The exodus from Thrond was a spectacle Farin knew she would often look back on. The pain and weeping, coupled with the ardor to regroup and reclaim the realm, could be felt in the air as the throng of survivors began their unified retreat to Cloud Hammer. Vengeful threats were shouted, along with a chorus of people chanting Ror’s name. The Crownless King, some called him. He looked like a king, in his mannarim armor and ram-horned helm. Always he walked at the fore of the train, and whenever he stood on any high place he would turn back to the people and raise his warhammer high in the air.

After a week of walking they made camp in a large hollow near a glacier fed lake. The hollow was rich and green, with dense forests covering the surrounding foothills. Most of the men from the Hunter’s House had been conscripted for the defense of Ormazum, and many of them fell, leaving amateur huntsmen and hunstwomen to bring in game from the woods. Farin tried and failed miserably, making more noise than the goblin army had when they attacked.

“It’s not you the deer are running from,” Nava said after Farin stumbled over a root, causing the large buck they were stalking to bolt. “Beasts smell fear, they say, and I’m as craven as they come. That there buck saw you and thought ‘Oy, that’s the lady who took a quarrel for her princess, then ran into the night to fight a drow army all by herself’. Then he looked at me and thought ‘Oy, that’s the girl who ran and hid with the children and the human woman who can’t fight, then got lost, then almost cracked herself over the head with her own weapon while her princess and wedmother handled a veteran troll warrior without any help from her. She must be the one wafting all that stink around,’ and off he went.”

Farin laughed, mostly at the absurdity of Nava’s words. Every time Farin saw the girl, she was heading into the woods with her bow, coming back with game, or helping the heartsmiths care for the old and wounded. 

“You are many things, child,” Farin said, “but craven? Ha! Help me back to camp. I’ll get lost if I go alone.”

The women slung their bows over their shoulders and Farin followed Nava through the woods. She didn’t care for the surface world. The sky was a strange and alien thing to her, full of unknown danger and mystery. One could l ook upwards inside a the deepest parts of a mountain and determine from the walls what lie above them, no matter how high or dark the chasm. The sky was an endless nothing, and the constant still blue color unnerved her.

“I find it peaceful,” Nava said. “The sun seems to be smiling, and the sky is calm and blue like the sea because the sun has no cause for worry.”

“It’s a ball of fire hanging over the world,” Farin replied. “Of course it has nothing to fear. It’s us who should be frightened. The sky could strike at us without any warning, and what we could we do back?” Farin reached for Nava as her foot caught under a root. Nava caught her in her strong grip and pulled her upward.

“I hate it out here,” Farin said.

“It’s not so bad,” Nava replied. “You just got to look down instead of up. Titan’s piles, I need to sit a moment.”

“No you don’t. There’s no point feigning weakness for me. You were born for this. You and your father both. I’m useless outside my forge.”

“I could teach you to skin game if you like. Then you could boil the hide and make leather armor. It would be good protection for the children and older ones.”

“And it would keep me from complaining.”

Nava laughed. “‘Neri, I will pay you to teach her.”

Farin stopped and sighed. “I’m sorry Nava. It must be a real chore putting up with me.” Farin knew hadn’t said a kind or hopeful word since they were chased from their realm, and when she wasn’t winging she was deathly silent, wondering how their kingdom had fallen so suddenly, and fearing the unknown terror of the alien sky.

“Farin,” Nava’s voice was calm and sincere, “we’re all hurting now. What was done to us when dad was taken away, that’s been done to the entire kingdom. Don’t be angry at yourself. Be angry at the enemy.”

I am my enemy, Farin thought. She smiled weakly, then they started off again. There was some sort of commotion in the camp when they returned. Nava urgently pushed through the crowd and Farin struggled to keep up with her, distracted by the disorienting softness of the ground.

They eventually gave up trying to fight the crowd, and found their way to the outskirts of the camp. From there they could see that people were congregating around Prince Ror’s tent. They hurried to the edge of the crowd to look again for a way through. Nava eventually patted an old man on the shoulder and asked him what the stir was over.

“Prince Halfur and Princess Yemi have returned!” he said joyfully.

Farin felt her heart swell in her chest. With the royal brood united, the people would be stronger, and hope would blaze all the brighter.

Nava darted passed a pair of women, then reached through the crowd and dragged Farin by the hand. They wove their way slowly through until at last they found themselves facing a member of the Stone Guard. The guards had formed a ring around Ror’s tent, and there was a crowd of CHieftains and officials standing just outside the entrance to his pavilion. 

“I guess we’ll just have to wait,” Nava said. “At least we can see.”

Farin did not want to wait. “I’m a citadel smith,” she told the guard. The man stood still. “I forged Prince Balvor’s armor!” she said intently. 

