I am fairly certain that the word "Dwarrow" is going to change. It has been used by someone else, somewhere, and I wish to have my own word. Also, historically, it is an alternate form of the word "dwarf". I will one day think of my own word...
Gerold was a Dwarrow, and as such had little time for the scattered, meandering babble of Seraph merchants. A Dwarrow liked short, to-the-point conversations; just enough to get business done. The Dwarrow attitude matched his stature: in a word, short. They were slight of build, but possessed of a wiry musculature attached to a sturdy frame. The combination made their appearance somewhat skeletal, but not frail. Add to this their characteristic bright red skin, and their nickname, ‘fiend’, might seem to fit. They had no hair, and their eyes were uniformly black. Fond of tattoos, it was rare to find a Dwarrow with clear, untouched skin.
Even for a Dwarrow, Gerold was impatient. He disliked most non-dwarrow folk, not because of any sort of feeling of superiority; rather he felt them too gregarious, too talkative, entirely too noisy. Add to that the impression that other folk seemed to get little more done than the nice, quiet Dwarrow, and Gerold really preferred to stay home in the hills of his ancestors, where strange people were rarely seen.
Needless to say, when Gerold was informed that the tribal council needed him to travel downriver to the town of Gate Island, right in the middle of the Freesteads, he could not have been more dismayed. No amount of protestation was enough to convince the council of nine old women to send someone else. He even suggested a few names, to no avail. So, it was with great trepidation and annoyance that Gerold Deepdigger, chief tunnel engineer of the Southtend tribe in the Hills of the Well, found himself floating in a canoe with two other similarly disgruntled Dwarrows, approaching Gate Island from the west.
Gate Island, as were most of the towns of the Freesteads, was founded upon the ruins of an ancient city, the name of which had become a casualty of time. It received its current name by common usage. The island upon which the town was built was criss-crossed with a network of canals. The locals used these instead of streets. Only one road passed through Gate Island, the North-South Road which met its end in the vicinity of Clover Hill, many miles to the north, and continued on for a much further stretch to the south. In the center of the island lay a huge, ruined gate, once part of a vast collection of such structures, apparently arranged at random all over the island and the surrounding countryside.
Gate Island, despite being quite a sizable island, was not a large settlement. Gerold guessed no more than a hundred households were built along the canals, and only a few shops. The Steadmeet lay on the south shore of the Northflow River, and was bounded by a low semi-circular dike which stopped at the water on each end.
The houses were of wood, built upon thick poles about four feet above the ground. They were long structures, and the end facing the canal operated as the front of the building. A ladder led up into the darkness of the house, the entire front being open to the air. The people stored their little boats under their houses when not using them.
Most of the inhabitants of Gate Island were Seraphs. Gerold had been told this before he departed, but he had hoped the intelligence had been wrong. All of the things Gerold disliked about outsiders were traits which epitomized the average Seraph.
Seraphs were tall, pale and white-haired. Their eyes, much like those of a Dwarrow, were entirely black. Their limbs were long, and their faces seemed stretched (at least, in the eyes of Gerold, they did).
One such was at the westernmost point of the island, and greeted the little canoe as it glided near.
“Greetings travelers,” the Seraph said, its incongruously deep voice echoing out over the water. “Welcome to Gate Island.”
One of the other Dwarrows, Menold, called back, “Good day!” and the little boat traveled on.
Shortly, they neared the center of the island. Here there were a smattering of docks, and the Dwarrows steered their canoe to the shore. They tied the boat to a post of a low ramp of wood, and hauled themselves and their packs out.
They were on the north side of the island, and the opposite shore was devoid of settlement. Several cranes and other waterfowl populated the reeds, and Gerold noted a huge turtle of some sort sunning itself in the mud.
There is a fine fellow, Gerold thought. Nothing to babble on about. He goes about his business and doesn’t bother anybody else. No sooner had the words formed in his mind, than the turtle plopped into the water with a great splash, sending cranes and fish careering away from the commotion. Gerold cleared his throat uncomfortably and turned his attention upward, to the plains beyond.
There, the fawn-colored land rolled away, not quite flat, but near-enough. Gerold thought, if the light were better, he might be able to see Clover Hill. He realized immediately that he was wrong, and chided himself for thinking like a silly poet. The North-South Road, off to his right, could be seen shooting nearly straight northwest. Still a long way off, he caught sight of several small figures approaching from that direction.
Turning his attention back to the island, he found that his companions were already being accosted by the natives. Menold was discussing lodging with an ancient-looking Seraph in a dark, dingy tunic. The other Dwarrow, Mishi, the only woman among them, was approaching another, younger Seraph. This man seemed more formally dressed, and appeared to be here in an official capacity.
“When does the Steadmeet begin?” Mishi asked, not even bothering with introductions. Such was the Dwarrow efficiency of speech, that such things were deemed unnecessary unless permanent arrangements such as marriage or some other form of partnership were being discussed.
“Nine days, my Good Lady,” the Seraph replied. “I am Maselin, the Mayor of Gate Island. I attempted to greet you properly at the head of the island, but you seemed to have missed me.” He smiled in what was probably a good-natured way.
Indeed, Gerold realized, this did look like the same Seraph they had seen before. It was difficult to tell them apart, as they had little in the way of discernible features. Gerold realized he would have to start looking more closely. Surely there were some sort of fine, distinguishing marks he could use to tell them apart. Otherwise, business was going to be difficult.
“Pardon us,” Mishi was saying. “We didn’t realize.” She seemed genuinely concerned. She was good that. She was along because she was good with outsiders. She managed to get on well with them, though she seemed a perfectly normal Dwarrow in all other respects. “I am Mishi, and I am proud to speak for my partners, Gerold and Menold.” She gestured to each of them in turn.
“You seem not to have brought much in the way of goods,” Maselin said, curiously. He looked about, even into the boat.
“Our wares are small,” Mishi said. “But, they are of value.”
“Ah,” the Seraph replied. “Might we locals have a go at them first, hm?”
Mishi just barely paused. “Our instructions are that we are to await Steadmeet.” She bowed politely.
If the Seraph was offended, he hid it well. He spoke a few more pleasantries Gerold didn’t listen to, and then he went away.
Menold found out that they were among the first to arrive for Steadmeet. A few others, travelling from the south were also here and were already setting themselves up in the bazaar. Gerold suggested they do the same. A short discussion ensued as to what to do with the canoe, and the consensus was to abandon it, as they would very likely purchase wagons and livestock to carry them back upriver.
So, leaving their vessel behind, they crossed the island over the North-South Road. They crossed a wide, old timber bridge built partly on the ruins of an ancient stone span, and entered the bazaar at about the center point. They were fortunate to arrive early, and set up their tiny tent-shop on the North-South, itself, near the central location chosen by other early arrivals.
Most of the others had large wagons, full of heavy items. They saw armor, weapons, textiles, tools, a few vendors of wines and other spirits. They Dwarrows set up their small tent, but kept their product to themselves.
