We were less than a day from the entrance to the lair of the Dwarves when the arguments started. It was inevitable, I suppose. The enormity of the task that lay ahead was just starting to dawn upon us.

"There are two entrances to the realms of the dwarves" said Middaeg. "The main entrance lies just ahead. But we can travel a few hours more and make our way to a rear entrance where it will be less guarded. Either way, they will not give up the Blood Stone willingly. We can expect a fight."

"Are the dwarves an honourable people?" I asked

"They are" responded Middaeg.

When Faelsian forced us to swear an oath to retrieve the Blood Stone, we were under the impression that the dwarves would give up the stone willingly, or at least for trade of goods. Now, we faced a completely different prospect. A bloody thirsty fight against an honourable clan of dwarves was more than I could stomach. I suspect some of my companions felt the same way.

We stood and argued on the side of the mountain for some time. Opinions varied on how best to handle the situation. Both Godmund and Gwynaeth seemed adament that we would do best to be honest about our intentions. Aelwyn and myself felt that this would lead us nowhere. And then the argument turned to whether we should approach from the front or the rear, with Gwynaeth and Aelwyn on either side of the argument. Godmund, Middaeg and I stood there watching as the two women both attempted to assert their authority like children in the playground. Somehow, an agreement was eventually reached and we made our way to the entrance.

The Dwarven Kingdom

We had not been camped at the mouth of the cave for very long when we encountered the dwarves. Quietly they came, emerging from the the darkness of the cave. We called out to them, but they did not seem to understand our language. Instead they simply motioned for us to follow. And we did. They took us deep into the belly of the mountains, throughout a winding maze of tunnels. Eventually the natural cave gave way to carved walls and stone floors as we moved deeper into the dwarvish lair. With no natural light to guide us, time seemed to almost stand still. We made our way down a winding staircase that opened into some kind of antechamber. There, one of our guides motioned for us to wait while he disappeared through one of the numerous doorways.

As we waited, we examined the antechamber and the elaborate tapestries that hung from every wall. One of the tapestries depicted an image of a human fighting over a carved staff with a dwarf. Faelsian? We had already learned from Middaeg that Faelsian discovered the secrets of magic from the dwarves. The tapestry suggested that the dwarves did not give up their secrets willingly. It is clear they are not friends of the sorcerer, confirming our suspicions that they were unlikely to give up the Blood Stone.

After waiting a while, we were ushered into some kind of hall. An old dwarf with a long salt and pepper beard entered and joined us at a long wooden table.

“I am Storm” he said solemnly. Unlike some of the others, he spoke our language.

We introduced ourselves in turn and then Aelwyn explained our situation. She told the Storm the entire truth, including the oath to Faelsian and our intention to take the Blood Stone. She also asked him if there was some way to break the oath.

“The oath is bound by the Gods themselves. It is not easily broken.” mused Storm.

We discussed the matter for some time. We have no quarrel with the dwarves and no loyalty toward Faelsian. We agreed, with the exception of Middaeg, that we had no desire to try and fulfil the oath. Storm interrupted;

“If the oath is not fulfilled within three years and three days, it will be lifted. The Gods will be angry and there will be punishment, but it will not be significant.”

“We can just go home?” I asked.

“No” replied Storm. “The oath will not allow you to leave empty handed. But you are welcome to live amongst us for the duration. As long as you do not attempt to take the Blood Stone, of course.”