Chapter the Thirty Fifth: On Diplomatic Relations With Stone KingsAfter helping out the dwarven miners, it occurred to me that getting permission to enter the Dredge would be a rather trivial task. I didn't want to try sneaking past the guards if there was an easy way to avoid it, and it would also be wise to remain on their good side. I wandered off towards the throne room, in the direction the entrance guard had pointed me what seemed like so long ago. The hallway leading up to it was wide and heavily guarded. Dwarves wearing suits of finely crafted plate lined the walls at even intervals, not even moving a muscle as I walked past. Their patience and discipline was remarkable
The hallway itself had to be at least twice my height, which was particularly impressive considering I was in the home of dwarves. Even a half ogre would be comfortable visiting here. I proceeded past massive torches that looked as though they'd been burning steadily for years and, at last, I was admitted through a thick set of double doors made out of pure mithril. They swung open far too gently and easily to be made of steel, and the peculiar blue luster betrayed their true nature.
The King greeted me coldly as I entered his well-decorated throne room. It was about then that I realized I'd entirely forgotten to change back into more suitable attire and I was still parading around in my combat gear. It was not only rude to a dwarf of such high stature, but I also smelled like a sewer. Embarrassed, I choked out, "I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met..."
The dwarf nodded proudly and introduced himself, "I am Randver Thunder Stone, son of Loghaire Thunder Stone. I stand as chieftain and King-in-Waiting of all the dwarves, both over- and under-mountain, in the lands of Arcanum. Welcome to the caverns of the Wheel Clan."
Bloody hell, Loghaire's not even here, I get his bloody twit of a son instead. I secretly fumed, hoping Randver wouldn't notice. I had been hoping to take care of my other business while asking permission to go into the Dredge and now things were growing increasingly more complicated. "King-in-Waiting, you say?"
Well, at least Loghaire's still around. "I see. I'm in need of your assistance.... I come with news of a most dire nature, related to the Black Mountain Clan." I told him of my suspicious encounter with Stennar, and my subsequent searches of the Black Mountain Clan mines and the Isle of Despair. "There were no signs of the Black Mountain Clan on the Isle of Despair either, and I even brought Thorvald Two Stones back to confirm it." Randver listened patiently and when I finished he remained lost in thought for quite some time before speaking.
It seemed like Randver had some information for me after all. I supposed talking with Loghaire wouldn't really be necessary as long as I knew where I could go next. Obviously the Black Mountain Clan dwarves weren't holed up in the caverns of the Wheel Clan, and I didn't plan on giving up my search for them. "Blast who? The elves? What is going on here?"
Randver shook his head sadly, "This is an old and dark business... the business of my father. And as I am his heir, it falls to me to make this right. But I know not what to do! He told me so little..."
Oh hell, I'm going to have to talk to the true King anyway, aren't I? I sighed, "Please tell me what happened to your father, Randver."
He sounds like a wonderful dwarf... who happens to have exiled the entire Black Mountain Clan to god knows where and now he's conspicuously absent when I want to ask him about it. I remembered once again these Clan Wars that Thrayne had neglected to tell me about and thought I might be able to get some more information out of Randver. It was off topic, but dammit I was curious. "The Clan Wars?"
"Yes... a sad time in our history," he began. Finally, somebody that's willing to talk to me even if I do smell like a sewer. "For five-hundred years, there was a rift among the dwarves. We built great machines of war, and threw ourselves against one another, and entire clans were lost in the battles. A dark time, the time of Lorek's insanity. We speak very little of that time..."
Yes, I've noticed. "Who was Lorek?" I didn't want the flow of information to stop so shortly after it had started.
Randver glared at me firmly, "I've said we don't often speak of it. That's a conversation for another time, perhaps..."
Dwarves also seem to have an odd fascination with mentioning things they'd rather not talk about. I steered the topic of conversation back onto its proper course. "Where is Loghaire, Randver? What happened to him?"
Hmph. If you're not going to speak of Lorek, then don't bloody speak of him. Gudmund had mentioned betrayal, and Randver's words assured me that the tale of the betrayer was going to be an interesting one. Far more interesting than the tale of Bates' betrayal, although that, too, was a story I looked forward to sharing one day. "Please, Randver. I need to know what has happened here..."
Randver shook his head and visibly calmed himself before continuing on. "It is as the Ore Bender told you. My father permitted the banishment of his own people. By the elves. He watched them sent away, heard their cries, with hardness born of a hundred generations of Thunder Stones.
