The night was a frightful one. On the stony ground at the foot of the mountains, Frockle and Bion both tossed uneasily. All throughout his sleep, Bion woke frequently thinking he heard, faint but clear, the talking and wailing of distant voices upon the wind. At first the dwarf thought these voices had come only from within his dark dreams; but upon waking he was certain that he heard them still, echoing faintly from deep within the Mountains above. Looking up and peering into the darkness, Bion saw that Goldenfield paced silently nearby, and so he was not alarmed; but he was fearful, and his dreams continued to be unpleasant. He woke finally about an hour before dawn, and he chose to remain up; the East had grown pale with the morning light, but the sun had not yet risen above the horizon. He was looking forward to the familiar feel of stone under his feet, and he felt too alert now to attempt sleep again. He drank some water and ate a piece of waybread from his pack. Bion's heart was glad to be going back north, for it was a climate which suited him better; although at times a strange silence fell over the dwarf, and secretly his thoughts wandered back to his visit to the Golden Forest, and deep within harboured a wish to return.
        Frockle was still asleep when Bion rolled up the blanket on which he had slept, and gathered together his belongings. The morning was cold and grey, and when the sun finally did rise it was hidden behind thick, dark clouds. The Mountains seemed black and barren now, and the sight of them was not now as comforting to Bion as he let his companions believe. Waiting before them were several hours of rough walking across the rocky foothills that stretched wide at the base of the Mountains. Then they would be forced to climb upward and employ Bion's skills in searching for a pass. He now approached Goldenfield, who stood silently looking at the Mountains.
        "Did you hear anything in the night?" asked Bion.
        "Do you mean the voices?" said the Elf. "Yes, I heard them. Voices full of sorrow and torment, echoing faintly over the hills like the merest breeze. I do not know what it means. Once we climb into the mountains maybe we shall find the people who weep in the night."
        The thought was unsettling to Bion, but he said no more. Frockle woke shortly thereafter, and ate his cold and cheerless breakfast. Bion asked Frockle the same question: if he had heard the noises during the night, but the pixie said that he slept so soundly that he had not.

        The bleak morning turned into a bleak afternoon, as they made their way slowly across the rough terrain. Cold rain came in short intervals throughout the day, making their hair hang dripping in their faces, and deep thunder softly rumbled now and again, shaking the ground beneath their feet. Big black crows sat on the rocks, cawing loudly and leaping into the air as they approached.
        "There are many carrion-birds here," said Goldenfield. "What an unwholesome place this is. It has the smell of death."
        "I do admit these mountains have an evil feeling about them," said Bion. "I did not say that all mountains are good, just as you would not say all forests are. I would that we were far away from this place, and the sooner the better."
        The smell of death was discovered to be a dead animal nearby; they could not tell what it was, but they saw the brown fur of it. Soon afterwards the land rose sharply, and they were into the mountains. Bion had been heading towards a deep cleft during their walk, and now it loomed ahead of them. A shallow, rocky ravine led upward in its direction, and soon they entered into it.

        At first the going was not difficult, and they were able to walk normally for a good portion of the way into the ravine. At its high end, however, they had to use their hands a good deal to scramble over the large boulders that lay across their way. They halted when they reached the wide pass at the top of the cleft, and rested there a while. Frockle looked back down, and he did not realize they had gone so far or climbed so high; the grey foothills below looked like small scattered stones to him now. He turned and looked ahead. Before them were more black mountains: sheer and foreboding. He had many doubts about his ability to make it through these mountains, for he had a great fear of heights.
        The day seemed to grow dark far too early, as if time sped on hurriedly. The way ahead of them went deep down into the dark valley between the arms of the mountains. It was not a wide valley, only three or four miles, but there was something about it that did not inspire the companions into rushing ahead into it.
        "There is a watchfulness here," said Goldenfield quietly.
        "Are there Demons nearby?" asked Frockle.
        "Yes," answered the Elf, "but it is not them of which I am speaking. The Foul Folk are not close enough to trouble us. There is something else I feel; something that is with us here, that has watched us arrive, and is displeased. I am sorry; I did not mean to trouble you with my thoughts. Come, we should start to move. The sooner started, the sooner finished."

        The way that they took through the valley was filled with large boulders and deep jagged cracks that opened up treacherously before them in the darkness. Bion led them safely through, as if he knew the lay of the land. He did not, however, but was in fact reading the land before him as he went with the skill that only a Dwarf can possess. They soon began to climb again, when suddenly Goldenfield spoke.
        "It looks like there is a pass here to our left," he said. "There the mountains are not so high, and a cleft cuts deep into them."
        "Hmm," said Bion as he stopped and looked. "Nay, the lay of the range here does not suggest to me that it would yield a good path. I will choose the right-hand way, for there is a breach there also, and it is more open beyond. It looks as if it will offer more shelter there as well, for we cannot go much further before we need to stop for the night."
        They proceeded towards the right, and into the pass that Bion had suggested. They reached it presently, and after only a few minutes of walking within it, the dwarf cried out: "I chose well! There are steps up ahead here, cut into the face of the rock. That is a strange thing to come upon; but it will make our passage easier than it yet has been. It has been a tiring march."
        Frockle was glad to hear that there were stairs ahead, for he was as weary now as when he trod through the bog. He liked mountains only as a view, he had decided, and henceforth would keep his distance from them. The air was thin to him, and breathing was difficult at times. Frockle noticed that Goldenfield frequently looked back to the road behind, and he asked him about it.
        "The Demons that we eluded in the old woods have not given up," Goldenfield answered. "Add to their number the ones who dwell in caverns beneath these mountains, and you will know why I look behind. I fear that even now we are pursued, and we dare not rest for long no matter how tired we become."
        The stone stairs they came up to were very old, for they were worn and cracked, and ascended almost straight up like a ladder at times. They became broader and less steep after a while, making it much easier for the companions, but the stair began winding sharply along the mountain's face. At times when they reached up for a hand hold, or placed a foot on the stone of the stairs, the rock cracked and split underfoot, nearly sending them all down to the sharp rocks far below. They went ahead only very slowly. As day grew into night, the prospect of climbing this ancient and treacherous stair in the darkness became a terrifying thought. They had gone too far to turn back, and it continuously looked as if they had only a short way to go, and yet as they thought they neared the end, more stairs appeared around some sudden bend.
        At last they reached the top, well more than an hour after they started, and they were very high up. They were standing in a wide clearing overlooking the valley below. The path ahead of them lay between two high cliff walls, yet the way was all covered in shadow. Night had just fallen, and the sky was dark and very clear. Behind them down in the valley the darkness had settled like a pool of black water; yet this was a pool which had some sparkles of light on its surface.
        "There are fires down below," said Bion. "Demons are in the valley behind us. Do they know of us way up here, I wonder?"
        "The fires do not move," said Goldenfield. "I would guess they are campfires, not torches. But that means little: Demons see well in the dark. But so do Elves!"

 

 

*Material copyright 2000 by Kenneth E. Harding.  All rights reserved. No duplication or reproduction without permission.