the smell of coal and sulfur and most of all mead. He could see again the strong, tall columns that supported the greatest chambers of his own home and believed that those of legendary Mithral Hall would probably exceed even those magnificent works by far.
Yes, to Ivan's thinking, as much as he loved Cadderly, Danica, and the kids, it would be grand to be among his own kind again, and in a place fashioned to the tastes of dwarves.
He looked over at Pikel as he considered his anticipation and wondered, hoped, that perhaps being in a place like Mithral Hall might go a long way into guiding the "doo-dad" back to his true heritage. If Pikel could fashion such work as this raft out of wood, Ivan had to wonder how magnificent his art might be when working with the true dwarven materials of stone and metal.
Of course, Ivan's budding fantasy would have been more convincing to him if, in the middle of his contemplations, Pikel hadn't summoned down a large and incredibly ugly bird to his upheld forearm, then engaged in a long and seemingly detailed conversation with the creature.
"Talkin' to yer own level?" Ivan asked dryly when the vulture flew away.
Pikel turned to his brother with a surprisingly serious expression, then pointed to the western bank and began steering the raft that way.
Ivan knew better than to argue. His often silly brother had proven too many times that the information he could garner from animals could prove vital. Besides, the river was getting a bit more vigorous and Ivan longed to put his feet on solid ground once more.
As soon as they had the boat beached, Pikel grabbed his large sack of supplies, plopped his cooking pot over his head, and leaped away, rushing for the higher ground away from the riverbank. Ivan caught up to him a short time later, on a rocky mound.
Pikel pointed to the southwest, to a cluster of activity against the backdrop of the gray mountains.
"Dwarfs," Ivan remarked.
He narrowed his eyes and shielded them from the glare with his hand. He nodded, affirming his own observation. They were indeed dwarves, and had to be from Mithral Hall, all rushing around, apparently working on defensive fortifications.
He looked back to his brother but found Pikel already moving, cutting a straight line for the construction. Side-by-side they ran along the gently sloping ground, first down then up a steep trail.
A short time later came a roaring command, "Halt and be known! Be liked or be skewered!"
The brothers, understanding the seriousness of that tone, skidded to a stop before the closed iron gates set at the front of a stone wall.
A burly red-bearded dwarf in full battle-mail rushed out through those gates.
"Well, ye don't look like orcs and ye don't smell like orcs," he said. "Though I'm not for certain what yerself looks and smells like," he added, scrutinizing Pikel.
"Doo-dad," Pikel remarked,
"Ivan Bouldershoulder at yer service, and I'm thinking ye must be in service to King Bruenor. This is me brother Pikel. We're coming outta Carradoon and the Snowflake Mountains, sent by High Priest Cadderly Bonaduce to serve as witnesses to the new king's coronation."
The soldier nodded, his expression showing that while he might not have understood all that Ivan had just said, he seemed to get the gist of it and seemed to think it a perfectly reasonable explanation.
"Cadderly's a friend of that drow elf that runs about with yer soon-to-be king," Ivan explained, drawing a knowing nod from the soldier. "He's still soon-to-be, ain't he?"
The soldier's expression turned sour for just a moment, his crusty features lightening, then widened in understanding.
"We ain't crowned him yet, as he ain't been in from Icewind Dale." "We feared we'd miss him," Ivan said.
"Ye would've if he'd've come right in," the soldier explained, "but him and his found orcs on the road and're chasin' them down and putting them back in their filthy holes."
Ivan nodded with sincere admiration. "Good king," he said, and the soldier beamed. "Small band and nothin' more, so it won't be long," the soldier explained. He turned to the side and motioned for the brothers to come along. "We're a bit short o' the ale out here," he explained. "Come out fast from the halls to set the camp, while our brothers are up there on the west, setting another."
"Just a small band?" Ivan asked skeptically.
"We're not for taking any chances, Ivan Bouldershoulder," the soldier explained. "We been fighting much o' late, and not too