It was no small thing that Mura-Fah’s attention had been pulled away from her work. The other dwarves regarded her as especially focused and perhaps even obsessed with her craft. Among the other races, it was said that every dwarf toiled endlessly in the pursuit of refining their skills, for dwarves greatly valued building great things. This was true, however, dwarves also greatly valued the building of a strong society. Mura-Fah had missed many gatherings and feasts at the great hall in order to bring her projects to completion.
During her earlier years, she had been praised for her work ethic. As she grew older, her solitude began to be taken as disdain for her community, village, and kin. This was simply not true. Mura-Fah held no disdain for any of these things. She in fact, hardly thought of them at all. When tools were in her hands and a task was set before her she thought of nothing else. She was almost able to enjoy blissful ignorance of the distaste her fellow dwarves had for her, almost.
So it truly was no small thing that her attention had been pulled away from her work. It had been the children running past her shop’s window shouting that a troll was coming. Troll attacks this far up in the mountains were not uncommon. Most times when they occurred Mura-Fah had worked through the skirmishes, trusting that the guard would take care of them. But the children had not been shouting in a manner that betrayed fear. They shouted as if playing a game and every dwarf child knew that if they should cry “troll!” in jest they would be punished severely. Dwarves had been bitter enemies with Trolls for centuries. She looked up from her workbench to see what they were running from. It was then that she saw the rock troll.
Never before had a living thing intrigued her so. It was partly the way it walked. It was walking for one, trolls this close to a dwarvish village typically charged. Each step he took seemed like it had been carefully considered beforehand. Its unassuming demeanor must have been the only reason it hadn’t yet been attacked as it walked through the front gate. Even so, it was fortunate that so few were walking the street at this moment. It was only the children, peering at it from around a corner, ready to run should the legends of trolls prove true.
It was partly the way it dressed. The people of Mura-Fah’s village weren’t rich. The short buildings were extremely modest, bland, and weathered. In this respect, the troll truly stood out, not because it was savage, but because it was civilized. Someone had tailored an elvish-styled suit for the thing. Furthermore, the creature had actually managed to stretch the fine cloths of the suit around its jagged rocky body.
Mura-Fah felt compelled to go out and meet it before the guards arrived. Trolls and dwarves were bitter enemies. The troll must have politely ignored the two troll skulls which adorned the gateway into the village. She stepped out of her shop into the snow. She wore the purple and gold robe of a dwarvish tinker. It was covered in elaborate designs as well as grease stains and tears. Her dirty brown hair was tied up in a bun. She kept her beard shaved but it was starting to grow back. Mura-Fah cautiously began to walk down the street. The children briefly took their eyes off the troll to take in Mura-Fah as she passed. To them, it was almost as odd to see her outside her shop as it was to see a peaceful rock troll. The troll seemed to be inspecting the architecture of one of the houses a little ways away from Mura-Fah. It stopped to observe her as she came closer. As she walked up to him Mura-Fah could hardly believe she was being made to feel underdressed by a rock troll.
“Greetings,” she said in the common tongue.
“Greetings to you as well,” said the Troll in near-perfect dwarvish. “The weather is quite agreeable this day is it not?” Even though every word he said felt just as methodically selected as his steps Mura-Fah was still taken aback by them. She had never before heard the guttural consonants of the dwarvish tongue spoken so masterfully by a non-dwarf.
“I suppose it is,” she said. “A little cold for my taste.”
“Yes you are right,” He said. “However, Trolls do quite well in the cold.” The Troll stared off into the clouds momentarily before he seemed to come to himself. “I apologize. I should have introduced myself, I am Mikula. What would your name be?”
“I’m…Mura-Fah.” She was surprised that she had been apologized to by a Troll. “Your dwarvish is incredible.”
“Thank you.” Mikula’s jagged facial features made a warmer expression. Mura-Fah noted that it likely had taken some practice to make such a rocky face appear friendly. “What do you do here in Mura-Fah?” he asked.
“I’m an official tinker of Bru-Tah,” she said with some pride. “I work with tools to construct useful things…and I improve things that aren’t so useful. What do you do?”
“Whatever my master requires.”
“Was it your master that made that suit for you?”
