The Great Hall of Thrond was alive with song and fire. The crystals in the ceiling had been dimmed and the walls were lined with twelve foot tall rush torches that fountained every color of flame. Human servants helped the dwarven porters move the benches away from the center of the hall and put trophs of glowing briquettes in their place, over which a menagerie of beasts turned on spits and kettles boiled with broth. The stone benches that seated the guests during the wedding were now surrounding quartz tables set on trestles of red and yellow jade. Heaps of meat braised in honey, butter, and tropical juices nested atop beds of steaming vegetables seasoned with pepper and vinegar. Boards stacked with loaves of hot, doughy bread and wheels of soft cheese filled the few empty spaces between plates and platters, and dwarven servers milled about the hall pouring broth into bowls and drink into cups.

Gund sat in between Halfi and Urum Brann, feasting on a plate of roasted pheasant stuffed with onions and fennel, and drinking deeply from a mug of iced caramel milk. His king and queen were sharing a plate of tender snowlion haunch which they washed down with a flagon of Halfi's favorite hot cider. The steam from the cider smelled of lemons and honey, mingling in Gund's nostrils with the savory aroma of his fowl. Musicians from both kingdoms were pitting their talents in a spirited cacophony. High Alden’s citterns, bagpipes and whistles were dueling with dwarven flutes, dulcimers and cellos. A storm of sweeping reels reigned over the air, while laughter and speech and raucous shouts joined in chorus to the drumming feet of dancers. On the far end of the table, Balvor and Idana hovered close to each other, whispering and laughing together in a world apart from everyone else. Gund imagined the din of the feast was no more than a muffled cry to the newly wedded couple.

“To us bachelors!” Dennel shouted from across Gund, standing and holding his flagon high. Urum stood on the bench and met Dennel’s flagon with his. Red wine spilled like blood from both men's cups.

Gund looked curiously at Urum’s wine when he sat back down. “When in Solstice,” Urum said. Gund nodded. He knew Grar did the same, drinking ales and wines when meeting with emissaries of the other kins. When in Solstice, he thought. The last time he and Grar travelled to Solstice, the world had been reasonably at peace. He remembered feasting in the Tower of Six, watching as Verrold Arcadia introduced his young boys to an adolescent Woten'Ku Netherclaw, decades before the massive orc became known as the King of Graves. Now, the City of Promise was a barren hovel of memories and wind where armies met to plan secret campaigns.

Dennel leaned across the table and looked at Urum. “Can you feel it?” he asked, his words running together.

Urum looked at his wine and shook his head. “I’d need something far stronger.”

“And here it is!” Ror had come behind them with a small keg under one arm, and a load of tall mugs in the other hand. He set the keg atop a mostly cleared meat platter and passed the mugs to all the dwarves. Gund could smell the red rum on the young prince’s breath as he leaned over him to hand out the mugs.

“Now,” Ror said loudly, “where’s my human princess? Cara! I’ll have that dance now.”

Cara smiled sheepishly as Ror lead her through the herd of dancers. Now and then Gund would see her head poking over the heads of the dancing dwarves, and she seemed at least to be enjoying herself. Past the dancers, people gathered along the walls to escape the noise of the floor and the heat of the cooking trophs. He saw his nephew conversing with Halfur. For once since his return, Buri seemed at ease. It made Gund glad to see.

“Speaking of Solstice,” he heard Salimod say, “the wind in the willows is that the Bladedancer has called for a mustering of all the elflords. They are riding to Solstice this very moment.”

“I wonder who Meromis plans to sharpen his steel on,” said Urum.

A woman shrieked nearby. Gund turned and saw that it was Idana. She held her face in her hands and Balvor was laughing hard enough to cry. Idana took a hand off her face to strike him playfully.

“If he had any sense,” slurred Dennel, “he’d be warring on those goblins.”

Gund saw Grar look up from his haunch of snowlion and look directly to Dennel, then to Salimod. “How do you know?” he asked.

Salimod dabbed his mouth with a napkin, then took a measured sip of his wine. “I have a man lodging in the servant’s camp outside. He has contacts throughout the continent, and I gave him orders to keep me abreast of things whilst we enjoy your hospitality.”

“Tell me of your man,” said Grar. “He must be adept at his craft. The elves are riding at night, and using the silent word only. And the goblins are marching under cover of the Starwood on the east side of the mountain.”