"My father came home, and upon his knees cried out for his lost, foolish brethren. Tears of regret, stranger. Regret, shame, and sorrow. The caverns shook with his fury, shook at the impact of his hands upon bare stone. He tore the clothes from his body, and set his bulk against the walls and the floors, and his sorrow was marked in blood.
"He left us... walked into the old caverns with nothing but Harrow, first-axe of the Thunder Stones. And with that weapon he disappeared, exiled by his own grief, and left the Wheel Clan. He's never returned."
This time it was me who stayed silent as his story finished. It seemed as though I'd judged Loghaire perhaps too harshly. There was definitely more at work here than I'd initially realized and I intended to find out what. "I'm very sorry, Randver, but I must get to the bottom of this. Please, tell me what the elves have to do with this."
"What crimes? What had the Black Mountain Clan done?" I had my suspicion, but I wanted to hear it from Randver's mouth. I didn't want to presume to know any detail, lest I miss something else of greater importance.
Randver grew angry again, and I couldn't really blame him for it. "Technology! Manipulation of natural force, the stone- and gearworks that make men gods! This, our legacy, given into the hands of reckless children. And the disease has spread... and the cost, stranger! Oh, the bloody cost...!"
I tried to calm him down, get him to focus on what was really important to the discussion. "Gudmund spoke of Gilbert Bates...?"
Yes, that's more the information I'm looking for. "Who were these elves?"
Randver calmed, and slumped his shoulders. "I've no idea. And I know not why my father felt it necessary to speak with them, nor to heed their demands. As King, my father never should have allowed them to interfere, but for some reason he allowed it. He's never spoken a word about it since."
Something still seemed utterly strange about the whole situation. The question of 'why' Loghaire had given in to the elves was one that desperately needed answering, and the sooner the better. "What did the rest of the clans say?"
It all comes down to this after all. Although it would be helpful to get all of the information I could before leaving Randver, that time was rapidly coming upon me. Loghaire simply hadn't told anybody else enough information for me to be able to continue. "It seems I'll have to speak with Loghaire. Where is he?"
Randver fixed his gaze upon me again, firm and unbending. "I told you... he exiled himself. He walked into the Dredge, and has never returned..."
Dam- wait, actually, I was going to go there anyway. I suppose this will work out fine. "Where can I find the Dredge?"
He sighed heavily, "The entrance is just beyond the entrance to these chambers and to the southeast. There you will find a stone archway. Beyond that you will find the Dredge, into which my father disappeared..."
I was hesitant to go to the bottom of a dark and abandoned mine without having any idea of what I would even say to Loghaire. I didn't want to barge in on him and simply start levelling accusations. What I really needed was more information, even if Randver didn't seem like he had any more to give. I decided to try anyway. Sometimes getting the right answer is all in the wording of the question. "There is one thing I don't understand, Randver. Why, exactly, was your father so ashamed?"
He scoffed aloud, incredulous that I even bothered to ask. "That's a complicated discussion, friend. One I'm not sure you'd fully be able to understand..."
I looked at him straight in the eyes, making a show of my determination. "I believe my mental powers are up to the task..."
Yes, this is exactly what I was looking for... if I understand him then it will be easier to gain his trust. Loghaire certainly wasn't going to tell a suspicious stranger details of his sorrowful past that he hadn't even shared with his own son. Getting him to trust me would be crucial. "You spoke of dwarven traditions... of which do you speak?"
He seemed to struggle with the words, trying to think of a good way to explain things in terms a human could understand. "Perhaps tradition is the wrong word. Philosophy might be a better one, though we dwarves rarely consider ourselves philosophers. A philosophy, as most know it, infers a certain amount of subjective opinion, and a particular open-mindedness towards other trains of thought. What I speak of is different...
"I'm talking about the stuff of dwarven souls, the tenets we live by, our moral fiber... though morality plays no part in it. Not morality as most know it. What I speak of, friend, is what is known as the Stone and the Shape...
"To be a Dwarf... what does this mean? Our character is defined through the immovability, the solidity of stone. We dwarves see the soul not as something ephemeral or transient... but as rooted in this reality as the mountains from which we carve our homes... do you understand?"
Dwarves and stone... is he trying to say that they refer to stone as the trait all dwarves share in common? "I think so, but could you explain a bit further...?"
