The lush green forest appears tranquil to those unfamiliar with the area. The forest’s greenery, however, hides its true nature from strangers. Very few find this place, that is if you make it in safely, you will see homes and canopies filled with huts that are hanging from strong trees. This land felt as though it was located at the edge of the world which had never been once explored before. The land of Asteria is vast, this is just a small part of what seems so large. This is where some dwarves reside. Green Archer Wood is the official name of this area, but to those familiar with the area, it is just known as the Greenlands. Several dwarves can be seen training to fight anyone who comes their way. The throwing of axes, bow and arrows fly askew, and swords being bashed against wooden practice dolls. It is very rare to find a dwarf studying or reading. After training, dwarves tend to have a drink and start a campfire as they sing their favorite songs of their land.

Even some female dwarves who are seen as worthy, join the dwarf men in practice and drinking.

Dwarves are scattered throughout the area due to the high population of them. Some dwarves reside in the mountains, others in villages and some who are not even able to be traced. Dwarves are not very peaceful creatures though, they are very defensive when it comes to their home and will attack those they are not familiar with. Only trusted allies can enter their spaces and even then, some are met with suspicion. It was a typical day for our dwarves, one dwarf in particular liked to rile up some of the other dwarves; Winthorp Cvorkin. Winthorp was fifty years young and had the spirit of a rowdy bull. Winthorp was usually seen with his best friend, Gabusmead Torvald. Gabusmead was one of the very few dwarves that studied, enjoyed reading and research, he was seen as strange, but his heart was something pure of gold. Winthorp didn’t mind this about Gabusmead and found that his research was very vital to all of them. Winthorp liked to challenge other dwarves to strength challenges and play games with the other dwarves. His playful nature was something that usually landed him trouble, which under normal circumstances would be overlooked, but Winthorp’s father was the head of the dwarves.

Winthorp’s father, Bilgard Cvorkin, took his protection of the clan very seriously and hoped his son would set a better example. Winthorp’s brother, Cobble Cvorkin, was the son who took watching the clan very seriously in hopes his father would notice his efforts. Usually Winthorp caused such a ruckus, that his father had to give him attention over Cobble. This caused some strain in the family that Winthorp chose to ignore. As the day grew to noon, this is when Winthorp decided to roll out of his chambers. He was usually the only one up around this time because the others would be up by dawn to train. Winthorp also starts his day with his favorite drink, honeymeade. The mead dribbled down his red beard and he wiped his hairy hand against his mouth to wipe away the liquid. He let out a sigh of delight after having a swig and went outside.

Winthorp strolled around the area and noticed his brother Cobble, reading over a scroll discussing their father’s whereabouts. Winthorp slapped his brother’s back as hard as he could and started to bellow in laughter knowing this would annoy his brother.

“Cobbles! What ye be doin with that there paper you got there?”

“Please do not call me Cobbles, we are no longer children. This is father’s report, he is com-”

Cobble was soon interrupted by his brother’s babbling.

“Aye, would ye relax brother! Loosen up! Have a drink! Always so stiff ye are! Father is comin’ home and he will be fine!”

“Excuse me brother, I do not wish to join a fool in his folly. It’s childish. Now if you will pardon me, I need to make sure the hunting party is ready.”

Cobble walked away from his brother disgusted and with some spiked annoyance. Winthorp watched his brother walk away and he laughed it off. It was all Winthorp could do and with this, he decided to go find his best friend. Winthorp chatted with the people in his village and made faces at the children to make them laugh. Winthorp’s demeanor may have seemed reckless to many, but he truly cared for everyone in the village. Winthorp climbed up the strong oak trees with the vines splayed about and once he made it half-way up the oak tree, he had arrived. Smoke was brewing out of Gabusmead’s chimney; this meant that he was making something.

Without any warning, Winthorp burst through the wooden door and was met with a stunned Gabusmead.

“Winthorp! Please! I have told ye not to come in, in such a blunder! I am developing some healing herbs for those in the village!”

“Gabus, it’s a blunder to think I would just come in quietly!”

Both of them looked at one another and their laughter filled the house. Gabusmead Torvald was also fifty years young, he had jet black hair and his beard was not as long as the other dwarves in the village. He wore light clothes made of animal leather. Gabusmead wasn’t originally from this village in particular, he is one of the dwarves who lives in the mountains. Many moon cycles ago, Gabusmead’s father is the one who instructed Bilgard to take his son to train since he refused in the mountains. Gabusmead’s father instructed that if he does not wish to train, he is not allowed to return to the mountains. Gabusmead has resided in the village since due to Bilgard not minding that Gabusmead develops herbs to heal those in the village.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“You developin another nasty bitter drink thar? I don’t know why we need this stuff. Can’t we just bleed it out and be fine?” Gabusmead chuckled a bit and began to smash more herbs to put into his boiling cauldron.

“Winthorp, this here is a healing herb potion. You cannot just bleed out, you have to apply herbs or drink them to heal ya up so it doesn’t get infected and you get sick, or worse, die.”

“Aye, I would probably rather die with pride than drink that stuff!”

Both dwarves laughed and then suddenly, the tone seemed to shift as if they were swept with rapid despair.

“Me dad is returning during thee sunset. I wonder what he will blubber about this time.” Silence hung heavy in the air for a while until Gabumead finally broke it.

