voice of yours down,” I hissed.

He must have trouble regulating his volume since he hasn’t spoken in so long. Perhaps he has just been yelling in his head. Slaves rarely speak above a whisper, even during a meal. The only sounds that are heard are that of people fighting and food being eaten. Few had time to speak to each other or even wanted to.

“Listen, Kaladin, friendship is built on the basis of trust. So why don’t we start with some questions? I’ll ask you one question then you get to ask me one in return. How does that sound?” He nodded. “Well then, I’ll start. You are a member of the Shadow Clan, right? So what’s your last name?”

His eyes darted around to see if anyone was listening in, but nobody was as far as I could tell. He seemed reluctant to answer but finally, he sighed. “Shadowheart.”

Shadowheart? Mmmm, I don’t know any Shadowhearts or any member of the Shadow Clan that has heart in their last name. Maybe the heart part came from his other parent. Elves do that kind of stuff… Why not just keep one last name? Why do they always have to make things complicated?

“Now answer my question, why are you helping me? Everybody beats me and tries to steal my food, so why are you sharing yours? Aren’t you starving too?” he asked.

“Well, because I want to. Probably not the answer you are looking for, but it’s the truth. I felt myself being drawn to you and wanted to see what was so interesting about the mixed Dark Elf boy. So I’ve been sharing my food with you to get you to talk to me. And yes, I am starving. But it’s nothing I’m not used to.”

“You are drawn to me? Why—”

“Why? I don’t know. To be honest, I just am. It’s not every day I get to talk to somebody like you. Now another question, Kaladin, who taught you how to fight? Even though you were acting like a mindless beast, your skills were too sharp to write off as animal instincts.”

“My father taught me everything I know,” he lied. Well, I think he is lying, at least.

“Is that so? Dark Elves, even members of the Shadow Clan, are renowned for their abilities with the spear. I imagine they are pretty good at all kinds of fighting, but I’ve never seen somebody fight like you before.”

“It’s true. My dad taught me how to use a spear, how to hunt, and how to fight.” I believe that his dad taught him these things, but… well I guess I can’t expect him to tell me everything in our first conversation.

Now it was his turn. “Those marks on your body. They aren’t tattoos or scars, so what are they?”

“You know what tattoos are? It’s pretty rare for somebody to know what a tattoo is. Nobody has any around here. It’s only the people of The Dunes who have any…”

Well, there was that one War God in the Empire that had some. But he is the exception.

“I’ve seen them before, so I know what they are. So?” he asked me expectantly.

Well, I did say friendships were built on trust, and if he is a member of the Shadow Clan, then it makes sense he is more worldly than most. “They are runes that I’ve carved on my body. I’m sure you have heard of them.”

“Runes? Like Dwarven Runesmith runes? You actually used your body for that? And they are all over you. It must have taken you ages to do all of this…”

The boy seemed somewhat astonished that I did something so unimaginable. Most people would have never thought to do what I’ve done, and most wouldn’t have the guts to do it if they knew how bad it hurt.

Mmm, so the boy knows about runes and Runesmiths as well? Even more interesting… This kid is definitely something else. I wonder if our master understands just how valuable this boy is.

“Yes, it’s as you say. They are runes, and it took me six years to complete them.”

“That’s a long time… do— do they work?”

I smiled, and I imagine it was quite beautiful. “That’s a secret.”

He didn’t question me and instead resigned himself to accepting my answer. Everybody has to keep some secrets, right?

“Now then, one last question from me for tonight.” I scooted closer to whisper into his ear. “You can use magic, can’t you?”

I thought beforehand he was too young to be able to use magic, but now I’m convinced he can. He knows how to fight, and he is more aware of the world around him than I had anticipated. Elves are also known for being gifted in the arts of magic.

I find it hard to believe that such a talented child like him wouldn't be able to use some kind of magic. So I'm sure that he can use magic and the surprised look on his face was enough to confirm my suspicions. Instead of letting him fumble about with a makeshift lie, I told him.

“You should keep that secret to yourself, Kaladin. It’s a good thing that you haven’t told anyone. I’m sure when the time comes, that will be your biggest advantage. And Delpha knows you are going to need it where we are going…”

“Okay. And who is Delpha?” he asked cautiously.

“You know what tattoos are, but you don’t know about the patron god of all Dwarves?”

“I didn’t have much of a chance to learn about religion…”

I guess being knowledgeable about everything in the world is hard, especially for somebody so young. But, if the boy hadn’t been enslaved just what kind of person would he have been?

“Well, Delpha is to the Dwarves what Amon-Ra is to Humans. Surely you know who Amon-Ra is?” I asked.

“Uhh…”

Well, maybe he isn’t all that special after all…

“Amon-Ra is the patron god of Humans. The Holy Kingdom of Arotal worships Amon-Ra as the one true God, and so do most Humans. Even a lot of the other races, like Wood Elves in the Republic of Elshara, worship Amon-Ra nowadays. To each their own, I guess.”

“I see… good to know.”

Kaladin had a pensive look on his face. It looked like he was trying to figure something out. Then he just shrugged his shoulders and finished off the last of his bread, either forgetting or just not caring about his previous thoughts.

“Lights out!” somebody yelled out to us.

The few candles that were lighting our shared building were snuffed out, plunging us into the darkness of the night.

“Perfect timing. Good night, Kaladin.”

“My friends call me Kal. You can call me that too if you want.”

Ah, man… he is warming up to me.

“Well, goodnight, Kal.”

“Mhm, night, Squeaks.”

…

…

…

“Hey, Squeaks,” Kal said softly.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”