Describing dwarves as stony was indeed appropriate, even by their standards. I supposed it should've hardly surprised me. "Common dwarven traits, yes... but is there more?"
He continued, "Yes... I speak both metaphorically and literally... we are dwarves, and there is much about us that is like the stone. We feel no more at home than when it surrounds us, and it carries to us the roar of the great molten flows, or the slow whine of subterannean ocean-rivers, or, when all is quiet, mountain-whispers so steeped in age that even the stars were young when they were first spoken.
"And so... to understand this is to understand a part of what makes us dwarves... these loves are immovable and unchangeable, and so we are like the Stone."
I nodded, following along with his explanation easily, "I see. But what of the Shape?"
I see... where Stone refers to the commonalities between dwarves, Shape refers to the differences. "Elaborate a little further, please..."
He thought about it hard, once again struggling with his words, "How can I make this more clear for you? A stone yields what is already within, and so we, as Dwarves, look within and see what it is we are to become."
"So it is the Shape that defines what the Stone becomes?" I was genuinely interested in what Randver was taking the time to explain to me, and I felt I was grasping the concepts quite naturally.
"This is the most important concept. One cannot exist without the other. To a certain degree, Shape does define what the Stone becomes... flint makes a good striking stick... but the reverse is just as true... you can't make a good striking stick without flint. Shape arises from Stone, but Stone is dependent upon Shape...
"It is perhaps stated most simply in this way. As slate will flake and crack under the sculptor's chisel, so will a dwarf who knows not his purpose, knows not his Shape."
I was starting to see some of the difficulty that Randver had putting it into words. Certainly, while similar, the concepts he was illustrating were quite different from human ones. "So... Stone and Shape define your morality?"
I felt confident that I had a good handle on the concepts and then sought to apply them to the situation at hand. Hmph. What am I trying to do, anyhow? I'm just a thief, I know nothing of morality. "So, Stone and Shape, in terms of your father..."
Randver suddenly looked very sad, and I couldn't entirely blame him. He had to feel sorry for his father, understand what his father was feeling. If he hadn't he never would've bothered explaining everything to me. "My father left us because he had betrayed both his Stone and his Shape. He felt that allowing the elves to banish his brethren was a betrayal of his Stone. The same act was also a betrayal of his Shape, being King of the Dwarves. Without either, he was empty."
Thinking back to the Clan Wars I remembered a villain that Randver had mentioned and I felt it pertinent to the current discussion. "And what of Lorek the Abjurer?"
I was finally starting to truly understand. "Lorek's Stone was flawed... his Shape could be no different..."
Randver smiled at me, obviously pleased that I understood. "Well spoken, my friend. You've wisdom beyond your years."
I smiled back, proud of myself for having understood everything so quickly. "And your opinion of your father's choice?"
He frowned and looked away, still speaking, "There are times, my friend, when the choices we are forced to make cannot be true to both the Shape and the Stone. I have thought long and hard on the issue... I have not the answers. But I know my father is a dwarf among dwarves. There is a saying among us... 'Weigh your own Stone'. It is not for me to decide."
I reached out and shook Randver's hand, and he gladly shook mine in return. "Thank you, Randver. I feel I better understand your father."
"Can we continue our previous discussion?" I think I'm just about ready to pay Loghaire a visit.
Randver nodded, "Certainly... where were we?"
I glanced at him with a knowing look, "Surely YOU must have some idea as to your father's whereabouts?"
Perhaps to the casual observer he seemed calm and unaffected, but I could tell he was a bit nervous. I could see beads of sweat forming on his brow and his voice was just the slightest bit uneven. "Why would you think that? If a dwarf wants to be alone, then a dwarf stays alone..."
"Randver," I admonished him, "You're his son and his heir. You'd have gone looking for him for sure."
He was starting to lose his composure beneath my questioning. I wonder if I was always this good at reading people. No, there's nothing to wonder about... if Frederick and Nathaniel taught me anything it's that I was a damned fool when it came to such things. "Your anger is hollow. You need not protect him from me."
Randver sighed and smirked at me sheepishly. "You see more than most, my friend. You're correct... I hold no animosity towards my father. My heart breaks every day that he is gone..."
I pressed onward, "I seek the truth, Randver. I think your father would want that as well. Do you not think he would wish to hear of the treachery wrought by the elves?"
