Doing My Rounds


Hoot Hoot. Hoot Hoot.

The owls began to chant as nightfall was gradually coming over H?yglen. The rushing rapids of the river bend also spoke out louder as the talkative sounds of daytime were retiring, and the much more sinister and chilly noises of the night were rousing. Little by little, the trees began to light both in their thick centers and their wealth of branches. Assortments of infinite birdhouse-like homes hung from the outstretched fingers of the trees, and some more notable, distinguished fairies, got to have their homes in the very trees themselves.

Like houses lighting up to a nightly ritual, lamps were turned on in ?bedrooms? and more peculiar ?street lights? as it were, ignited and making visible the flight paths from tree to tree and even lighting the cushion-like grass down below where some chose to walk instead of magically fly. Some did not have the benefit of choice, however, as not all fairies of H?yglen had the gift of flight. It was something that was quite rare, to be honest. Even the famous fairy prince, Rauland, did not have the gift of flight. This made living up in the trees a hindrance for some, but other flightless fairies found ways to cope such as with the assistance of rope ladders and plank ladders on the trees before ascending them and up to the, tree depending, elaborate system of streets to be walked across with cute little railings and carved d?cor and even tiny little market carts depending on the size of the tree limb.

As this nightly transition occurred, there sat Rauland, up in one of those tree limbs and swaying those finely clothed legs of his as he awaited someone. His face lit up happily as he closed his eyes at a connection that was contacting him from his spirit from a distant realm. He saw a rippling portal begin to manifest down on the ground where he had been patiently looming over, waiting. After that portal came to its bloom, Dyarhk stepped out from it looking back to it always to watch it quiver the reflection of the forest back at him before dissipating entirely.

?Dyaaaaarhk!? Rauland cheered, swinging Tarzan-like down toward him from that canopy up above when he was aptly caught into the awaiting clutch of the man. ?Ugh! ? Nice, ? to see you too! Eh heh!?

?Hi, Rauland.? Dyarhk said, planting him on the ground to walk beside him as he headed to the base of that tree. There waiting was a steel torso of a man he began fastening on as well as gauntlets and bracers and his Danish long sword. Lastly, a flowing burgundy cape was swung on that signified his rank amidst the tribes here. Such was the insignia, also, that the great pearl cloak clasp that married the two shoulders of his cape together was a beautiful circular pendant with a golden marking on it that only Bernard Dearing's Lieutenants wore. A prestigious and rarely bestowed position. With the resting of that cape ever behind him, it was often Rauland's calling to scale it.

?You sure put this stuff on easily, Dyarhk. I think you like wearing it.? Rauland climbed up to his shoulder and draped over him like a lazy child might in a tire swing. Just hanging around.

Dyarhk's gaze went to his shoulder, where he was, ?Of course. It is your father's banner. I wear it with pride.?

?Yea, but I meant this kind of stuff in general. Swords and armor and stuff.? Rauland corrected.

?Oh... I have just done it for so long, Rauland. It is nothing I particularly enjoy.?

?Whaaatever.? the fairy prince said, snickering before he was being forced to grab hold of Dyarhk who had begun on his march. The fairies overhead paid notice to him, some did not. But many waved and whistled and danced at one of the heroic figures that had entered the ten year war late, and above all was the first man to set foot on their sacred land in hundreds of years. That alone, that stretched back to their bedtime tales, was grounds for celebration.

?What's the hurry, Dyarhk?? Rauland asked.

?The hour is not so late by the H?yglen clock, but I still wish to see my children to bed.? he walked through a largely unlit portion of forest that warranted a failed attempt at frightening him from Rauland's ghastly emitted Spooooky.

?I find it quite peaceful, actually.? Dyarhk grumbled, that pearl cloak clasp glinting in the darkness as the moon faintly picked it up in the right shifts he made. ?Ohh!! What was that??? Rauland asked suddenly.

Dyarhk paused, fists made at his sides as he took cautious stance. Rauland wasn't kidding around this time. There was something in the shadow. A beast. Those freshly gauntleted hands assumed position over that Danish hilt. His eyes did not blink. This beast was enormous, and to be reckoned with. He took two more breaths of cold night air before his move was taken from him and the beast approached. Rauland screamed as they were came upon suddenly by ground-quaking quadruped with a coat of black hair so fine it shone even in the darkness of the same shade.

It had been De'dorroh, the ?Warhorse of Prophecy? as he was called by Bernard when he was born from his own war steed Al'dorroh several years ago. He was nicknamed this because of his ungodly size of 8'8?, or twenty-six hands tall. Similar to that of a black Icelandic stallion, De'dorroh was pure muscle and stocky because of it, his weight just over a ton. So, too, was he born into the care of Dyarhk and Seiri at Bernard's stables. He was Dyarhk's mount, and a dear companion since they shared the similarities of being awoken in a world they knew nothing of. It was something they were learning together.

