Morulthien's Tale
Part II
"Everything from this point forward
seems a dream. I remember climbing up a gravel shore, the loud rush of the
river seemingly all around me. I couldn't feel the
sharp rocks under my hands and knees. I pulled myself further up the shore
in the darkness of the ravine and felt unusually warm. As you know, that
is one dangerous sign of hyperthermia."
He shivered and moved closer to the fire Kit had just lit, warming his
hands as though the night was cold instead of just pleasantly cool. After
a few minutes
Mor sat back on the log and tapped his spent pipe against the bottom of
his boots. He absentmindedly reloaded it from the small pouch of Halfling
weed and
lit it with a twig from the fire which had caught nicely by now and was
crackling merrily. The shadows drew close to the fire as they always do
and seemed to
deepen even more as he continued his tale.
"How did I make it up that steep bank? I can only credit my faith in
the Mother and my stubbornness. By all rights I should be there
still..."
"I must have lost consciousness a few more times as my memories
continue to come in vaguely. I remember a surge of fear and anger when I
heard the orc hunting horns coming from upstream however. That I remember
clearly. The cursed greenskins had decided that they would rather have Elf
than deer and were probably hoping they would find me washed up dead
onshore or stuck on a rock in the river, their work done for them."
"The sound of the horns brought me around a bit and I somehow found
the strength to continue. Clambering to my feet at the top of the bank, I
raised my head and saw the moon far above framed between the dark sides of
the ravine towering over me. The moon was cloaked in gray clouds heavy
with snow as the large bright halo around her clearly indicated."
"A horn blew harshly upstream, breaking me from my musings. They
sounded much closer now. I found that I was standing on a game trail of
some kind and made my way along the shore downstream hoping to find a
place to hide or at the least defend myself better. I had decided that I
would not trust to the stream if they
did overtake me. I was angry enough by now that I wanted to take one or
two more with me if I could. The stream was the cowards way out and I
would be beyond
caring what they did with me after I was dead. Even orcs have to
eat..."
Mor smiled a humorless smile and took a drag off his fresh pipe. Somewhere
close by a night bird began to tentatively call for a mate. Off in the
distance a
wolf howled signaling the start of the night's hunt. She was soon answered
by a chorus of others. The night bird resumed its call after the pace's
howls subsided,
this time with more vigor.
"Speaking of eating" he said; taking a bit of caiman jerky from
his pack. He had been hunting in The Oasis until recently and had been
subsisting on caiman and
crocodile jerky for some time now. Mor offered some to Kit who, taking it
and cutting some off for herself, handed it back.
Morulthien continued around a mouthful of the jerky. "I had continued
along the trail for some time, stumbling often. When I did fall, I would
continue on my hands and knees until such time as I could muster the
strength to stand once again. The horns grew ever closer."
"It was then that by chance or divine design I noticed a darker patch
low on the bluff ahead. Hoping it was a cave of some kind, I pulled myself
toward it. It was
fairly hard to see as there were some bushes blocking the entrance. Saying
my thanks to Tunare, I pulled myself into the close darkness and knew no
more for
awhile. Exhaustion, blood loss, and the cruel onslaught of the bitter cold
had taken their toll."
"In a dream I was lying on a soft bed with a warm fur pulled over me.
It was dark, but I could feel the presence of someone near me. Horns blew
and I heard
the harsh cry of orcs. Then in my dream I was suddenly cold again and
heard a loud roar very near me but for some reason I was unafraid. The orc
cries seemed to change from triumph to fear as the roar sounded once
again. The horn stopped blowing and the cries, seemingly pursued by the
occasional roar, faded into
the distance. I almost regained full consciousness at that point but
slipped back into a dreamless sleep when I was once again covered by the
warm fur."