Dennel raised one of the mugs Ror had set on the table. “Nawkshee Shpeejen Nawkshee! Gobblen mershenry ekshtrordanair! Annd a good friend to thish here knight.”

Urum reached across the table and took the keg in his hands, then lifted it and set it on the floor between him and Gund.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

“Awww,” Dennel protested, “greedy little dwarfss! C’mon, share yer treashure fer wunsh!”

Gund and Urum laughed.

“Hey!” Dennel was looking toward Balvor. He pointed with a shaky hand. “Hey, your Dread Highnesh, can you make me one of them speshel necklishes?”

“Ser Dennel,” Salimod said sternly.

Dennel snapped upright. “Apologies, Your Grace,” his voice was unsteady as he strained to speak clearly. “I’ll excuse myself.”

The table was silent as Dennel rose and left. He made his way clumsily toward the wall. Midway there, he almost fell over, then looked down and around his feet and shouted angrily at a shadow.

Another woman shrieked. It sounded like Idana, but when Gund looked her way he saw her space on the bench was empty, then spotted her and Balvor sneaking out of the Great Hall. The woman shrieked again. Gund turned his head and saw Ror dipping Cara almost to the floor. Her face was alight with joy. Gund laughed softly to himself and shook his head.

“Your Grace,” he heard Halfi say. He turned his head toward his King and Queen.

“Yes, my Queen?” Salimod said to Halfi.

Gund’s Queen stood and held out her hand.

“I demand a dance,” she said, “in payment for our hospitality.”

Salimod smiled, rose and bowed low. “It shall be my great honor, Dread Majesty.”

“He can handle himself smoothly,” Gund said quietly to Urum, “when he doesn’t reach past his grasp.”

Urum nodded. “I think Dennel’s outburst disarmed him. He hoped to impress us with his spywork, and his drunken knight revealed he’s only bartering for information with the Grim Whimsey. And I doubt he even knows the Whimsey’s who he’s bartering with. Their spies are top tier. Very adept at laying hidden within their target’s ranks for long periods of time.”

“I’m rather impressed with Ror,” said Gund, “indebting their commander the way he did.”

Urum laughed as he set the keg back on the table. “You know who’s idea that really was, don’t you?”

“Not his?”

Urum shook his head as he filled his and Gund’s mugs from the keg. “It was Halfur’s suggestion. I was there listening to them, though they didn’t know. It was Halfur’s idea to keep the tale a secret as well.”

“So Ror didn’t stumble upon Ridzak dying in the wild?”

“No,” Urum smiled thinly after sipping his liquor. “This Noxi fellow Dennel mentioned, he’s known to the Spymancer Guild. He has a twin brother named Spetzni. They’re both expert sleeper agents, and work in tandem on the Whimsey’s tougher jobs. Before you ask, I’ve never told you because they’ve never been a threat to us. Anyhaps, somehow our young princes caught wind of some information that I hadn’t, and Halfur had a notion, a brilliant one at that. The Bladedancer had learned of the brothers Spijun making off with some sensitive documents, the usual tale. Meromis, in his wisdom, ignored them and went for their leader. He set a trap that Ridzak Gurgu Driggz could not refuse, caught him, and ordered him to be hanged from one the tallest igdrus trees in the Starwood. From one of the lower boughs, of course, but it showed his ire towards the goblin. As I understand it, Halfur urged Ror to find a way to save him, and use his gratitude to curry favors.”

“And how did Ror pull it off?”

“That, old friend, is a mystery still. I don’t think Halfur even knows. Ror probably played it off as a stroke of luck. That boy doesn’t like people knowing how clever he truly is.”

“I wonder if Halfur expected Ror and Driggz to become such close companions.”

“I wasn’t surprised, myself. Ror has a gift for winning people’s hearts.”

Urum’s words echoed in Gund’s mind as he watched Ror spinning Cara around the hall. His eyes then drifted to his nephew.

“Gund,” said Grar.

“Dread Sovereign?” Gund turned and began to stand. Grar had risen, along with Yselde.

“Yselde and I grow jealous of our spouses and are going to dance. Will you find my brother? He has no excuse to be absent anymore and I’m angry that he is.”

“I think he and Idana were eager to…”

“Not him,” said Grar, “Lobuhl. He’s been missing since before the wedding. I want him here.”