Kahdzbar’s Journal, Part 2

So, I guess I should be dating this, seeing as it’s kind of a historical record and all. But, uh, I didn’t remember to check a calendar when we were in civilization, and command was pretty eager to get the expedition underway so they didn’t actually set down a solid departure date. I’ll just say “one week after leaving” and make Easy figure out the math later.

So, yeah, we arrived okay. Oh, there’s a few little things—we’ve mostly been eating Fishy’s fish on the trip here, so we’re getting a little sick of that, but once we get the farm up and running it won’t be a problem anymore. And the wagon’s not too comfortable, but once the beds are constructed that’s not much of a problem.

Already, the fortress begins to take shape in my mind. I can already smell the baking dwarf bread, hear the songs of the miners, taste the delicious, non-fishy homegrown mushroom pie…the air here practically buzzes with destiny.

I let the team idle on the wagon while I scout out the area. In hindsight, it might have been smarter to move the wagon a tiny bit closer to the mountainside…the location I’d picked for the fortress is just about a hundred yards away. I make a few sketches for the projected layout, then call back to the wagon, “All excavators, front and center!”

I wait.

Fishy’s down by the lake, casting a line contentedly. Smiley appears to be speaking to Easy and Twitch, although I don’t think either of them were really paying attention. Easy was toying with a pencil, and Twitch was staring contemplatively at a bottle of some kind. She-Wolf was grinding her axe over the mini-anvil.

Eventually, Sparky wandered over to me. He looked bleary-eyed and a little bloodshot, and his breath smelled strange. Probably come down with some sort of illness, poor fellow. Anyway, I ask him if he’s on the excavation crew.

He gives me a funny look, then asks if there’s anyone else on the excavation crew. My clipboard forces me to concede that there doesn’t appear to be. I give him his instructions anyway—dig in a small tunnel, then balloon into a larger one, then have a small room on either side.

He grunts, then asks, “That’s it? Couple bulls— little rooms? Didn’t you want a f—ing farm in there somewhere, or something? I know there was some farm or another you wouldn’t shut the h— up about.” I have a little laugh (to show that I know he’s just kidding around) and explain that I don’t really have a good idea of what the fortress will look like. I told him that as I decided on exact dimensions, I’d simply have him modify the tunnels to be larger or smaller. He fell silent, so I suppose he understood.

As I walked away to tend to other matters, I saw him pull out some chalk and draw a little dwarf figure on the cliff wall, which he brought the pick into on his first hard swing. Some sort of obscure mining tradition, I suppose.

I relaxed with the rest of my crew, discussing with them my planned layout. I show them the designs for the storage room, the entry hall, the bedroom…essentially, I said, Sparky would have a functional home furnished for us within the week. They seemed cheered by this. Nothing to do, I added, but kick back, drink ale, eat fish, and begin a comprehensive deforestation and foraging project covering all plant life within a hundred-yard radius. They laughed a bit, then stopped, then rose and went silently to work. I exhaled, taking another sip of ale. It already felt like home.

Sparky made impressive progress that day. I went in to inspect his work—much of the peat had been removed as only a dwarf can manage, with each room being roomy enough for a giant and strong enough for another, clumsier giant. The only issue was that there was quite a bit of loose stone strewn about around the place—I asked Sparky why this was the case, and he replied, “You sort it out. I’m getting dinner.” (note to self—antonym of delegation? Investigate) In the end, I elected to have some of the stone placed in the empty room to the west.

We had a modest dinner of roasted fish and traded stories of how our days had gone. Smiley had organized our livestock alphabetically. She-Wolf had, by her count, killed no less than 24 insects. Easy and Twitch had taken care of most of the local brush. Fishy spent almost every waking moment of the day fishing. Trying to bring my crew’s spirit up, I joked, “Well, at least we don’t have to worry about starving—we’ve got enough fish here to last us three meals a day for half a lifetime!” I’m not entirely sure this worked, so I followed it up with a promise that we’d have a farm put up tomorrow and perhaps the fish scenario would prove unnecessary. This went over a little better, but I couldn’t help but notice that they glanced uneasily amongst themselves afterwards.

Late the next day, after Sparky finished off my proposed expansions, we settled in to plant the indoor farm. We laid out a large plot inside the main farm room, worrying and loosening the soil with sticks and (after some persuading) She-Wolf’s battle axe. Some rotted fish and animal feces were put together as a makeshift compost pile nearby, and we made sure the soil was well broken. We spent almost an hour preparing the site for planting.

Afterwards, we all returned to the wagon, eating a fish fillet and glancing occasionally towards the unfinished fortress entrance. It took me a few minutes to realize that I was waiting for something, and a few more to realize what I was waiting for.

“Well,” I said, trying to sound cheerful, “won’t be having too many of these in the future, then. Not once the farm’s up.”

There was a general, subdued cheer.

“Yes. Just need to get it planted, then we can really get to work.

I took a bite, chewed for a minute, and glanced around. Nobody moved.

“So,” I said, “when do you think you can get it up?”

The amassed crew sat there for a moment. When there was silence, they glanced towards one another, seeming confused.

“You. You know,” I say, “the farmer. The one I hired.”

Smiley gave a slow, wide, arched-eyebrowed smile.

“Uh, excuse me, sir? I don’t know that you hired anyone with that job description.”

There was a long moment of silence.

Twitch started to cry.