"I do not know how long I slept. The returning cold must have been
what awakened me. The she-bear must have gone off to hunt leaving me in
her den. For that
is where I was, a she-bear's winter den! She had not begun to hibernate
yet as the winter had come too early and interrupted the last few days of
her "fattening up". Though I was grateful for her help and sure
of the hand of the Mother in my rescue, I wanted to try to be gone before
the bear sow came back. Bears are as unpredictable as the Mother herself
and she may decide that I would help her fatten up if she came back empty
handed from the hunt."
Kittiana looked astonished at this turn of event but said nothing as Mor
continued, wonder still showing in his eyes. The firelight made strange
patterns of shadow over his face and he seemed sometimes older and
sometimes younger than he truly was. She could now clearly see the
Blessing of the Mother on his face...
"Try as I might, it was a long time before I could muster the
strength to crawl to the entrance of the den. As I looked out over the
river rushing and tumbling over the rocks below in the grayish light, I
could scarcely believe I had made it out of that stream alive. Snow clouds
hung heavy overhead and a thick layer of new snow lay over everything. The
snow around the entrance to the den was disturbed by the
bear's passing and it appeared she had gone upstream to hunt from the
direction of her tracks."
"In the dim light I inspected my wounds and took stock of my
situation. There were many, but only the wound on my shield arm caused me
concern. Though it didn't appear to be infected, it was quite deep. I had
lost my shield and pack some time during the night; probably when I
tumbled through the torrent below. Amazingly, I still had Morningbreeze
which was securely tied into my sheath though I did not remember doing
so."
"I had sat and mused too long for I heard a grunting sound from
upstream and saw the bear sow, one of the biggest and fattest I have ever
seen, making her way toward the den dragging the body of a doe. I had no
time to make my way out of the den before she would see me and I knew if I
did I would most probably die of exposure in a short amount of time so I
did the only thing I could do: I put my faith in the Mother and crawled
back into the den."
"After a few moments the bear entered the den, her large body
instantly shutting out most of the light and the cold air. Dumping the
body unceremoniously in a corner, she walked over and sniffed me loudly
for several seconds. I stayed very still but she seemed to pay me no more
mind after a few more sniffs. I let her eat her fill and settle in to nap
before I pulled my knife and made my way to the carcass. I was hungry
myself and needed the nourishment to heal my battered body. I found it odd
that the bear would bring the kill to its den."
Kittian nodded in agreement. It was out of character for a bear who were
usually very tidy and particular about their dens.
"They usually hide it somewhere and return to feed so that the kill
doesn't attract attention to their den. But the sudden drop in temperature
and early snow had much to do with it, I am sure. She knew there was
little time now before she would be forced to hibernate for the winter and
that another heavy snowfall may make the kill hard to find or impossible
to get to if it wasn't nearby."
"I stayed there several days until I had gained back sufficient
strength to attempt the journey down slope to the warmer, more settled
valleys below where I would continue my recovery. The bear and I got along
fine. I never made any sudden moves and we mostly ignored each other. It
became apparent that she would
hibernate soon because she spent much of her day asleep."
"Taking some of the meat for myself I said my farewells to the
sleeping bear and walked stiffly but confidently out of the den. My feet
pointing downstream, I made my slow and careful way hoping to make some
decent distance before I was forced to find shelter. I planned on finding
someplace that night where I could light a fire. I had had enough raw meat
to last me a lifetime in the past few days..."
Mor sat back and took another puff from his pipe. He looked at Kit with
raised eyes to see if she would comment. Kit was silent as usual but her
face held a hint of awe mixed with newfound respect. To her, Mor had
always been the "little" brother. Now she saw him as an equal.
Though he had fewer years of experience in the bush, he was even more
comfortable there than she was. And this tale, which she did not doubt in
the least, was proof that he was one of Tunare's chosen.
"Ah, I almost forgot!", he said rummaging around in his weather-beaten,
stained pack. "I found this in the deer carcass. I want you to have
it. Make a necklace of it or some such." Saying that, he threw over
an object wrapped in leather and tied securely. Kittiana untied the bundle
and looked at the object inside with more than a bit of wonder.
It was an orc arrowhead.
Tale by Russell Thorp