He slowly nodded, "I believe you stranger, I truly do. I just might be able to point you in the right direction. I must admit it... you're correct in more ways than you know. I do see my father, almost every day, although he says very little. He lives deep within the Dredge, but I have a hidden passage through which I travel and, within it, you will encounter no trouble. Just enter here... there's a secret passage under the throne. I trust you, stranger. Find your answers. Do what is right. I pray he will tell you what you need to know."
I patted Randver on the shoulder gently. "I'll most certainly try. Thank you for your help, Randver."
I slipped into the passageway that he pointed out to me and I saw the dim flicker of a lit fire in the distance. Quickly, while still under the cover of darkness, I slipped my dress back on and hastily tossed my armor into my purse. I wandered near the fire and at last I came upon him exactly as Randver had told me. A proud and old dwarf, buck naked, carrying nothing but an axe.
I bent one knee to the ground respectfully and spoke to him with my head down, "Forgive me, your highness. I had no choice but to-"
He interrupted me with a great shout that rang throughout the room and in my ears. "Quiet! This insolence is unforgivable! The violation of my ancient right for solitude in exile is not broken so easily! Your life hangs in the balance, stranger! Speak quickly, let you taste of the fury of Harrow." He lifted his axe up at me menacingly and started to step forward.
I stood up and held my arm out to stop Virgil from charging. "Wait a moment! I come here with the blessing of your son!"
"Stop already!" I pleaded. I know what'll shut you up. "I come with news of the Black Mountain Clan!"
The axe lowered slightly in his hands and an expression of shock came over his face. "What? How do you know...? Speak quickly. Your life still hangs in the balance..."
Will you PLEASE stop threatening me? "Loghaire, I've been to the Isle of Despair in search of them. They aren't there. I don't know where they are, but I spoke with Stennar Rock Cutter just as he died. He spoke of evil and some sort of device... he said he escaped, but I'm not sure from where."
Loghaire was silent and finally his axe dropped to the ground. "I've no words, no words. My crime, it seems, is even more heinous than I thought. I deserve much worse than this mere isolation..."
"Loghaire," I insisted, "Please, I need to know exactly what happened." Moping about isn't going to make it right any more than running away absolved me of my own sins...
I was practically about to get on my hands and knees to beg him. He was so obsessed with himself and his betrayal that he was blind to what was in front of him. "Please... these elves who approached you... who were they?"
He sighed and finally looked at me, willing to speak at last. "A delegation of elves, sent from the Silver Lady herself. They came not long after Bates had built his first steam engine. Technology in the hands of the humans had spread and advanced at an alarming rate... and the elves were hit first, and hardest.
"Their forests... their forests were being cleared with the help of technology - massive steam-powered clear-cutters. The oldest groves, towering and untouched for thousands of years, were being destroyed without prejudice. I saw much of this with my own eyes... the ancient forest of Morbihan is little more than a graveyard now."
Wait... Morbihan? But the elves live in the Glimmering Forest. "Were there elves living in the forests of Morbihan?"
Something didn't seem quite right about the tale he was relating, but I didn't feel that dwelling on the forest any longer would be productive. It was certainly possible that the elves were greatly upset by the clear-cutters, even if it seemed strange. "Why did technology spread so fast among the humans?" I was legitimately curious on that point, being interested in technology myself.
He glared at me partially with disgust and partially with a strange curiosity of his own. "There are many reasons. Humans, in comparison with the other races, live such short lives. Because of this, I believe that every human action is motivated through fear... the fear of death. You would think that this was a relative issue... that humans would learn to live with this limitation and accept it. This is not true...
"And, therefore, humans, when confronted with any situation, see it through the veil of their own mortality. Achieve, advance, perform... humans are constantly driven by the shadow of their own death. This fear, unfortunately, clouds their judgment, deadens their sense of right and wrong. Humans act first, think later, and feel last of all...
So you're trying to say that I'm a devil because I'm afraid of death? That is, unfortunately for me, likely to be true. I wasn't particularly comfortable with the topic, so I changed it again. "You mentioned the Silver Lady... who is she?" I knew the answer, of course, but I couldn't think of a better way to change the topic.
The tone in which Loghaire spoke was actually one of respect and reverence. Even despite his troublesome history with the elves he still held the Lady in high esteem. "The Silver Lady is mother-Queen to the elves. She is very old... much older than I, and very powerful in the ways of magick."
His attitude, more than anything, actually made me wonder just how certain he was of his own past. "And you say it was she that was angered by what had happened to the forests?"
