IN THE HIGH MEADOWS
There was never a day went by that Broco, the Gypsy Dwarf, did not think back about his friends, and their great journey long before. At his hearth, he would light a fire and recall the times of darkness on the lower planes of Atlanton Earth, and would take down his old book of lore and half-heartedly turn a few pages of the big tome, or read a few lines of Otter's entry in the ledger, printed carefully in the small gray animal's neat paw. He turned further in the book he had kept for so long that he could hardly remember when he had begun it, and find the great flourishing lines of Bear, who always somehow managed to mention food.
Living beneath a small range of mountains called the Tinsel Hats in the quietest part of the Upper Meadows, he felt he had aged, and his step had slowed. There were his endless chores to attend to, and the journal to keep, but there was a restlessness growing within him that at last came to a head when the younger dwarf from the Rainbow Woods appeared at his door. A visitor was always a rare event since he had moved further up and further in, and a chance to share a meal with one of his own kind was a rare pleasure.
The dwarf's name was Kinred, and he dwelled in the hills below Aloe Hall. He'd had disturbing news, and had come all that way to seek out Broco, and try to determine what it might mean. The two of them sat over a hearty plate of fresh dwarfcakes and strong tea, while Kinred related his news to his concerned listener.
"And you say this happened twice?" asked Broco, frowning and stirring in another dollop of honey to his tea.
Three times, really," replied Kinred. "I didn't know what to make of it at first, so I don't think I paid much attention at the beginning."
"And you say these fellows were all repeating the same message?"
"Brandigore was the word that finally caught my attention," said Kinred. "It seemed so strange for, well, you know, animals, to be speaking our tongue, and familiar with our lore."
"The meeting will be at the Brandigore Gate," repeated Broco, rubbing his chin, his eyes clouded and distant. He was lost in thought so long, his visitor cleared his voice nervously."
"Does that mean anything?" asked Kinred. "Where is the Brandigore Gate? Is there such a place?"
Broco nodded sadly. "I have not heard it called such since I was just a spanner in all this business. There are four of the gates," Broco went on. "Each one is a crossing." He suddenly smiled, remembering a tea talk he'd had with Froghorn once, and the handsome young wizard had referred to the North Realm's Gate as Brandigore's. That was one thing he could always count on from Faragon Fairingay, known affectionately as Froghorn. He was always brash, but always polite.
"Crossing? How do you mean?" asked Kinred.
Broco had concluded that although this dwarf was in his middle years as dwarfs went, he must have been busy delving an elaborate maze of tunnels below the Rainbow Wood, instead of being in the Lower Meadows, lost in the great war that raged across Atlanton, while the Dark Queen, Dorini, sought to enslave every living thing in her black reign of terror. Now the fellow had finally been shaken from his endless routine by the visits of the animals who had known the dwarfish lore, and had been familiar with the great name of Brandigore.
"What do you make of it," pressed Kinred, helping himself to another of the fresh dwarfcakes.
"What sort of animals were these? Had you ever seen them before?"
Kinred blushed. "Well, you know, animals. I was quite surprised to hear them speaking in common tongue."
Broco uttered a little chuckle. "You have the makings of a stiff-necked dwarf, my boy. You remind me of when I was first in the way of all this faltrahoot. I didn't know how much I'd had my head in my own cake-bake until a certain goat came down out of the Beginnings, humming a little tune that caught my fancy."
"A goat? Humming a song?" shot Kinred, genuinely shocked.
Broco could not keep himself from laughing.
"No offense, Kinred, I am simply remembering something that happened to me. I was as close-minded as Pardin's Hammer, and I tumbled from my digs and set out on a road that crossed the River, without even so much as a minute's notice."
His visitor paled. Enjoying the effect he was having, Broco went on gleefully. "I crossed Calix Stay with two animals, and was gone into the Lower Meadows quite some time." As he spoke, he was suddenly overwhelmed by a sadness so deep, he thought he would not be able to choke back the sobs he felt welling inside him. When he had at last crossed Calix Stay again, and come on to these Upper Meadows, Greyfax and Lorini had told him his great sadness would be eased, and he wouldn't feel those terrible sorrows, or know the dull ache hidden deep in his heart.
But there was a splinter left, and he saw Kinred grow uncomfortable as he fought to control this torrent of feelings that suddenly came on him like a Urinine ambush.
Broco poured more of the strong tea, and set out another plate of dwarfcakes. He then went to his workbench, and picked up the well-worn journal. He brought it back to the table and sat down, opening it to the first entry, when he had met Bear, all that time ago, as measured beyond Calix Stay. Here, in his digs in the Upper Meadows, he could not be sure how long it was, but there was an urgent sense growing in him, of something left undone, much like he felt when he left his delving, and worried later about not having banked his fires.
Kinred sat, dwarfcake untouched in his hand, waiting.
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