galvarelli/stoneshodtravelers.txt

Travelers to the Rock were, while not common, at least heard of.
Even Stoneshod travelers occasionally made the pilgrimage.
Unheard of in Chief's village, however, was eight great Stoneshod warriors, one wearing dwarrow treasure, seemingly unaware of the Rock entirely.
Brother Kab stubbornly insisted that this was indeed the situation waiting in the village entrance hall, so Chief reluctantly made his way up to meet them.

―I believe the leader is called kala pini, or something like it, Kab said as they walked. Jod doesn't speak the Open Tongue well enough to understand them.
	I'd have stayed with them, but he insisted.
	Said he needed to keep an eye on them.

―Kab, you need to assert yourself more.
	Anyway, so Jod was able to talk to their a bit in Border?
	That's an odd language for one of the Stoneshod.

― No, that's the thing. Proper Dwarrowspeak, too pure for Jod to follow. None of them speak Border though, which is why none of us have gotten through to them.

― And the dwarrow treasure?

― Made of truesilver, the only adjective I can come up with is legendary. Kab grimaced as Chief gave him a look. I swear, it's something out of the vaults of legend.

Chief hummed pensively, letting the tunnel walls resonate with his intrigue.

They entered the entrance hall, where to his dismay Chief saw Brother Jod glaring at the visitors, who seemed distinctly uncomfortable with him.
Even Chief was uncomfortable with Brother Jod.
The eight Stoneshod were large even for their kind, the largest almost fifteen feet tall.
That one was one of two carrying a spear, which would not have helped Jod's mood.
The leader caught Chief's eye, however.
Slightly smaller, twelve feet from toe to head, a head on which he wore a thin circlet off which threads seemed to flow, through his hair down to his chest and back.
The circlet and the many threads flashed a rich gold, or a pure silver, or if the light caught it perfectly, the red of sunset as Chief walked, so the truesilver was real, and some deep part of Chief's mind urged him to reach out and feel the metal.
Truesilver worked this finely, each thread no thicker than each hair of the Stoneshod's brown fur, would have taken a master to make, and Chief wondered if his village was worth as much as even one of those threads.

Chief shook himself out of his admiration of the circlet.

― Welcome to the town of Westgate, friends, Chief said in the Open Tongue. Kab says you're not making a pilgrimage to the Rock?

At this, the tall one with the spear grunted and said to their leader

― What else would you expect, talking to a dwarf?

― Rich, coming from one of the Herd! Brother Jod shouted, starting to reach for his spear, but before Chief could process the sudden flurry the tall Stoneshod had raised his spearpoint to Jod's throat.

― Stop! rumbled their leader. His voice echoed painfully loudly in the hall, deep as thunder, and the warrior with the spear seemed to shrink back.

Hell, Chief thought, I'd flinch at that voice too even if it weren't from someone twice my size.
Their leader glared at the tall one a moment, turned to Chief and said,

― I beg forgiveness twice, once for my guard's insult to your people with his word, and once for his insult to your hospitality with his spear.

Then, in proper Dwarrowspeak, he said
— We are here to ask for your aid.
	The nearness of your heart bring us comfort.

Jod looked shocked to hear the holy language in the great Stoneshod's mouth, which Chief made a note to relish later.

― Well met friend, and I hope this hall provides you shelter, Chief said in reply in the stock Dwarrowspeak phrases he could manage. Switching to the Open Tongue, he continued:

― Your guard is forgiven, Chief said. At this the guard bristled slightly, and Chief noted that their leader gave the guard a pointed glance.

― You speak our tongue beautifully, better than anyone in this village, I would say.

Chief caught a glimpse of shame in Jod's eye, so this day was improving rapidly.
―I'm the Chief of this village, so you go ahead and call me Chief.
	We're used to pilgrims here, so it's surprising to see visitors going anywhere else.
	Although, I must admit, it's surprising to see yaks here at all.

―As I tried to tell your man there, the Stoneshod said, gesturing at Kab, I am President Calvin of Galvarelli.
	I seek passage to Mountberg, and aid from the dwarrowfolk.
	It's a matter of the utmost importance.

―Well, we'll want to spend some time to discuss it.
	In the meantime, you must have been travelling far?
	Would you care to stay here until tomorrow?

―If it would be no burden, it would be a great gift.
	We ran into unexpected trouble at the Sea-Gate, and the rest would be appreciated.

―I think we would be happy to accommodate all of you.
	Kab, please escort His Presidency to the guest quarters.
	We'll send someone over to call you later on, perhaps to dine with me.

Kab led the yaks into the hallway deeper into the village.
Jod looked grumpy.

―Chief, what are we doing?
	Mountberg isn't going to let us open a Path anywhere.

Chief sighed.

―I know.
	And it's not just any yak, either.
	Do Presidents just show up at random towns?
	You knew what he was wearing, right?
	That's the Helm of the Second Compact.

Jod's look of shock was worth the terrible situation.

―Chief, if he's wearing it...

Chief hummed to himself, and nodded.

―Jod, I think you should plan to wake Sister Omig up.
	And get your charts ready.
	Whatever's coming, the two of you should be ready.
	Maybe see if we can send them to the Temple.
	Even if they're not making the pilgrimage, the Elder Beast there might know more about yak problems.

Jod nodded, and left.
Damn yaks, Chief thought.
He started for the kitchens, hoping they had any sort of idea what yaks ate.