Phais looked at Loric and, at his nod, turned to the Waer-linga. "Agreed, Sir-agreed, Tipperton; agreed, Beau. Mayhap in court we will speak of ye as Sirs, but thou dost speak true in that living on dirt and eating field rations certainly is not special."
Beau laughed, then said, "Not special unless 'specially bad' qualifies."
Grinning all, and with Loric leading and Phais trailing, they set off upslope once again.
"Lor'," said Beau, his voice sounding hollow in the darkness of the narrow way, "Raggi was right. A fat pony couldn't make it. Why, I can reach out and touch both sides."
Though the Warrows walked upright, in the lead Loric stooped low as he made his way through the natural rock tunnel. Bringing up the rear, Phais did the same.
"Huah," grunted Tip. "Not only a fat pony but a tall one as well-neither could make it through… and as I said before, given their shoulders the Dwarves would have to walk sideways."
They rounded a turn and ahead an arch of light showed they had come to the end, and shortly they emerged into the sunlight.
"Two furlongs, I make it," said Loric, ere any could ask.
"Why don't the Dwarves enlarge it?" asked Beau. "I mean, with their skill at carving mountains-"
"Because," interjected Tip, "were it made wider, it likely would become a well-known route. This way the Dwarves keep it hidden. Besides, if they were being pursued, here just one Dwarf could hold off an army of foe." "Oh," said Beau, enlightened, as on down the slope they fared, the path now heading down the opposite side, though crags and bluffs and massifs stood in the way of Valon.
As the day grew toward evening and they took up the trek again, Beau's eyes widened. "I say, Tip, I just thought of something."
Tip looked at Beau, a question in his eyes.
"Just this," said Beau. "Dwarves are not men."
Tip frowned. "And…?"
"Don't you see: 'Seek the aid of those not men,' she said, did Rael, 'to quench the fires of war.' Well, we were aided by the Dwarves-Dwarves who are not men. Perhaps their aid will mean the quenching of the fires of war."
Now Tip's own eyes widened at the thought. "But Beau, that assumes the rede she spoke was meant for us, and I don't see how that can be."
"I don't see how it can be, either, bucco, but let's keep it in mind just in case. Remember, a small event in one place can cause great catastrophe in another; all things are somehow connected, you know."
Tip shook his head but made no reply as onward they pressed down the way.
Down they strode and down, and came to a place where at last they could see out across the land ahead, out where a vast grassy plain swept to the horizon and beyond. Yet Tip gasped in dismay, for in the far distance a pall of black smoke curled into the afternoon sky.
Upon Valon burned War.
Chapter 25
They reached the eastern foot of the Walkover just as the waning half-moon rose, shining her argent light aglance across the tall grass of Valon.
"We'll camp here among the concealing crags, then set out on the morrow," said Loric, unbuckling his backpack.
"But what about the smoke we saw, the fire out there on the plains?" asked Beau. "I mean, shouldn't we go see if anyone needs our help?"
Loric glanced at Phais, then shook his head. "I deem we look upon another Stede, another Annory, Sir- Beau. 'Twas entirely too late when first we espied the burning."
Tip nodded glumly. "Besides, it's another good twenty or so miles to the site, and even if we went straightaway without any rest, still we wouldn't get there till late in the morning, perhaps at the noontide."
"Oh, my," said Beau dejectedly. "I was hoping it was closer… in miles as well as time. But to walk all night and not get there till noon, well, to tell the truth, I don't think I can go on without a bit of a lull. I mean, it isn't every day that I've gone climbing with a pack on my back up over the Gunarring and down again."
" 'Tis more or less on our path, Beau," said Phais, "and so the morrow should bring us to what burns upon the plain. But for now thou art right: 'tis rest we need."
Tip set his pack to the ground and sighed in relief, then looked back at the Gunarring. "Will it ever get any easier? This walking about, I mean."
Loric nodded "The farther we walk, the easier 'twill be, for our packs will fare lighter as the food dwindles. Our strength and endurance will grow as we cross the plains unto Darda Galion."
Beau groaned. "Oh, surely we aren't going to have to walk all the way to the Eldwood. I mean, there must be some place we can purchase horses… or ponies."
Kneeling at her backpack and untying the thongs on her bedroll, Phais sighed. "With war upon the land, who can say?"
Tip looked across at the Dara. "How soon will we reach the Eldwood if we go on foot all the way?"
Phais cocked an eyebrow at Loric. "If we tarry not," he replied, "a fortnight and some should see us there."
"A fortnight? fourteen days?"
"Aye. 'Tis nearly a hundred leagues."
"Three hundred miles?"
"Aye, three hundred miles, Tipperton. And can we walk seven leagues a day, then a fortnight 'twill be."
Tip groaned. "Twenty-one miles a day for fourteen days-oh, my aching feet."
Beau snorted and said, "Huah, Tip, compared to our slip-sliding on ice most of the way through Drearwood, this little jaunt to the Eldwood will be a lark. I mean, what could be better than walking on soft sod across a grassy plain? Besides, bucco, you've got to remember, given the choices we faced, this is the quickest way."
Tip cast his friend a skeptical eye, but did not respond as he groaned to his feet preparatory to standing the first short turn at watch.
Just after dawn they set out northeastward across the rolling plains of Valon, the prairie covered with tall grass as far as the eye could see. Though the grass itself came to midthigh on the Elves, it was chest high on the Warrows, and it rippled in long green waves, stirred by a morning breeze blowing down from the Gunarring behind. Far across the rolling land, a thin smudge of smoke yet stained the sky, drifting up and eastward, driven by the breeze as well. And toward the unseen origin of this smear they trod.
"What if it is a town like Annory-burnt, destroyed with a passle of maggot-folk camped therein?" asked Beau. "What'11 we do, the four of us?"
Phais sighed. "Pass it by."
"You mean just leave them alone?" asked Tip.
Phais nodded. "Aye. Most likely they will be too many and we too few."
Tip growled. "But the Dwarves attacked nineteen foe, and they were only five."
Loric shook his head in resignation. "The Drimma are a fierce race, where honor stands well above prudence. Aye, they attacked nineteen head-on, with axes swinging, depending on surprise and brute force to quickly carry the day. Yet were we faced with the same odds, I would hope that we would use stealth and cunning and guile to accomplish the same ends. Yet heed: stealth and cunning and guile take time, and should we come across a large number of foe, would we soon accomplish this mission to Agron, then we must pass them by."
Tip frowned, and Phais, noting his look, said, "Tipper-ton, if we are to engage every foe 'tween here and Dendor in Aven, then I suspect it will be many a year ere we see Agron King."
"Even so," added Loric, " 'tis meet we gather knowledge of the foe along the way, and pass on such particulars to those who need to know."
"Somewhat like scouts?" asked Beau. "-I mean, as long as we don't stray too far from our mission to Agron in Aven, that is."