“Yes indeed. Each of his servants must be dressed well,” Mikula chuckled and gestured at the jagged stone digits of his left hand. “He would never allow an exception simply because of my…complexion.” Mura-Fah grinned at his joke but didn’t laugh. “An official tinker you said?” he continued. “I am surprised that a dwarf whom the city of Bru-Tah approves of is speaking to me so peaceably and that she is out here in this humble village”
“You’re surprised? I’m surprised that you made it past the gate.” She looked around the village once again. She could no longer see the children that had been watching them. I hope they haven’t run to get a guard, she thought. I’d like to speak with this troll a little longer. She turned back to him. “As for living out here, I’m not exactly a model dwarf. But I’m very good at what I do. They can’t ignore that.”
“Certainly such skill should not be ignored,” said Mikula. “It is a pleasure to meet you Mura-Fah.”
“You’re a strange person Mikula.”
“My master enjoys working with strange people,” said Mikula with a grin.
“What does your master have you doing all the way out here?”
“He has sent me to find another such strange person.”
“A dwarf?”
“Yes indeed.”
“Your master sent a troll to find a dwarf?” said Mura-Fah with a playful grin. “I assume you’ve had some trouble.”
“Not really. I was given excellent instructions.” Mikula paused for a moment. “Mura Fah, I would like to ask you a few questions.” Mikula started walking down the street further into the town. Mura-Fah found herself following him.
He’d better ask quickly, she thought. Any minute now someone else is going to spot him. “What is it you’d like to ask me?” she asked out loud.
“Have you any family out here?”
“No,” she said coldly. “My parents and siblings live in the hub city of Bru-Tah.”
“All your family lives in Bru-Tah and yet, you are here. Do you particularly like this village?” Mikula asked innocently. Mura-Fah let out a long sigh before answering.
“As I said before, I’m not a model dwarf. I wasn’t popular among the other tinkers in Bru-Tah. They…strongly encouraged me to take up shop out here. As for this village, I suppose it’s not so bad…well, I wouldn’t know really. I spend most of my time in my shop.” After she had finished saying this Mikula stopped abruptly and Mura-Fah almost bumped into him. She realized he had stopped right outside her shop. The stone foundation was crumbling and the blue paint on the wooden walls had almost peeled off entirely. A wooden sign reading “Mura-Fah’s Machinations” had once been held upright by two chains but now only one remained in place and the sign swung sideways to the left of the door.
“It is a lovely shop,” said Mikula. Mura-Fah scanned his face for any trace of insincerity and to her surprise found none.
“No it isn’t!” she said. “It’s a dismal worn-down shop! But It brings in plenty of coin! Do you know why?”
“Tell me.”
“Not because the outside is ‘lovely’ but because the work that gets done on the inside is the best in the region!”
“I know,” said Mikula.
“You know?”
“That is why I am here actually,” he said. “I have come to seek out your services. There is something that needs doing that my master believes only you can do Mura-Fah.” Before Mura-Fah could form a response she heard the familiar clink of dwarven chainmail from around the street corner. Guards were coming.
“Let’s discuss this inside!” she said.
“Very we–.” Mikula was interrupted as he was hastily ushered inside Mura-Fah’s shop. Mikula barely fit. He had to crouch uncomfortably low to fit under the doorway but in the end, he made it.
“You’ve known who I was the whole time?” said Mura-Fah.
“Not the whole time, not until you introduced yourself.”
“Have there been any questions you’ve asked you didn’t already know the answer to?”
“I was not aware of your family situation. I did know the circumstances of your placement here”
“Why the deception?
“There are few who would accept what I will ask of you.”
“How much does it pay?”
“Fifty silver pieces to start.”
“To start?”
“My master may like to work with you again should this first job prove satisfactory.”
“You know there are guards outside. They’re probably looking for you,” said Mura-Fah.
“I expected that they might come.”
“If they find you they aren’t likely to be friendly to you. If they think I’m hiding you they aren’t going to be kind to me either.”
“They are already unkind to you.” There was a loud knocking on the door of Mura-Fah’s shop. The two kept their eyes locked on one another.
“Mura-Fah! Open up!” shouted a gruff voice from outside.
“You’re certain that will be enough?” said Mura-Fah without turning.
“I am certain of nothing. I am at your mercy now,” said Mikula. Mura-Fah continued to stare at Mikula for a brief moment before turning and opening the door just a crack.
“What? What do you wan–” Mura-Fah paused when she saw the human. Four dwarvish guards were standing outside as well as one human legionnaire of Malgiliri. It was a concession made after the fall of Aquum that some human soldiers of the imperium be allowed to patrol dwarven lands. The dwarvish guards wore simple ringmail and bronze helmets. The legionnaire wore armor with plates of iron and an ornate bronze mask made in the shape of a human skull.