The guard looked at her coldly for a moment, his face hidden behind his soot grey barbute. “Then we have you to thank for his death.” It was a woman’s voice, and her words stabbed into Farin like a spear.

She collected herself before she spoke. “You’re Rykka. Rykka Voluspa. I’ve heard of you. Perhaps you’ve heard of me. I’m the Iron Maiden, wife of Koll Ladhu, friend of Princess Klar. You’ll let us pass, or you’ll hear some stern words from your Princess.”

Rykka held Farin’s gaze for what seemed an eternity, then slowly stepped to the side. Farin and Nava hurried passed and squeezed their way through a few of the people gathered at the entrance to Ror’s tent. She stood on her tip toes and saw Buri in the center of the tent. He was looking downward, as was everyone. She spied the crown of Koll’s head before dropping back on her heels.

“Did you see dad?” Nava whispered. Everyone around them was whispering, and she could hear quiet sobs coming from deeper inside.

“He’s in the middle of the tent, next to Buri. I couldn’t see what was happening.”

Nava tugged on an old man’s sleeve. He was wearing a fine robe of black velvet lined with gold rings. “Pardons,” Nava said, “but would you mind telling us what’s happened? My mother’s a citadel smith, and my dad is the doomed man.”

The old man smiled. “Your father saved the lives of my wife and children.”

Nava smiled and turned red. “I’m glad he did. I hear sobbing from inside the tent. Has someone been hurt?”

The old man nodded gravely. “Prince Halfur. He’s been run through by a dozen swords, and they were pursued by gnolls across the hills. King Salimod is behind it all.”

Farin’s heart froze. She pressed through the crowd heedless of complaint until she stood by her husband. Koll took her hand and pulled her close to him. She looked down and saw Halfur laying on Ror’s bed. His flesh was deathly grey, and sweat poured from his brow. He was naked save for bandages wrapped thickly about his belly and waist. The bandage around his belly was soaked with blood, and a small army of heartsmiths were busily changing them and washing his wound. Klar, Yemi and Ror all knelt by his side. The sobs came from Yemi, who clutched fervently at Halfur’s hand.

“What happened?” Klar whispered. “An old man at the door said they were attacked by gnolls, and Salimod was behind it.”

Just then Nava appeared. Tears ran down her cheeks the moment she looked on Halfur.

“The gnolls aided them,” Koll said. “Salimod tried to bury them in their chambers under the castle, then sent assassins after them when they escaped. The Captain of the Owl Guard was with them, and he negotiated with the gnolls for their help.”

Farin looked at Ror. He was leaning close to Halfur, who muttered feverishly, and his face was as hard and dark as the doors of Malgond. Halfur spoke for quite some time. Now and then his speech was broken by fits of bloody coughing, and at times his words slurred into a drawn out wheeze. Ror listened intently, and Klar starred at the ground blankly while Yemi wept. There was a boy Farin didn’t recognize sitting on floor next to Yemi. He rocked back and forth and was playing with the corner of a blanket that hung from Ror’s bed. If he was a friend of the princess, he was doing a poor job at comforting her.

“What will Ror do?” Farin asked Koll. He shrugged and shook his head. Farin looked to Buri, but his face was silent and distant, and she may as well not have even been there. 

“Do you think they might want to be alone?” said Nava.

Farin looked at the girl. Narrow channels glistened down her cheeks, and she was looking down with pity on the royal children. Farin pressed her hand against Koll’s chest. “Nava’s right, Koll. The family should be left alone. Koll…”

He stirred and looked at her, then nodded and looked to Buri. Buri leaned down and Koll whispered in his ear. Buri nodded, and then spoke to a pair of other big men in maille. They quickly went to work clearing the room. Farin had hoped to be allowed to stay, thinking her friendship with Klar would afford her the opportunity to ask questions, but they too were ushered out.

Without the distraction of Halfur’s return, Farin was left with her fearful thoughts. Koll tried engaging her in various tasks, and she worked alongside him with each one; building fishing weirs for the stream that ran out of the lake north side of the hollow, gathering herbs for the heartsmiths, or chopping vegetables for the cooks. No matter what she did, Farin’s mind raced, but she endured until the day was done before opening her mind to her husband. All the while Nava was sitting at a nearby firepit with some of the army captains. She seemed to have formed a fast friendship with the Owl Captain who came back with Prince Halfur.

“No one could have expected this,” Koll said.

“How are you feeling?” she asked. She wanted to give him a chance to lean on her, before she needed to make use of his strength.

“I’m in shock, I suppose,” he said. “I keep expecting to wake in our bed at the citadel. But then, I’ve been expecting to wake somewhere other than where I am since coming back from the Underguard. I wonder if now will ever feel like now again to me, or if I’m doomed to wander through the rest of my life out of place in time.”

