… and on they rode through drifting down stone dust under the darkling sky.
They came to the village of Gronkulle, nought but a hamlet on a rounded hill, all the buildings now covered with the stone dust, the town overall a pale grey. But both Tip and Bekki were glad of the village, for as they rode through the powder-covered streets and past dust-laden, canvas-topped wagons, they found it had an inn.
Dismounting, they tied up the ponies at the railing, and through the door and into the common room they trod, shaking dust from cloak and clothing and removing the cloth from their faces. Men sitting at several of the tables- men in armor and bearing weapons-drew in their breaths at the sight of the two. Moving on inward, Tip and Bekki halted before a man in an apron stooping over and whisking a pile of grey dirt into a dustpan.
'Det dr en mork dag vilken bringa du-' Straightening up, the innkeeper's words jerked to a halt when he saw who these new patrons were.
'Sorry, but we don't speak Avenian,' said Tipperton, stamping dust from his boots.
'Um, I was saying, it is a dark day which brings you to my inn,' replied the 'keep, setting aside the pan and whisk broom. 'What will it be?'
'Be?' growled Bekki.
'I mean, what will you have? Rooms? Food? Drink? We've not but a couple of rooms left'-he nodded toward the men at the tables-'what with the drivers and guards heading for the muster, as it were.'
'All three, and a bath, too,' said Tipperton, briskly rubbing his head, stone dust flying, the innkeeper frowning as it drifted to the floor.
'Have you someone to see to our ponies?' asked Bekki.
'Jarl!' shouted the innkeeper. 'Ponnis er ute gata.'
A young lad came scrambling down the stairs, his eyes flying wide when he saw the guests, but then he bolted out the door, Tipperton calling after: 'Bring in our gear!' Yet whether the lad heard or understood, he did not know.
'A Dwarf and a Waldan: we don't get your like too often 'round here,' said the innkeeper, bustling behind the bar. At Bekki's scowl, the man blurted, 'Oh, not that there's aught wrong with it-'
'How many other Warrows have you put up?' asked Tip, grinning. 'Or for that matter, how many other Dwarves?'
'Well, now that I think of it, you two are the first.'
'Hah!' barked Bekki.
The 'keep stooped down and looked under the bar. 'Urn, will you be wanting one room or two? And will that be a bath before or after a meal and a mug?'
'One room is fine,' said Bekki.
'The bath before,' added Tip. 'I've got to get free of this dust.'
The innkeeper straightened up, latchkey in hand. 'Top of the stairs, third room on the right. The bathing room is out back. Jarl will see to the water.'
As the two made their way up the stairs, from a nearby table one of the patrons stood and hurried from the room.
Quickly the news spread throughout the village:
One of the Litenfolk -Travelling with a Dva'rg, no less -From Kachar? Them what saved Dendor? -The little one, can he be the one? -The one what the kingsherald told us about?- -Him what snuck through the whole of the Horde?- And as the news spread, folks came through the still-falling dust and into Den Gronkulle Vadrshus-The Greenknoll Inn-though now it and the hill it stood on was anything but green.
'Aye, some came past, months agone, but they steered wide,' said one of the men.
'Running for the Grimwall, we think,' added the woman at his side.
'Running for the ford, I shouldn't wonder,' opined another, lifting her mug.
Tip shoved away his empty wooden bowl, the stew having gone down well. As he took up a chunk of bread, Bekki said, 'The ford?'
'Aye, over the Argon, west and north a deal.'
'More west than north,' amended another.
Bekki glanced at Tip, then said, 'The ford a bit west of Nordlake?'
'Aye,' came the response.
'If that's where you are headed,' added the innkeeper, 'then I'd advise not. But if you are bound to go regardless, then watch your necks.'
A murmur of agreement muttered 'round the room.
'And if it's to Nordlake you be bound, watch out for the Vattenvidunder,' cautioned another.
This brought derisive laughter from some and wide-eyed agreement from others.
Tip frowned. 'What is this, um, Vatten-?'
'Vattenvidunder,' said the innkeeper, refreshing Tip's mug of ale, then Bekki's. The 'keep cocked an eyebrow at several in the crowd, and added, 'A water monster which some believe lives in Nordlake.'
'He does! He does!' averred the one who had first spoken the name. 'He comes up the Argon from the sea now and again and into Nordlake. Why? For what? Who knows?'
'Oh, Norge,' pooh-poohed someone in the crowd, 'and just how does he get past the shallows of the fords?'
'He comes and goes in flood times,' huffed Norge.
Tip shook his head. 'Beg pardon, Goodmaster Norge, but flood or no, a creature coming up the Argon from the sea would have to swim over Bellon Falls, and that's a thousand-foot-high cataract. I know, for I have seen it.'
'Wull, then he swims around it.'
Again Tip shook his head. 'I'm sorry, but there are no rivers 'round.'
This brought a laugh from several in the crowd, and someone called out, 'See!'
Norge frowned and jutted out his jaw. 'Wull, whether or no he comes from the sea, still there's a Vattenvidunder in Nordlake, for my da, ere he died, bless his spirit, saw it.'
'Or so he said,' called out someone, laughing as he did so.
Norge leapt to his feet, fists clenched, but Tip called out, 'A song. I'll play a song.' And he reached for his silver-stringed lute as a cheer greeted his words.
A glare in his eyes, Norge sat back down, and thus was a fight averted.
The next morning, stone dust yet drifted down from the grey sky above. The wagon drivers and guards decided to wait another day or so, but Bekki and Tip rode onward, for the moon did not tarry in its path, nor would golden mint pause in its growth, though what this falling grey might do to the gwynthyme, neither Tip nor Bekki could say.
'Rupt and water monsters and falling rock dust,' said Tip as they left the bounds of Gronkulle. 'I wonder what else lies in our path.'
'Dust, yes; Squam, perhaps; but Vattenvidunder? I think not,' said Bekki.
'Oh? And why not the Vatten-, uh, Vatten-'
'Vidunder,' completed Bekki. 'I think not because I have been to Nordlake, and no monster did I see.'
'Oh. -Well I've never seen a Stone Giant, yet you tell me they are real.'
'Ah, but, Tipperton, you have never spent most of your life under the living stone, as have I.'
'And, Bekki, you have never spent most of your life along the shores of Nordlake.'
'True,' admitted Bekki.
'Well then?'
Beneath his face covering, Bekki frowned but held his tongue.
They rode awhile in silence, but then Tip said, 'Have you seen a Stone Giant?'
Bekki shook his head, dust drifting off his cloak hood. 'Nay.'
'Oh,' said Tip, disappointed. 'I was just wondering what they did. I mean, I've heard some of the legends- how they can move through stone, how they have real gemstones for eyes-but I've never heard of their purpose. I mean, why are there Stone Giants?'
Bekki laughed. 'Ah, my friend, let me ask you this: why are there Waerans?'
Now Tip laughed under his protective covering. 'Unh, I see what you mean.'
They rode a bit farther and came to a stream, the water silted grey. Under an oak, Bekki found a pool, and
