Baruk woke up in the evening. His hands were still trembling from the tension of the battle and all of his dreams had included gnolls. But Baruk had fought before, if only against a small band of orcs and with five companions, and he was certain he would run into more battle soon enough. "Stop shaking like an elf!" he told himself angrily and fixed a light breakfast, punishing himself by not eating any greenstools.

He then examined the copper ring he had gotten from the dead gnoll and found that, in sunlight, it looked quite pretty. It had intricate carvings on it and the style and nature of these suggested a human origin. Probably a ring of someone from Bak, Baruk thought. Maybe he could sell it back, cashing extra for the emotional value. He tried to put the ring onto one his fingers, but discovered that human rings were far too small for the meaty fingers of dwarves. And so he put it in his backpack, doused the campfire and marched on.

Night was fast approaching when Baruk suddenly heard a faint whimper from close to the road. He grabbed his axe and moved slowly towards the sound to investigate. Pushing away the tall grass, Baruk let out a small cry of surprise at the sight. A dwarven lad, covered with bloody rags, lay on the ground, clutching his side and moaning softly. Upon seeing Baruk, his face, framed by shaggy black hair and a couple of inches of dirty beard, lit up. "Oh, a brother! Help me here, friend!" he pleaded and Baruk put his axe back into the holder. He helped the other dwarf sit up and attempted to touch his side. The dwarf stopped his hand with an apologetic expression. "Uh… please don't touch me there, it hurts too much!" he explained and Baruk withdrew his hand. "What's your name, friend?" Baruk asked. "I have never seen you in High Helm." The other dwarf nodded. "I am Farkaz." Baruk waited expectantly. Farkaz blinked. "What is it?" he asked warily. Baruk frowned. "What about your fathers and father's fathers?" Farkaz swallowed. "Oh. My father is Gundar and his father was Bandarr." He gave a weak smile. "We did not have any other names." Baruk nodded slowly. "You are Clanless?" he asked incredulously. He had heard of dwarves who left the sanctuary of mountain homes to live in the shoddy human cities and dropped their clan names to show their distance from the true dwarves. The Clanless attempted to behave and look like humans and were despised and avoided by true dwarves. "Clanless?" Farkaz's brow was furrowed with confusion, but then his face cleared. "Oh, you mean that. Uh… yes, I guess you might call me that." Baruk sighed. "Well, I'm not going to let you die here, whoever you are. Come!" Farkaz got up and followed Baruk.

They had walked for only a few miles when it was obvious that Farkaz was dog-tired. Baruk turned to him, annoyed by the dwarf's weakness and said curtly: "Farkaz, I can see that you no longer have any true dwarven blood in you or you wouldn't be panting from exhaustion. We shall rest, but only if you tell me your story." Farkaz nodded and slumped to the ground. "What's your name, friend?" he asked weakly and Baruk looked at him sharply. "We, the dwarves," he said, emphasising the word "we", "always tell our full names to whoever we meet, except our mortal enemies and the Clanless. Call me Baruk." Farkaz swallowed and smiled. "I see." Baruk shook his head with disgust. The other dwarf reminded him too much of gully dwarves, the groveling, pathetic garbage dwellers who made their filthy lairs where even the orcs did not. "Tell me your story, Farkaz!" he said curtly and examined the other's face.

Farkaz took a deep breath and looked away. "Well, Baruk, I was traveling down the road to get to High Helm to trade," he started in a shaky voice and looked at Baruk from time to time to see his reaction. "I… trade in clothes, I get them from Bak. And so I was walking down the road when suddenly these big gnolls jump out of the grass and start to beat me." Baruk watched him silently for a few moments. "Didn't you carry a weapon? Didn't you fight back?" he asked, contempt in his voice. Farkaz shook his head. "I had a…. dagger, but it got stuck in the chest of one of the gnolls. And so they beat me up and took my things and then you found me." Baruk lowered his gaze and fell into deep thought. The Clanless dwarf's story made sense, only Baruk could not understand how a dwarf could degenerate into such a sniveling wretch. But that must be the way of things outside mountains, he thought and turned his gaze back to Farkaz. It seemed that the other one wanted to say something else. "Yes?" Baruk asked coldly. "I had quite a lot of things, Baruk. They took everything. But I could see where they went - towards South Wood. I know gnolls live there." Baruk sneered. "And you want me to go there to get your things back?" Farkaz nodded eagerly. Baruk's sneer faded when he thought about the idea. Actually, he had nothing against a little adventure and as much as he hated Farkaz for his weakness, the dwarven codex still demanded that a fellow dwarf be helped by his kind. "Very well," Baruk said and rose. "Let's go then." He turned off the road and started marching south, Farkaz scuttling behind him.

A mile later Baruk decided to set up the camp, because it was dark and he needed to rest, not to mention Farkaz. He shared his food with the other dwarf and noted with concern that his supplies were diminishing fast. A trip to the forest would yield game, of course, but there was still a long way to go.