Farin wanted to offer some sort of solution to what he said, but it was a  thing she herself had grown frustrated with, so she just nodded. “I’ve heard talk of Valung betraying Thrond, letting the goblins come up the Lonely Ohr.”

“I’ve heard the same.” Koll turned the spit over their fire. The row of pheasants stuck on the spear of wood glistened in the firelight, and the flames beneath leapt hungrily at the rivulets of grease dripping from the fowl.

“Do you think it’s true? You never speak of Valung.”

Koll leaned back against the log they sat against and stretched his legs. “Valung,” he said softly, looking upward to the stars. Ferenrar was waning to the east, and Emvolo’s hoof was directly overhead. “Valung is a terrible man. And yet, we all admired him, while he could be more savage than any creature we defended the realm against, we were glad to have him as out captain. I don’t doubt him capable of betraying King Grar. But all of Thrond? No. I think what Chieftain Brann told us accounts for the doomed being absent when the goblins came up the Lonely Ohr.”

A pair of young girls no older than Princess Yemi came by with flagons and mugs. “Cider?” one of them said. Koll smile and thanked her, and they left them with two mugs and a flagon. Farin set the flagon near the fire.

“If only Chieftain Brann had known the goblins would attack us from beneath, he may have bid Valung to stay and guard us, and we would be in our bed at the citadel.”

Koll rested his head on her shoulder. She welcomed his touch. “How are you feeling, my love?” he asked.

“Frightened,” she said. “We were assailed by three kins, one of whom we’ve never seen. They came upon us from Forvangur, Ormazum, the citadel, and the underlands. Is there no safe place? Even here we’re in danger.”

“The trolls,” Koll lifted his head. “Or whatever they’re truly called. I hear people say they came from the underlands, but in all my time down there I saw only animals and abominations, no lost kindred.”

“The six kins. That’s the phrase, is it not? Now gnolls are roaming the wilds, and a kin never seen is dwelling in our homeland. I could manage my fears when they were of things I knew. But now, I’m afraid of every corner I turn. What new enemies are still laying in wait? Will this new kin be the last, or are they heralds of an even greater invasion?”

“How did the goblins and drow make their acquaintence?” Koll leaned forward and took the spit off the fire. He inclined it towards Farin and she took one of the birds. She bit into the breast hard, tearing juicy meat off by the mouthful. She hadn’t noticed her hunger until the grease from the birds sizzled into the fire. 

“The drow live deeper underground than we,” she said in between bites, “and the goblins live just about everywhere. They would be the likely ones to discover a new kin. And why not stir them against Thrond? Is there a grander place to conquer with a strong new ally? With us gone, the goblins and drow have control of the greatest supply of mannarim in all the world, and these trolls likely know nothing of it.”. She laughed, recalling the tale of Old Troll in His Muddy Hole. “Was it Ror who named them trolls?”.

“I think so,” Koll said. Grease dribbled down his chin into his long, black beard. He was smiling.

“Old Troll sat in his hole...” Farin said.

“... Rank as a privy and blind as a mole,” Koll finished.

They laughed for a moment, then shared a greasy kiss. Koll’s eyes were bright, and his face hard and gaunt. Farin marvelled at this new man that had risen from the darkness and come into her life. The Koll she lost was kind and soft, and knew only prices and sums. This man was a blooded warrior, born to carry the weak through storms, and Farin felt weaker now than she ever had. She put her hand on his har, gaunt face. “Never leave me again,” she said.

“I won’t.” He leaned forward and kissed her.

“You may have to,” said a low voice. They looked upward and saw Buri towering over them.

“What’s happened?” she asked. They both stood. Farin looked passed Buri to Ror’s tent. It had been closed to all save the Chieftains, but was now open and a number of the older officials were milling in and out.

“We’re going to battle,” said Buri.

Farin’s heart froze. “With who?”

Ror came up behind him and looked at both her and Koll. “I need you both. You Farin, to make weapons, and you Koll, to wield them.”

They both bowed. “Dread Highness,” she said, her voice wavering, “may I ask, if it doesn’t displease you, is it not soon to be returning to Thrond? Surely we’ll need to muster allies. I mean, we’re yours to command. I don’t mean to challenge you, Dread Highness, I’m only repeating what I’ve heard others say.”

There was a cold rattle of hatred in the prince’s voice when he answered her. “We’re not marching on Thrond.”

Less than an hour later, Farin and the other surviving citadel smiths were directing an army of young dwarves to build makeshift forges in caves dug into the surrounding foothills. Every male dwarf old enough to fight was given a stick to swing, and Koll joined the other veteran soldiers in drilling the men on basic maneuvers. She even helped the sappers by making striking rods for their explosive kits, and small but sharp spades for quickly digging out of stone. The whole next week was a blur to her, as all the vast throng of refugees worked at a fever pitch to put together a fighting force that would roll over High Alden like a tidal wave.