He looked at me again, thinking about it anew as he explained it to me. "The delegation told me that she was extremely hurt and angry about the damage that had been done... according to them, because of her age and power, she was hurt the most by the clearing... her connection to the forests was strongest of all."
"...but you never actually spoke to her directly." I clarified.
"Where does she live?" It was somewhat of a stupid question considering she probably lived in the city of elves, but I supposed it would be wise to make sure. It was a good habit to not assume anything was true, no matter how obvious it seemed.
"In Qintarra... the oldest city of the elves, somewhere within the Glimmering Forest." I was thankful that Loghaire seemed so willing to talk, even when I blurted out stupid questions.
I didn't know quite where I was going with the conversation, but I felt that I was chasing a valid point. I just didn't yet know exactly what. "You mentioned there are major differences between the races of dwarves and elves. Would you mind elaborating on those for me?"
I finally figured it out, I only had left to make him realize the conclusion that I'd arrived at. "And the elven delegation? What did they demand of you?"
Loghaire put his head in his hands, feeling further shame at the memories I asked him to recall. "They said that if the Black Mountain Clan was not punished, there would be war. War! I told them that a punishment was already being decided upon and that we, as dwarves, would deal with them. They refused... they claimed rights as the afflicted, and therefore as the judges. They agreed that exile was a suitable punishment... but they wanted to be the vessel of that retribution."
Not very elf-like, were they? "Are the elves a warlike people? Is it in their nature?"
He shook his head, slowly beginning to realize what I was driving at. "No... I know that there was a time of violence, many years ago, among the elves... but from what I know of them, they are a very rational, peace-loving people. They know that, ultimately, war benefits no one. I was very surprised when they came and threatened it."
Think about it, Loghaire! "Don't you find that odd? There seem to be some inconsistencies here."
Loghaire didn't strike me as the kind of dwarf who would make such a decision lightly. He had to have his reasons, and those would be the very same reasons he had exiled himself to the Dredge. "What was it you feared, Loghaire? Why agree to the terms?"
He stared at the ground shamefully, obviously disgusted with his own actions. "I am very old, stranger. You may know nothing of me, but believe me when I tell you that I've seen enough dwarven blood spilled to fill a thousand lifetimes. Have you any idea what it would mean for there to be a war between the elves and the dwarves? Arcanum itself would not survive the conflict! And I was so very tired of filling tombs with the bodies of my people..."
I'm not sure that warrants exile, Loghaire. "But-"
"But nothing!" he shouted, interrupting me. "I chose to spare the dwarves... the world!... the price of such a war. What was one clan's honor in comparison with the sheer cataclysm that would result otherwise? You ask what right they had? None. They merely forced a choice... and I chose the path of least resistance, the least pain. That was my betrayal, stranger."
I shook my head in disagreement, "What do you mean?! You were merely acting out of concern!"
Loghaire was being needlessly stubborn, refusing to see things any differently. After the length of time he'd been exiled I was likely very naive to think I could convince him otherwise. "Being a King isn't always easy..."
Loghaire's voice boomed throughout the tiny room, deep and confident. Even coming from a dwarf in such a sad state as he, in a dirty, uneven, and poorly lit cavern... still it commanded respect. The blood of Kings truly flowed throughout his veins. "Even as King, the choice is NEVER mine as to whether even ONE dwarf is stripped of his honor. I should have brought this to the people, or just flatly refused from the beginning! I was a coward, a failure... and this exile is my punishment. Given the choice now, I would have waged war against ALL of Arcanum to uphold the honor of that foolish little clan..."
I stood across from him and stared him in the eyes, utterly convinced of what I was about to say. "I know, I know. That's because your Stone is still true..."
He seemed shocked once again, almost as shocked as he had been when I first told him of the Black Mountain Clan. "What? What do you know of the nature of dwarven Stone? You, an outsider? How could you possibly know of such things?"
I insisted, "Randver put his faith in me... perhaps you could as well." Not all humans are as dumb and impatient as you think we are... just most of them.
"Perhaps..." he started to admit, but then suddenly remembered that I was, in fact, a human. "But you are not even a dwarf! These are beliefs and concepts it takes a lifetime to reconcile. How could you possibly begin to understand how I feel?"
Arrogance is not becoming of a King. The very fact that I haven't been contemplating this for my entire life gives me a unique perspective. "I know that it is difficult to live by both Stone and Shape."
Of course. They were in conflict, there was no easy decision, but even still you only betrayed one... "But, isn't part of life defining that Shape? Learning from mistakes?"