It was time to sleep and Baruk took the first watch. He did not trust Farkaz completely, because the other dwarf had changed so much. Baruk even hesitated to call him dwarf, although he felt that he was doing the poor lad injustice. He watched Farkaz sleep and noticed that the dwarf's breathing was irregular as if he was having a bad dream. Or faking sleep. Baruk slid his axe slowly out of the holder to see Farkaz's reaction. The breathing of the other dwarf stopped completely and, although Farkaz's eyes were closed, Baruk was certain he was being watched. Baruk was now convinced the other dwarf was hiding something from him and decided to settle the matters once and for all. He reached out to wake Farkaz, but before he could even touch him, the other dwarf was on his feet. Baruk became really concerned when he saw the expression of Farkaz's face - it was a grin of glee mixed with rage. "Who are you?" Baruk asked and gripped his axe. Farkaz laughed, a hissing sound, and suddenly his face and body changed. The dwarf grew taller and thinner, his beard and hair disappeared and his skin turned gray. The eyes that were previously normal, were now full grey without irises. Instead of a dwarf stood a creature not unlike a human with grey skin. Baruk gasped. "A shapechanger!" he cried and backed away from the monster. Farkaz hissed: "And you are a meal, little dwarf!" and jumped at Baruk, swinging his hands which had now got wicked claws.

Baruk dodged the first blow, but was not prepared for the second and cried with pain when the claws dug into his side. The shapechanger ripped a piece of flesh out of him and the world was tinted red before Baruk's eyes. His head swam with pain and he had to grit his teeth really hard to stay conscious. The monster swung his arms again, but Baruk blocked the first blow with his axe and ducked to avoid the second. He then slashed out with his axe and nicked the creature's stomach. A furious hiss and a few drops of blood was all he got. The monster swung again and caught Baruk with both blows. More flesh was ripped out of the dwarf's body and he gasped with pain. He felt as if his whole body was on fire and everything seemed to swirl around him. Suddenly he found himself lying on the ground and the monster stood over him, ready to rip his head off. With a final effort, Baruk managed a weak blow that scratched the creature's left leg and the shapechanger hissed with pain. Then Baruk felt his the last bit of strength ooze out of him and he let his muscles loose. The monster grinned with joy and raised its arm to deliver the killing blow. It never knew an arrow pierced its head. Baruk stared with amazement at the dead shapechanger on top of him, face still in a rictus of glee. He then struggled out from under the corpse, although every movement sent pangs of pain through him and caused him to moan. A hiss from where the corpse was, startled him, but he was relieved to see that the hissing came from the rapid decay of the shapechanger. In a few seconds, only black smoke lingered where the corpse once lay and that too was dissipating fast.

Baruk looked around to see his saviour and heard someone approaching. He kept gripping his axe, just in case, and waited patiently. Finally three figures stepped into the sparse light that the campfire offered and Baruk had to supress a gasp of surprise. The one with the bow - the slayer of the shapechanger - was an elf. Why an elf would save him, was beyond Baruk, although judging by the expression on the elf's face it was obvious that he had not known the shapechanger was attacking a dwarf. The elf turned to his two companions, two humans, and said dryly: "Well, friends, we have saved a dwarf from being eaten. A truly glorious night indeed." The humans looked at each other and shook their heads in frustration. Baruk had measured all of the three strangers during this brief moment and reached conclusions. The elf was definitely not a warrior, dressed in a flowing robe of dark green and wearing a silver headband with a deep green jewel - emerald, recognized Baruk - that seemed to slightly pulsate with green light. His pale, thin face was probably considered to be beautiful by elven standards, but to Baruk he seemed starved. The elf's slanted green eyes regarded the dwarf coolly and by the way he held his brilliantly crafted longbow, Baruk was sure he was ready to let loose another arrow before the dwarf could raise his axe. The two humans were much more to Baruk's liking. The taller one had flaming red hair, falling down over his shoulders and his beard was even longer than Baruk's. Only it pained the dwarf to see how little the human cared for his beard, for it was dirty and had not seen oil in weeks, if ever. The red-haired human was naked, except for a worn-out dress-like piece of cloth and leather shoulder guards. His well-trained body and quarterstaff made his profession clear. The other human had long, dark brown hair, but no beard. He was not as muscular as the red-haired human, but obviously much more nimble and light-footed. He wore a strange mixture of plate mail and leather armor, with a breastplate being the most important piece, and his head was protected by a helmet with horns. A well-crafted longsword hung from his swordbelt and a peculiar dagger was strapped to his right boot. "Two human warriors and an elven mage. This is not a sight I'll see every day, I bet," Baruk said. The elf bowed very slightly and answered: "Then rejoice, little fellow. I am Jalanthar Rana'ar, "The Wanderer" in human tongue, I believe. I must say I am impressed by the fact that you speak something else apart from that dreadful dwarven dialect." Before Baruk could reply, the red-haired human cried: "Haha! Pleased to meet you, honorable dwarf! Surely you have heard of me, the mighty Unqar?" "And me, Galahd?" added the other man. Baruk shook his head. "Forgive me, but I haven't heard of you. This is my first time out of High Helm, the glorious home of dwarves", here he shot a venomous glance at Jalanthar who sniffed with disdain, "and I do not know much of the wide world. I am Baruk Azul, son of Dalur Azul, a blacksmith on his way to Bak. I am at your service." The humans bowed deeply, but Jalanthar merely smiled. "Well?" he said. "Well what?" Baruk asked, confused by the question. "What about the rest of your family tree?" asked the elf, failing to hide his amusement. Baruk felt blood boiling in his veins, but forced himself to be calm. After all, he owed his life to the elf, no matter how insulting or low his comments were. "We, dwarves, only tell our full family tree to friends. Even other dwarves only get the names of my father, grandfather and great grandfather," he replied curtly. Jalanthar's smile widened. "Easy now, little Baruk, son of Dalur. I was just picking on you. I am actually quite a nice person, you see, and I have no intention of spending the wee hours of the night bickering." He kneeled down next to Baruk and started to tend his wounds. The dwarf could only stare in disbelief at the elf, who seemed immersed in his work. He applied some sort of salve to the wounds, bandaged them and then soaked the bandages with a liquid that smelled of herbs. "There," he finally said with satisfaction and sat down next to Baruk, taking out his delicate-looking pipe. The two humans at last dared to sit down and started to warm their hands. It seemed the elf was the leader of the party, for the humans kept glancing at him as if looking for approval. Jalanthar, however, seemed to ignore everything but his sweet-smelling pipe.

