IT’S COMING I PROMISE. Not swiftly, bc work/life/everything is a lot rn, but it IS coming! In the meanwhile, have some more sneaky peekiness!

Starring: a friendly, clever nb Dwarven guard, a grim shortarse homesick elf (who might be learning a hell of a lot), and an Orocarni Princess-in-exile with a chip on her shoulder and dreams of freedom in her heart. 

And Plans.

“So, let’s get a plan together,” Jeri said, sitting back
comfortably. They had lit a small fire, and all around them the great red
desert stretched as far as the eye could see. Small scrubby bushes dotted the
parched earth, and giant monoliths of red rock were interspersed with swathes
of fibrous grasses, tough and dry. The night sky reached into infinity above
them, and new constellations could be made out on the Eastern horizon. “What do
we have?”

“The element of surprise,” answered Kara moodily. “And
nothing else.”

Laindawar frowned at her. “That is not true. That is useless
talk.”

“Well, I don’t see what else we have,” she snapped back. “I’ve
lived in the Ghomal my whole life: I know it as you never can. And I tell you,
we are hopelessly overmatched… I have no idea how to begin.”

“We begin by pooling our assets,” Jeri said, as Laindawar
drew himself up to retort. “No, shut up. Really, shut up. All right. Laindawar,
you won’t be able to pass unnoticed in the Orocarni. I have no idea if there
are Elves in the East at all… so you will stand out like a big blond boil on
someone’s nose.”

Laindawar’s lip curled. Kara sniggered.

“So we make use of that. You’re new, you’re unusual, you’re
going to draw attention. Folks will want to know all about you: what you can
do, your people, all of that. You’re a crown prince, too. We can make you a big
shiny Elven distraction while Kara here gets people whispering.”

“Are you suggesting that I should be a figurehead?””
Laindawar asked incredulously. Jeri looked faintly amused.

“Not at all, Highness. You’re trained as a warrior, but you’ve
no doubt had a few millennia of polite and princely niceties shoved down your
throat, yes?”

Laindawar gave a curt nod, lips pressed together.

“Then you know how to lay a word or two in the right ear.
You know how to use a phrase to get people thinking. You know how to grease the
right palm.” Jeri clasped their hands on their stomach and tapped them in
thought. “Kara, who do we really need to get to? The folks most in need of
sanctuary?”

“It depends,” she said, glancing up at Laindawar. “There
will be political dissenters and prisoners:  they will be under intense scrutiny if still
free, and if captured they will be guarded day and night. There are many who
simply live quietly and fearfully. Snitching on your neighbours is not only
encouraged, it is highly praised. There are few places in which to think or
talk freely. The Cult of Sauron is paranoid, and it makes them ever-vigilant.
We will be watched intently.”

“What of your mother?” Jeri asked gently. “Does she not need
to escape?”

Kara clammed up immediately, her eyes blazing.

“Perhaps leave that enquiry for another day, mellon,”
Laindawar murmured.

“And yourself,” Jeri said, adroitly side-stepping the
awkward silence. “You were a political exile, no? Will you be arrested on
sight?”

Kara frowned. “Maybe. Or maybe not. Exile yes, but I am
still Crown Princess, and there will be some who see my return as the
reestablishment of stability and continuity. We will need to gain the ear of
the Treasurer, Korvir. She holds the purse-strings of the kingdom, and thus a
great deal of power and influence. She is no friend to the Cult, but they
cannot oust her while she controls the coin of the realm.”

“A concealment, perhaps?” Laindawar wondered.

“No-one is going to believe you are a Dwarf, no matter how
short you are for Elvenkind,” Kara snorted.

Jeri coughed, and Laindawar growled beneath his breath. “That
wasn’t what was intended,” Jeri said, and laid a calming hand on Laindawar’s
arm. “Easy there, friend. No, I think you were suggesting that we disguise Kara
herself, aye?”

Laindawar gave another short nod. Kara nearly shot to her
feet in outrage.

“I will do no such thing! Lies and deceit are the way of the
enemy! I will return to my halls as myself and with my own name, or not at all!”

“Peace! Peace,” Laindawar said, and he shook his head. His hair
was rusty gold in the firelight. “I did not suggest that you pretend to be
someone you are not. Only that you wear your veils, as Ashkar does, and give no
name until we are sure of the lay of the land. Then we may reveal you.”

“Oh.” She chewed her lip. “I suppose that may work. If you
can dazzle them with your Elven snobbishness, then get them wondering… yes,
then it may be safe enough to come forth, or at least too awkward and public to
attack me without reprisal or question. What about you, though?” she turned to
Jeri, “you’re never going to pass for a Blacklock Dwarf.”

“Nope,” Jeri said cheerfully. “I’m Jeri child of Beri, aide
and guard to the great Prince Laindawar, Elven adventurer and explorer,
etcetera and so forth. If he and I are noisy, showy and flashy and new, then we may conceal you as a guide and
interpreter before we make our big reveal.”

“Great Prince Laindawar,” repeated Laindawar, flatly.

“Etcetera and so forth,” Kara said, eyes dancing.

“I’ve never been this far from home before,” Laindawar said.
“I’ve never even left the Greenwood before this year. My youngest brother had
the wanderlust, not I!”

“Yes, I know, but we have to get folks interested. That way, we can begin our campaign of whispers.” Jeri
squared their shoulders. “All right, so what else have we got? Skills, I’ll
start. I’m a warrior, I favour the axe and the sword, I’ve an excellent head
for planning but a terrible grasp on numbers sadly. I will be of little help
there – they turn inside out when I try. I’m good at spotting a problem, and at
getting out of a tight spot. I can mine and sing, I’m a fair cook, and I can
talk friendly-like to anyone.”