“Someone said they saw a rock troll wandering into town,” grumbled one of the dwarf guards in the dwarvish tongue. “They thought they also saw you walking the streets around the same time.”
“I wasn’t,” said Mura-Fah coldly. “I haven’t heard the sounds of destruction that typically follow a troll and I’m rarely outside my shop. It seems someone saw two unlikely things.”
“What did she say?” asked the human legionnaire in the common tongue. The dwarf guard turned and replied in kind.
“She said she hasn’t seen anything, but we’re not done speaking with her.”
“Speak in common!” demanded the human. At this, the dwarves visibly bristled.
“You have no right to demand such a thing,” said the dwarf guard calmly.
“The treaty of Bru-Tah reads–”
“The treaty of Bru-Tah does NOT forbid us from our language!” shouted the dwarf guard. A brief argument began between them. For a moment Mura-Fah felt relieved. At least they weren’t focusing on her. Then she saw the children. The three dwarf children that had been watching Mikula earlier were huddled in an alleyway across the street. They were walking toward the guards and looked as if they intended to say something. For a moment Mura-Fah’s heart stopped.
Was it them who reported these things? she thought. Will they give me away now? As the children began to cross the street the legionnaire noticed them out of the corner of his eye. He violently turned away from the argument to face them. He was breathing quickly in anger. His hand was on the hilt of his shortsword. His eyes were hidden in the shadow behind his skull mask.
“What!?” he shouted. The children shrunk back in fear. They stepped back a few steps before turning and running off. “Foolish children,” muttered the legionnaire. He turned back to Mura-Fah. She swallowed.
“You’re wasting my time!” she said, in common, trying to conjure indignation. “I’ve many projects I must complete! Do you have any more questions?”
“No,” said the dwarf guard begrudgingly. He was also speaking the common tongue. “Keep an eye out for any rock trolls though. The legions have been looking for one said to be traveling in the region.” The guards shuffled off the porch of her shop and began walking down the street toward the next house. Mura-Fah shut the door and caught her breath.
“You handled that very well,” said Mikula. Mura-Fah looked up at him.
“Sixty silver pieces,” she said.
“Pardon?”
“The Imperium’s looking for you. I wonder what they’ll give me if I turn you in,” she said with a smile.
“Ahh. A haggler,” Mikula grinned. “Very well, sixty silver pieces.”
“Good,” she said. “Now what’s this job that only I can do?”
“You are tasked with repairing this,” Mikula reached into a bag hung around his chest and pulled out a small ornate box. The box was made of wood. It was stained to be a shade of deep red and had bronze engravings all across its surface. Mura-Fah gently took it from Mikula’s massive hands. She opened the lid, which revealed intricate metal machinery inside.
“What is it?” she asked.
“It is an elvish music box,” Mikula said. “I’m told it holds an ancient song which few remember, but it no longer plays.”
“Your master couldn’t find an elvish workman to fix this?”
“In the south, the Imperium…discourages elvish artisans from maintaining their own shops.”
“Ahh,” said Mura-Fah. “Why couldn’t another dwarf do the job?”
“My master believed only an official tinker of Bru-Tah would have the skill and that no other official tinker but you would be willing to help us. Especially considering that the item would be delivered by a troll.”
“Your master couldn’t come himself?”
“He is currently occupied with another matter and will be for some time,” said Mikula. Mura-Fah looked over the box and its delicate metal workings.
“Dwarvish creations are typically built more sturdy,” she said while turning it over. “I’ve never worked with something so delicate before. It won’t be easy.” She thought a moment longer before looking back up at Mikula. “I’ll do it,” she said.
*****
“Is there any way I can be of help?” Mikula asked.
“You can remain quiet,” said Mura-Fah without looking up from her workbench. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She had spent the first hour determining how the device was meant to function at all. She had spent the second discovering why it didn’t work properly now. Finally, she was closing in on the solution.
“Darn elves always need everything to be so pretty,” she muttered under her breath. She didn’t think about whether Mikula might take offense at this. She wasn’t thinking about him at all. She was working, a task that had fully engaged her heart and soul for most of the waking hours she had lived. At first, Mikula struggled to find a comfortable position inside the dwarf-sized shop. He quickly found that if he sat on the floor, his head would only just brush against the ceiling.
