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Composer : Didier Merlateau Title : "Crossing" Time : 1:05 Formation : Five |
A drop of rain bounced off Kettleturner's large nose. Having slept all day he awoke in a bad mood ; he had a long road ahead of him. From high in his tree he could see the village agitated by the rain. People ran this way and that seeking the comfort of their cottages. He waited a little while under the shelter of a large oak, until the last lights had gone out.
Little by little the hamlet fell into a restoring sleep. As for the dwarf he became more and more active. He had to cross this territory and he did't like the idea at all. Soon everything was calm and the dwarf picked up his bag. It was time to break camp. He made sure that he hadn't forgotten anything and set off.
From the bridge across the river he saw one cottage whose lights still burned. He approached as quietly as possible and was soon amongst the first of the houses. "Nice cosy village" he was saying to himself when he overheard cries coming from the house with the lighted window. He crept forward and tried to peek in, catching a glimpse of a man and a couple. Manifestly they were nervously shaking a box. Now the noise of the rain covered all other sounds. Kettleturner would be unable to hear if anyone approached him. The dwarf took fright and ran off. He ran as fast as he could but, loaded down as he was, it was difficult and painful for his poor feet and back.
Gasping for breath, Kettleturner gave one last backwards glance at the village which had cost him a whole days travelling time and then continued on his way. Water had got into his boots making him even more miserable. Now the road wound it's way through a rocky escarpment and had he met anyone he would have had no place to hide. Thankfully the road was deserted. Who in their right mind would be out in such a barren place on such a wet night ? Suddenly the poor dwarf felt very lonely. He would have liked to have gone back to his homeland but his duty passed before all else. Besides he had been in worse situations. Thinking about it he came to the conclusion that it would be more prudent to travel during the night from now on . He pressed on , eager to reach the mountain before daybreak.
Dawn was breaking when he came to an alcove in the rocks. He decided to take a break. After all he only had about a two hours walk before he reached the first cliffs where he would hopefully be able to find shelter. He threw down his bag and tried to dry out his boots.
The rain had stopped and the ensuing silence announced a sunny day.
Drawing by Ferber
The chill of the morning weighed down the dwarf's limbs. Starting to fall asleep he was roused from his torpor by a flight of pigeons.
He opened his bag and drew out the magic globe which was destined for King Tribar.
It was glowing with a reddish light, sign of imminent danger. Quickly Kettleturner sprang from his hiding place, his hand on Shieldsplitter his mighty axe. He scrutinised the surrounding countryside and spotted movement coming from behind a rock. He went closer, careful not to be seen. And there he came across the first real problem he had encountered on his voyage : Trolls. There were only two but they seemed very agitated. Small and hairy these creatures liked dwarves for their firm flesh. Kettleturner had a deep rooted hatred of trolls ever since they had disrupted his village's mine.
The trolls were sniffing the air suspiciously. They had detected Kettleturner's presence. The two creatures began silently to creep towards his hiding place. For his part he drew Shieldsplitter. With his memories of the outrages which the trolls had inflicted on his village some ten years previously fresh in his mind, he flung himself on his swore enemies. Taken by surprise the Trolls screamed and tried to defend themselves as best they could. The first more or less flung himself on Shieldsplitter, which promptly cut him in half. He fell heavily to the ground in a pitiful heap.
The second was more intelligent (which, since it was a troll, isn't saying much) and managed to dodge the dwarf's attack. Yelling and waving like a madman, Kettleturner was well aware of the danger which a prolonged fight entailed. The troll would try to contact his compatriots. The dwarf yelled even louder than his attacker, breaking the trolls concentration. Stunned it momentarily lost control of it's limbs. It's head fell. It's body followed. Kettleturner grunted , his axe and hands black with the blood of the troll whose head he had just severed.
In any case, he said to himself, those two were just for starters. He didn't know how right he was.
At the same time :
Kettleturner (chapter 1)