The Children of Granil
By Valentrus

Outsiders know very little of the history of the dwarves and the halflings. Perhaps these two races prefer it that way. The true culture and customs of the dwarves lie beneath the continent of Elanith itself, in their underground cities, while many halflings enjoy their privacy, keeping to themselves. This truly is a pity, as the few legends and myths dealing with either of these races that have been revealed in this current age have been nothing less than fascinating. A recently discovered legend even tells of both working together.

Defeated in battle by a horde of orcs, the dwarven warlord Granil’s clan was forced to obey the whims of these disgusting creatures. Unfortunately, they were not prepared for the savage and vicious nature of the orcs’ terms of surrender. They wished no gold, no gems, and none of the weapons the great dwarven smiths had forged. They wanted only to humiliate and destroy the emotional state of the dwarven leader.

A lone orc, utterly pleased with himself, delivered the message; Granil’s seven sons were to be delivered by the warlord himself to the orcish stronghold in the swamps. Once there, they were to be the main course in the victory celebration.

Granil was completely beside himself. All of the dwarves shared the grief of their beloved leader. Some wanted to attack the orcs yet again for this insult, but their leader would not allow his few remaining troops to run into another slaughter. The situation appeared hopeless. The dwarves could do nothing to aid their warlord, but the halflings in a neighboring village could.

Ristar, Granil’s second in command, thought first of a plot that would not only save the children he acted as a second father to, but also might defeat the orcs. He would need to find seven halflings from the nearby village who would be willing to risk their own lives to take the chance at forever freeing them from the constant fear of orcish raids.

The young dwarf traveled alone to speak with the halfling council. Impressed by his ingenuity and strong argument, they agreed to aid Granil and the dwarves. For long they lived in fear due to their lack of an army, and now they had the opportunity to eradicate this threat. Their village was far too small to properly defend itself from the orcs, and perhaps that was why the orcs did little more than raid them for supplies. Now, this perverse form of mercy would be the downfall of the orcs.

The halflings even managed to surprise the dwarves with their overwhelming zeal to take part in the plan. There were even arguments over which villagers were best suited for the strike. Eventually, though, seven brave halflings were chosen: Halit, Negil, Falis, Torun, Werig, Garn, and Toor. Halit was chosen to lead. They were not great warriors, powerful wizards, or even well known, as there were no halflings of that nature in the village. These men were simple farmers and hunters, displaying only a few useful skills and a strong desire to aid their fellow villagers.

Upon arriving at the dwarven fortress, they were met by Granil and Ristar themselves. Despite the recent loss suffered by the dwarves, the warlord was able to show these courageous heroes every splendor available. He gave them a great feast, entertainment, and gifts of amazing value. Halit was even presented with a jeweled sword that was supposedly more valuable than any other ever forged.

The halflings slept fitfully that night, knowing that the next day may be the last for all of them. The morning was rather hectic. Knowing the orcs had never seen Granil’s children, the dwarves spent hours making the seven fully grown villagers look like the seven boys. Anticipating this, the halflings made certain not to shave their faces for many days, giving them the short beards necessary.

When the work was complete, the halflings were dressed in the finest dwarven garments, clad in heavy boots, and wearing many layers of make-up to alter their features. Looking at each other, they were surprised at how complete the disguise appeared. Their faces appeared much wider and harsher. The illusion was even difficult to notice at close distance. The slow-witted orcs would never be able to see through it.

All seven were then given daggers that they hid within the folds of their garments. Their instructions were to make certain to kill the orcs’ chieftain, Grish’kal’ret, and then escape. All knew how dangerous this truly was, but the halflings were intent upon fulfilling their task. Their village and the dwarves were counting on them. They were not about to let them all down.

The trip to the swamps was filled with anxiety. Ristar led them single-file through the wastelands outside the orcs’ territory. Though the disguise was nearly perfect, the halflings still agonized over whether or not it would work. Even if it did, they would most likely be killed before even getting the chance to see the chieftain.

Fortunately, the two orcish guards outside the wretched orc stronghold never really bothered to look closely at the halflings. They just noticed a difference in size from normal dwarves, and counted them. After arguing for quite some time whether there were actually seven or eight of them, the one believing they numbered eight decided to agree with his companion at the persuasion of a club hitting him in the head. They opened the gates and a horrid stench filled all of their nostrils. Ristar, between breaths, merely watched as the guards led them in.

Surprisingly, the two orcs led them right to the chieftain’s quarters. Apparently, he wished to gloat to increase his appetite. He was a disgusting creature, covered in filth. A rusted, dented circlet of a dark, thick metal sat upon his brow. Pointing a long, jagged nail at the seven, he began to hurl insults at them. He criticized Granil’s manhood, what he perceived as their race, and how simple it was to overrun these lands.

Torun, often given to anger, sat through this quite calmly for a few moments, but then could not contain himself. He leapt at the Grish’kal’ret, his knife drawn. He managed to stab the blade deeply into the orc’s arm, but the large creature managed to grab him with his uninjured arm, and dash him against the wall, breaking the halfling’s neck.

The other six, enraged by this, lunged for the chieftain. The two guards, frightened by the sight of six small creatures jumping about, weapons brandished to kill, ran for assistance, leaving their leader unaided. Needless to say, the six remaining halflings brought down Grish’kal’ret, mercilessly stabbing at any exposed area until he drew his last breath.

Looking sadly at the battered body of their fallen comrade, the halflings, led by Halit, ran through the halls for the exit. It was dark, but they were able to pick their way through the passages by simply fleeing the stench that permeated them. Always, they heard the guttural sound of the orcish tongue behind them, rising in argumentative tones, followed by a clash of poor-quality steel and a groan of pain.

Upon breaking through to the surface, the halflings ran for the dark forests to the west, where the dwarves would be waiting to shelter them. Strangely, no orcs pursued them into the light, and it seemed rather easy for the dwarves to guide them back to Granil’s stronghold.

Once again, they were treated to all the luxuries of their previous visit, except with the nagging anxiety; this was replaced with the warming sense of victory and relief. After spending a restful night among the dwarves, they left for their village with the promise that they would hear immediately of any news concerning the orcs.

Days later, Ristar arrived at the halfling village, this time in a cheerful mood. His news soon revealed the cause of this. The orcs, taken by surprise, were slow to form an organized party to go after the “demonic children,” as they called them. Once they did get organized, they fought for the right to lead this group, as they were unaccustomed to not having Grish’kal’ret decide for them. This argument eventually heightened into a battle over who was to take the position of chieftain.

By the time the orcs finished, nearly half of them lay slain by their one-time companions. Those that remained were still divided into feuding factions. The dwarves were able to defeat these small parties rather easily, since none would band together. They forced the orcs from their territory, enjoying not only the natural peace and freedom from fear that came with that, but also the strong friendship that had developed between Granil’s clan and the halfling village.