Mura-Fah had deduced that a single piece of the device had been broken and knocked loose. She quickly diagrammed the piece and the parts it interacted with. The next challenge was crafting a replacement part. Mura-Fah spent the next little while rushing to her forge and then back to her workbench as she slowly hammered out a fitting substitution for the broken part. The part was incredibly complex. The first iteration failed to fit into place. At least twenty minutes of work had been wasted on it. She spent the next thirty perfecting her second attempt. This piece slipped into place but as she tried to reassemble the device, she found her replacement part prevented a separate piece from operating.
She would not allow herself to fail yet again, not while striving against the machinations of elves. She spent a long while simply staring at and visualizing the inner workings of the machine once again before her third attempt. The world faded around her and only the metalwork remained. She heard only the clang of her hammer as it struck. She felt only the heat of the forge. At long last, the pieces fit together seamlessly. Only she could have spotted her addition among the original apparatus.
“All done!” Mura-Fah held out the box with one hand and wiped her brow of sweat with the other. It didn’t seem to Mura-Fah that Mikula had slept at all in the last several hours. Still, he hadn’t moved a muscle since he had gotten comfortable. He almost seemed to rise out of the stone wall itself as he perked up.
“Wonderful.” He reached out a sizable hand to take the box from the dwarf. “May I?” he asked. Receiving a nod from Mura-Fah, he carefully plucked the box from her grasp. He lifted the lid open ever so slightly. The song contained within began to play. It was a sweet, almost lyrical melody. The tune seemed like it had been written to be joyful. Somehow it made Mura-Fah feel somber. She felt that the words to this melody had been long forgotten, remembered only by the dead. Mikula shut the box and began to get to his feet.
“Wonderful. Just as beautiful as I remember. Will this be enough for your work?” Mikula dropped three gold coins into Mura-Fah’s hands. Their weight almost caused her to drop them. For a moment Mura-Fah was entranced by the gold’s beauty.
“…What? No! This is too much!” She tried to shove two of the coins back into Mikula’s pouch. The troll easily resisted her as she could barely reach his pouch anyway. “We agreed on sixty silver! You can’t flaunt this kind of money here. You’re certain to get robbed!” she said.
“It’s far less than what was paid to build it I am sure. Besides, I have traveled alone for some time,” he said. Mikula closed Mura-Fah’s hands over the coins. The troll lumbered over to the doorway and crouched under it. Back in the open, he rose to his full height and stretched his massive arms. “I have yet to be robbed,” he said. Mura-Fah absentmindedly walked up to the threshold of her shop, her gaze again fixed on the coins. She came to herself and quickly looked both ways down the street. Snow was falling more heavily now. The cold seemed to be keeping everyone in. “No sign of any guards,” said Mikula. He turned back to Mura-Fah. “Thank you for your help. I hope you have a wonderful day.”
“You’re leaving? Just like that?”
“You could come along if you like.”
“Come with you, really?”
“I believe you did very well with this first task. My recommendation will mean a great deal to my master. There is more work for you in the south of Aquum if you want it.”
“But,” Mura-Fah trailed off. She thought of all the reasons she shouldn’t go. Most of them didn’t seem adequate. Finally, she found one that felt worth bringing up. “My shop…”
“I believe my master could provide one which would be slightly more expansive,” Mikula replied. The two of them stood in the snow silently for a moment.
“I…I can’t,” said Mura-Fah. Mikula sighed in disappointment.
“Very well. It was a pleasure to meet you Mura-Fah. Perhaps my master will send me here again for some other task. Though maybe not. It is getting increasingly difficult to travel in the Imperium’s lands. Goodbye and have a wonderful day.” Mikula turned and began lumbering toward the town gate. Mura-Fah watched Mikula for a time. All the while she was second-guessing her decision. She was not the kind to make hasty decisions, but part of her wanted so badly to go with the troll. She felt a nagging curiosity within her about all that going with him could mean. She didn’t immensely enjoy her life here, but that didn’t mean she would so easily throw it all away. She looked back into her shop. Inside, there were many tools that could be quickly packed for travel. However, she could never pack her forge. She looked out after Mikula again. In a few minutes, he would be out of sight. In a few hours, his tracks would be hidden by fresh snow and she might very well never see him again. She looked back into the shop and then back after Mikula once more…
“Blast it!” she said before running back into the shop to pack her things.