“You know Winthorp, I know your dad wants you to be the head of our village and I think you would do a mighty fine job at it.” Winthrop had a stern look on his face and his mood had soured.

“I know me dad wants me to be leader an’ all, but I don’t feel like I could be this big serious leader. Why don’t ye have Cobble run it? He is the serious one.” Gabusmead shrugged indifferently and continued to rack his brain for an answer that his friend would accept.

“Well, for starters, your kind Winthorp. You bring a light to this village, you make people forget that life isn’t all just about battling and protecting. I know dwarves are not keen on sharing their feelings, but I also felt a sense of fear for a long time here. You remind people to laugh a little, ya know?”

Winthrop looked up at Gabusmead and a grin slowly formed on his face. Suddenly, he lunged at his friend, wrapping him in a playful headlock, aggressively rubbing his knuckles on his head as Gabusmead struggled to break free from his friend’s grasp. A moment later they both burst into laughter, easing the tension that had weighed on Winthorp’s mood. “You have such big words, ye do! Don’t know how a girl will put up with ya or understand ya!” Gabusmead gently punched Winthorp’s shoulder in a playful manner. “Alright, I was just comin up to check on ya. I have to go make sure Cobble is keeping the peace down thar. See ya in a wee bit.” After waving at one another, Winthorp made his journey back down the oak tree and noticed a bit of a fight down below. Even halfway down the tree, Winthorp heard booming voices yelling at one another and one of which was his brothers. Winthorp starts to increase his speed down the tree to go see if his brother needs help or to stop his brother. Almost down the tree, Winthorp got his foot caught in a branch and began to tumble down the tree.

With a slam onto the green fields, Winthorp was a little dazed, but he rushed to the scene of the yelling. Cobble was arguing with another dwarf in the village and Winthorp felt he had to intervene to keep the peace.

“Aye, aye, aye! What are ye lot on about?” Cobble looked at his brother with disapproval and scowled. “Stay out of this, I have it under control. I just feel we need to increase our training schedule-”

The dwarf arguing with Cobble grew red in the face and his fury flew out of his mouth, spit flying about when he spoke. “You don’t think we train enough? Do ye have any idea what we do? We wake up at the first sight of sun everyday! Then before the sun goes down, we stop! We train sun up and down! And ye tellin’ us we don’t train enough!?”

“I just think if you lot trained a bit harder instead of having these silly parties at night, you would be equipped for a real disaster!” Cobble looked at the red faced dwarf with extreme disdain and turned away from him.

“You buffoons are drunk half the time you train. You may train at sun up, but during the middle of the day, I see a lot of you on your asses drinking away. This is the sign of being a lazy lot! All of ye!”

Once Cobble said these words, the red faced dwarf ran toward him, fists swinging and Winthorp stepped in to stop him from hitting his brother.

“Aye mate, don’t let him get to ye. Ye know your efforts and how hard ye work. Let this one go lad.” The red face faded from the dwarf and he was back to his usual skin tone. He turned around and stormed off in the other direction, no longer wanting to waste his breath. Winthorp turned to his brother, preparing himself to talk to his brother who had an intense sense of stubbornness.

“Cobbles, you cannot talk to people here like that. Why do you want to increase training? Ye have people collaspin’.”

“Do not call me Cobbles, we are no longer fresh from the womb; Winthorp. These blundering idiots, all they do is train fer a few and then drink. If we are under attack at some point and father is not here, none of us will be safe with a bunch of drunkards.”

Winthorp clenched his fist until the whites in his knuckles were showing. Winthorp couldn’t understand his brother’s logic because Winthorp viewed everyone here as one big family. For his brother to feel the complete opposite, made Winthorp feel this unsettling rage.

“Oh and Winthorp, your buddy or whatever you two are, better stop fiddling around with his potions up there. He is the weakest of the lot of these buffoons. He may be smart, but he’s an idiot in a different way.”

Winthorp lost control of his body and soon after his actions, he shoved his brother into a grassy patch of green. All Cobble did was laugh which irritated Winthorp more and Winthorp grabbed his brother by the collar of his garb. Cobble had a blank expression on his face, his eyes seemed to resonate some kind of evil.

“Foolish brother, always thinking with your heart and not your head. Put me down you oaf.”

Winthorp, still gripping the collar of his brother’s garb, gently started to loosen his grip. Cobble formed a slow grin on his face and with this, Winthorp decided to land a punch as hard as he could at his brother. Blood began to pour out of his brother’s mouth and trickled onto his lips. Blood was seeping through Cobble’s teeth and the taste of metal soon filled his mouth.

“Brother thinking with ye hart, is the only way to live yer life. Once ye accept others with an open hart, yer guaranteed to have more by ye side.”

A presence that gave both the dwarves a chill up their spine stood near them. Something that neither of them were expecting so suddenly. A mythical creature dominated their presence; it was something neither dwarf had seen before. It had the body of a dragon, but the legs and ears of a rabbit. It had sharp beady red eyes and fur covered its body. It had gorgeous silky white fur with spikes sticking out on its back. Its tail was a huge puff of cotton and despite its size, it landed gently on the ground not bringing harm to anyone. It knelt its head down in front of the dwarves and a small figure began to trot down it. The dwarves were shocked, but knelt down on one knee and bowed.

“Hello boys, I have returned from me journey.”

It was none other than the warrior and head of their village, Bilgard Cvorkin. Their father had returned just in what felt like the perfect time.