But Rauland did not appreciate the horse so much. Because of its tremendous size, Rauland often worried that he might simply be eaten by him one day. This was a risk as well with a regular-sized horse, so it was understandable that he did not get close to De'dorroh so often. Dyarhk made kissy sounds to him until the horse's nose came within range and was aptly clasped and stroked. His long black mane was a thing of marvel, and regardless of the chore that maintaining him was, this result was always more than worth it.

?Ahhhh! De'dorroh!! What are you doing out of your stable?!? Rauland cried frantically.

?Sh sh sh sh...? Consolation was given to the enormous beast as Dyarhk made sure to put his forehead against that head of his. A sudden jarring, and the past was proof of this, could very easily knock him out with a headbutt. ?He's right, De'dorroh. What are you doing out here??

The horse did jerk its head. Thankfully Dyarhk's had been up against it. From a very early age he recalled him wandering the forest late at night, so it was no great concern he was out loose. He was not such a dumb horse to run away or get into trouble. Rather, like his father, he was likely to become a roamer and protector of the forest. The fairies took very kindly to horses, as did horses them, particularly Bernard's horse Al'dorroh. It was only Rauland who was skittish around him.

Dyarhk stroked his head twice more lovingly before regarding the near signal fire sized conflagration that was being controlled by the watch post he had come this way for. He walked past the fire casually, casting an enormous shadow that Rauland could not resist doing as well. Coming up to the post, two imposing figures came into view. One was a dwarf, much more imposing than that of Crall Goldcrusher, in a sense. It made sense, he had been Crall's father. His beard was much larger, and more salt than pepper, indicating his older age. His stance was a familiar one to Dyarhk, cane-prose with a giant weapon out in-front of them. In this dwarf, Bann Goldcrusher's case, it was a giant hammer; Bann's Hammer.

?My father shaped our Mountain Kingdom with this hammer.? Bann had told him many moons ago. It was truly a piece of the Dwarven Mountain Lords' history, as was The Gods' Edge, both weapons now wielded in H?yglen. Dyarhk came up and placed a hand on the dwarf's shoulder. ?Have you nothing better to do on a late night than stand guard around here, old man.??

?.....Hmph..!? The dwarf was in much too good of a mood and his smoke was much too enjoyable to be off-put by Dyarhk's predictable antics. A friendly pat, and Dyarhk's hand left his shoulder. The second whom was standing guard with Bann had been another elderly, only less noticeably so. Triuun Domastes, ruler of the Domastes nation of H?yglen fairies, Commander and fellow General along with Bernard in their past times of war. One of the few, that being four or five, to have their own Coat of Arms. He wore it tonight in all his four or so inches of height, and it was still an imposing insignia. A red line with three branches on it set also to a white background not unlike Bernard's gold and white Coat of Arms.

?Bwearahen nauhh mahou, Triuun. you are here as well.?? Dyarhk greeted and asked the elder.

?Does my looking after my woods surprise you that much, Palliator??

Dyarhk's other name, he did not hear it often. So few knew it that were not his enemies; so few that were not on Tirraru. It took him a moment to guide his cape with a hand to take a seat with the two elders. ?This region of it, yes.?

?In truth, I was coming to see Bernard. I caught up with Master Dwarf here and decided to accompany him on his shift.? Triuun said. The short white-haired fairy walked along the tiny post's structure. Bann puffed on his notably long pipe.

?I see.? Dyarhk rest the bottom of his palm on that silver pommel of that Danish sword, contemplatively. ?Well with the post in such capable hands for the time being, I think I'll scout the river. Be well. I'll perhaps see you both back at Bernard's estate.? Dyarhk waved to them.

?Bye!? Rauland said, waving from that ever his shoulder perch.

?Yes, goodnight, Young Prince.? Triuun called, habitually.

?What's down by the river, then? ? this late at night...? Bann asked out to the caped man ever blending into the night.

?Probably nothing.? was his response, walking on and leaving the light of the fire. The two watched him go. The nighttime chirping was a sweet, pleasant sound that Dyarhk could and had gone to sleep to. But as they slowly transitioned away from the safety of the forest and out into the descending hill that ran down to the river and those rushing waters, it was a delightful change.

?What are we doing here, Dyarhk??? Rauland asked.

He put up a mountain boot to a fallen tree that had been by the water's side for some time. An elbow to his knee and his adventure-seeking face lit up despite the darkness at the sight across the rapid-flowing river where man dwelt and war came with them. A smile tugged at his lips. They did not know how peaceful nights in the fairy-protected woods were. They did not know the prolonged period of peace that awaited them.