"Heading for Bak, eh?" he suddenly said, without even looking at Baruk. The dwarf, whose mood had improved considerably thanks to the expert treatment he had received, nodded. "Aye, I'm to meet and apprentice under my uncle there. And then I'll return to High Helm to work as a blacksmith for the rest of my life." Jalanthar snorted. "That sounds like an interesting life indeed." Baruk frowned. "It is interesting," he said stubbornly. "You will never understand the intricacies of iron or the fascinating moments when you hold in your hands the object you've been forging for the last decade." Jalanthar turned to him and watched him solemnly. "How do you know that?" he asked quietly. "Well, you elves don't know anything about what we do," explained Baruk. Jalanthar smiled. "Now you are mistaken. I have been to High Helm, if only for a brief visit and I have participated in the crafting of a weapon. An axe it was, I believe, and my assistance was necessary to make it… special. And I can tell you, it was tedious work indeed." Baruk laughed. "Oh, really? Well, you may know what iron is or what should be done with it, but I doubt you have ever forged anything!" Jalanthar sighed. "My dear Baruk, there is a difference between knowing and actually using that knowledge. I, for example, know how to change the South Wood into a meadow. Even if I will not do it, few can argue that I am not capable of doing that." Galahd, the quiet human, raised his hand. "Stop it, you two!" Baruk and Jalanthar closed their mouths and looked at Galahd who seemed undaunted. "You have bickered since the beginning of time and you'll continue until the Sword of Eternal Fire is jammed between your jaws. Could you at least make a brief pause for a few weeks so that our ears can enjoy the silence?" Before Baruk could retort, Jalanthar burst into laughter. "You are far too correct, my sword-bearing friend! I have always said you must turn to humans if you want practical advice!" he giggled and Galahd smiled. A moment later, the burly Unqar, who seemed a little slow-witted, started to laugh and Baruk couldn't keep himself from laughing at the big oaf. Soon the camp rang with laughter and Baruk felt the barriers and tension dropping.

The rest of the night passed on a high note, literally. Jalanthar took out a beautiful flute from his backpack and started playing a happy trill which made Baruk long for a stout drum. Then Galahd sang, with a surprisingly hypnotic voice and Baruk soon joined in with his deep bass. If anyone passed by the camp, they might have thought a group of reckless fops were throwing a party. When the sun rose, Unqar, Galahd and Baruk went to sleep and Jalanthar kept watch, a faraway look in his eyes. Baruk asked: "When will you go to sleep?", concerned about the elf, but Jalanthar patted him on the shoulder and replied lightly: "Oh, I always sleep with my eyes open. That's the way of elves." He almost forced Baruk to lay down and looked at him for a few moments. "You need rest, Baruk. Your wounds will only heal with rest and care. Tomorrow we will start our trip to Bak and you'll need to be fresh. Sleep now." Baruk did not need further persuasion and fell asleep. Just before he drifted away, however, he wondered briefly about the "we will start our trip" part. Will they really accompany me? he asked himself before travelling to dream lands.

Chapter III | Adventures