“That last is useful, for I cannot,” Laindawar said. “I am
also a warrior, and have been solitary for much of my life. I cannot make small
chatter. It is not in my nature.”

“So you stand and look impressive and enigmatic, and I’ll do
all the talking,” Jeri laughed. “You should be good at that.”

“Droll,” Laindawar said, dry as the dust all around them. “My
weapons are the sword and bow. I have knowledge of statecraft and history and
healing herbs. I am a woodsman and tracker, and I can settle beasts and birds
of the sky.”

“Is it true that Elves don’t really need to sleep?” Kara
said, leaning in with a sort of fascinated worry.

“We are creatures of flesh, just as you are,” Laindawar
said. “But we need little sleep in comparison to you.”

“Good thing, for we’ll need Elven vigilance where we’re
going,” Jeri said. “Kara?”

She sighed. “I can fight, but not
to any great mastery. I only gained my journeyship in the art of dual swords,
and I was removed from my place before I could finish. I was taught to be a
quiet ornament, when I was taught anything at all.”

“But you have skills and passions,
do you not?” Laindawar prompted her. A strange sympathy was rising in his heart. 

She looked up at him, and her huge dark eyes were imploring.
“Ashkar was the one who cared… my mother, she. But yes. Ashkar taught me to
debate and to speak to the truth in other people. They taught me how to be an
orator. I don’t think they meant to,” she added, laughing a little
self-deprecatingly. “Not at first. But they did anyway. Couldn’t help it. Ashkar
saw all the words trapped inside me and encouraged me to string them together:
to turn them into arguments and reason. Ashkar is a historian, a lecturer, as
well as a politician, but in their heart of hearts, they’re an academic first
and foremost. A teacher. And that was their undoing. All the thinkers have been
silenced, just as I was expected to be silent.”

“Well now!” Jeri said, and nudged her gently. “THAT is a
skill worth having. D’you know how rare it is to find a charismatic leader?
Believe me. We can get the people interested, sure. But you, Kara – you’re the one who is going to capture
their hearts and minds. You’re going to lead them to freedom.”

“All those thinkers,” Laindawar said, “they will have
stopped speaking, certainly, for it is not safe. But they will not have stopped thinking. Yours will be
the first voice, and others will follow.”

She looked rather lost. “I…I… just want them to be safe. I
want us all to be safe, as it once was,
as it used to be when grandmother was alive. I want-”

“Looks like you’re the chosen one, kiddo,” Jeri told her,
and gave her forehead a smacking kiss. “Now sleep, you’re gonna need it. I’ll
start teaching you some more swordplay in the morning, and the prissy twig here
can quiz you some more about being royalty in the Ghomali court, and all that
stuff. We’ve got the bare bones of a plan, so let’s not waste the night with
more talk.”

“I will sing to the stars,” Laindawar announced abruptly, and at Kara’s
imploring face he added, “I will not go far. Whatever we must do, Kara, we will
help them find safety. I promise you.”

She sighed, and lay down at a safe distance from the fire. “I
don’t know if I want to be a Chosen one,” she mumbled as she tugged her blanket
up over her shoulders.

“Just a fancy way of saying, ‘here is a dirty, difficult job
with lots of pain involved, and a faint glimmer of glory at the end of it’,”
Jeri said, yawning. “That’s if you get to
the end of it. In my experience, things don’t really end so much as change. Night,
all. Nice to be co-conspirators with you. Here’s to another day of trudging through
a desert full of bugger-all in the morning.”

Laindawar stood, watching the two Dwarves curl up for a long
moment, motionless and patient as only Elves can be. Kara looked
astonishingly young as her face relaxed into rest, and Jeri seemed oddly
unfinished without their usual glib humour shining in deep brown eyes.

The stars felt very distant as he stepped away, out upon the
endless plains of the North. Perhaps forty leagues back West, the Iron Hills
dreamed their Iron dreams. Even further West lay Erebor, and south of that, his
home. Green and still and ancient, cloaking all in warmth and in the slow soft voices of trees. He could taste the homesickness upon his tongue as clearly as the hardtack and waybread of their evening meal. 

No place had ever seemed as unlike his home as this. Red
and sparse and parched, it was as different from Eryn Lasgalen as day from
night. He missed his home with an ache that he could feel in his teeth. He missed the sounds of his own tongue, the whispers of his beloved trees.

Yet he could not turn away, could not return. Evil still lay
plotting in the world, and Sauron had taken too many homes already. Glancing
back at the small, stout form of Kara, his resolve hardened.

They were much alike, though he could never have understood that only a handful of months ago. Indeed, he would have poured scorn upon the notion. But there it was: they shared an intense love of homeland and people, a fierce protectiveness, a willingness – nay, an eagerness – to fight. Laindawar’s home was free of shadow now. But hers had been stripped from her, all in one cruel blow.

Yes, a strange sympathy indeed. But he could acknowledge it now. 

(Even if she bickered and snapped and grumbled upon every
second word.)

Change is the way of the world. We change, or we are left behind. Jeri had been right. Jeri was often right, he was learning. The cheerful, chatty Dwarf might just be one of the most intelligent people he had ever met.

“A young hopeful Queen, and her tactician,” he murmured. “And
what does that make you, Laindawar of the Greenwood?”

“A deadly weapon in a crown and silly silk robes,” Jeri mumbled.
“Shut up and sleep, Highness. We’ve got a long way to go.”