He looked at me oddly, as if he couldn't quite believe I was saying the things he was hearing. "Yes. Your words sound true, stranger. I know that no man is flawless. BUT, I also know that each man's load to bear is different. A larger load carries more responsibility. Mine is heaviest of all... therefore the price for my betrayal must be the most costly..."
It still seemed to me like he was was making a grievous error somewhere in his thoughts, and I intended to find out exactly what it was. "What is the nature of that betrayal?"
He paused, suddenly unsure of himself. He continued shakily, not understanding my meaning. "The nature of the betrayal? I've failed my people... isn't that what is most important here? The betrayal was against their Stone... it seems, sadly, that my own Stone is flawed..."
That's not it at all... "No... that was Lorek's flaw. You may have betrayed the Black Mountain Clan, but you did so out of concern and love... you wanted to protect as many dwarves as you could, and that's proof that your Stone is still true. Yours is a conflict of Shape... you failed in your duty as a King to uphold the honor of that clan."
No, no, no. I have a journey I must continue on. I am NOT the King of the dwarves. "No. YOU must pay the price. I cannot do this for you."
He seemed confused, and at last he desperately looked to me for an answer, believing in me to guide him onto the correct path. His wordless question hung heavily in the air. It was a strange and powerful feeling to have such an incredible dwarf hanging on my every word, and I was careful not to abuse it. "You must return to your people. Be true to Stone AND Shape."
It doesn't make up for the evils I've committed in my lifetime, but... may the gods go easy on me when my own soul is weighed. "I'm so very glad I could help, Loghaire. Before you return, would you mind giving me some information?"
He smiled at me genuinely, and I realized it was the first time during our entire conversation that I'd seen him actually happy. "Of course... I'll do anything within my power to help you."
I returned his sentiment, pleased that I could be of assistance. "These elves who came to you... could you please tell me how I can find them?"
He thought about it a long time, finally responding, "As I said, they were supposedly sent from the Silver Lady. I know very little of them. But I do have a name... perhaps that will be enough for you to uncover this mystery. The delegation was sent by someone named M'in Gorad, and I had many correspondences with this elf. Here is a letter that was sent to me by him." Loghaire picked up a dirty old letter from the cavern floor and handed it off to me. I stuffed it in my purse to look at in a bit.
At last, a clue on where to go next. If this is the elf responsible for the Black Mountain Clan's banishment than surely he will know where I can find them. "Where can I find this M'in Gorad?"
My travels have taken me everywhere so far, I don't suppose I'll complain if they take me to the home of the elves next. "And where is Qintarra? The Glimmering Forest is awfully large."
He frowned, "I don't know, unfortunately. The location of Qintarra is a well-guarded secret. But I do know it lies within the Glimmering Forest. The small town of Stillwater lies near the edge of that forest. Perhaps there you might find someone who knows where it is... here, I'll mark your map with Stillwater's location." I held out my map to him and he placed a dot towards the North end of the Stonewall Mountains.
Stillwater... I suppose it's time at last for us to meet, Joachim. "Thank you, Loghaire. I will do my best to find out the truth." I turned to leave, finally having a direction to head in that might yield some answers.
I didn't particularly want to take such an important artifact from Loghaire, but I also felt it would be rude to refuse. "Thank you. I will put it to good use."
He smiled again, "I'm sure you will. Godspeed on your quest, my friend. And... if you do find out what happened to the Black Mountain Clan, return to me. I would be VERY interested in finding out what really happened to them. VERY interested..."
I nodded, "I'll do that. Goodbye, Loghaire."
"Goodbye, friend." He shook my hand firmly and proudly, and then walked off to the passageway I entered from. I was sure Randver would be quite pleasantly surprised to see him. Curious, I took the note he'd handed me out of my purse and read it in the light of the fire.
Something tells me that my answers aren't going to be found quite so easily. This M'in Gorad is not like any elf I've ever heard of. Elves do not make threats like this..."
Bonus ContentI recommend having a 10 (or higher) int by the time you get to this section of the game. When you ask Randver about the Stone and Shape and he balks, then you suggest you're smart enough to understand, he says this:
If you don't hear about the Stone and Shape from him, you can't convince Loghaire to return to his people. You either have to kill him or he gives you the letter and tells you to get the fuck out so he can go back to
Requested by Spike McMayhem
"I wanna know stuff. About you. Virgoo."