Rosalind Rimehardt

The endless bump and bounce of travel was already getting on her nerves. Rosalind had spent longer than intended in Nordelle, but it had felt damned near impossible to get back on the road with how long the journey had been. A blasted eighty days! Rosalind grew suspicious that Gavel’s beard had grown into his brain when he claimed he had done it in fifty, but now it was certain. The fool had rocks in his head.

“I’ll just take half as many breaks, then I’ll get there in no time.” she had told herself. What a foolish idea that seemed like now, as yet another rock nearly sent the covered wagon careening into the grass. The only thing keeping her sanity in check was knowing the four month journey would be worth it; Rosalind had managed to convince one of the humans to part with enough mithral to forge a hammer worthy of being a gift to her father. Competition for becoming the royal blacksmith of the family was fierce, and the king had high standards, but this might just be the edge she needed to prove her skills. Rosalind looked back at the beautiful, silvery metal glinting from within a burlap sack, still bewildered at just how light the ingots had been when she picked them up.

“Half a year away from home sure feels like a long time, doesn’t it boys?”

Maybe her sanity wasn’t in check, but Rosalind had grown so accustomed to speaking to her horses as if they could understand her. Angus and Boulder were her only companionship for the two full months it took to reach Nordelle, and they’d likely be the same on the way back. Other travelers were few and far between, not to mention barely trusting anyone on the road enough to spare more than a passing glance, and that was just insurance against a knife in the back. Oh how she dreamed of having a real conversation again! The humans were polite, hells some were even funny, but none of them butted heads quite like a dwarf. The jokes and jeering of a right tipsy dwarf were unmatched, and the literal headbutts were one of the best parts! Humans showed Rosalind this strange sport they called arm-wrestling, but it felt damned near impossible for her to properly compete against their freakishly long arms. Rosalind began picturing what Gavel’s face might look like when she showed him this new game, the way he furrowed his brow whenever something truly frustrated him, how he would begin stammering through his words, and the way he-badumph. A massive thump from another stone in the road brought her attention back to reality.

“Oi! For Rimerock’s sake, you think it’d be someone’s job to clean up the fuc-”

Rosalind cut her exclamation short at the sound of a cracking branch nearby. When did it get so dark? She began rapidly scanning the surroundings, trying to find the source of the disturbance. Did she spook a deer or cross paths with something dangerous? Rosalind clutched her amulet in one hand and the reins in the other, but before she could decide to whip the twins into a gallop, she saw him. A tall and muscular figure. Covered in fur. Bloodthirsty eyes glinting in the darkness. That stupid mohawk they all wore. And bared teeth so white they glowed like the moon. A gnoll.

Rosalind couldn’t help the emotion she felt at the sight of the creature, blocking the road as it began uttering that horrible chuckle, the sound of a hyena’s excitement for a new hunt. It was too late to run, the beast would be upon her before she could get the carriage turned around, and driving the horses straight towards it would be a death sentence. There was no choice left but to fight.

She tried to resist the sensation, but Rosalind felt the smile creep onto her face as she pulled her adamantine hammer from her belt. It had been too long since she’d seen some real excitement.

Stepping down from her place in the carriage, Rosalind patted Boulder’s haunches in what seemed a futile effort to calm him down. The poor creature had always been so skittish, namesake be damned, but oddly enough her words of reassurance seemed to always do the trick. Maybe they did understand her.

“Don’t worry big guy, I’ll make short work of this dunce” she emphasized the insult as she whipped her head back towards the creature.

The gnoll drew its lips back impossibly far in an attempt to make its teeth look bigger as it took a step… back? Maybe it sensed her confidence and was starting to doubt the decision to approach her alone. Smart beast. Smarter than they were known for anyways, normally the blood-thirsty thing would’ve already pounced. Something felt off… Rosalind turned just in time to see the rock being flung straight at her head.

The quick thinking was enough to dodge the brunt of the impact, but the grazing blow was still enough to make her vision swim as her forehead warmed with the sensation of blood. No time to think about where it came from, she heard rapid movement from the gnoll in the road.

Rosalind swung her hammer blindly in an attempt to defend herself from the incoming attack, but she struck air. The gnoll’s rush forwards was a feint, and she had fallen for it. As the weight of the hammer swung her in an uncontrollable arc, the assailant took advantage of its new opening and leaped upon her back, knocking her to the ground. Rosalind could see those massive teeth at the edge of her vision getting closer to her face, the mouth that housed them salivating at the thought of a fresh kill. The creature cackled that horrible, high pitched laugh as it reared back to bite. Rosalind closed her eyes as the end approached, and with a sickening crack the weight lifted from her back.

Rosalind looked up just in time to see Boulder’s hooves landing on the ground just inches from her head, blood spattering his legs. The twins had come to her aid, dragging the wagon just far enough forward to kick the gnoll before it could land the finishing blow.

“Good boys, you’re both getting extra feed tonight for that crazy stunt.”

Confidence renewed, Rosalind turned to see the gnoll flat on its back, dazed with a face covered in blood from the vicious kick. Wasting no time, she leaped upon her opponent’s stomach and with her full weight and brought the hammer down, caving in the chest cavity of her would be killer. She breathed a sigh of relief as its last breath left its lungs, but it wasn’t over yet. Rosalind snapped back into attention to find whoever threw the rock, to put an end to this conflict and move on with her night. She heard movement from behind and tried to turn, but the bone chilling scream almost held her in place.

Rosalind forced herself to turn around as Boulder collapsed. Another gnoll had crept out from its hiding place and ripped the horse’s throat out with its horrible, pointed teeth. Face drenched in gore, the monster turned to her with a disgusting look of satisfaction, as though it killed her friend just to spite her. As though it was getting revenge for her daring to defend herself. The seething rage brought with it a disturbing calmness. Nothing else mattered in this moment besides making this gnoll, this absolute disgrace of a creature, pay for the mistake it just made.

Rosalind dropped into a charge. The gnoll lowered and prepared to defend itself from her blitz. Perfect, the moron fell for the same trick its friend just pulled. Rosalind had only taken two steps, but she had enough momentum to take a shuffling step sideways, shift the movement into her left arm, and throw her hammer at its chest. With its weight already shifting downward, the gnoll was too slow to dodge to the side. In its attempt to duck below the blow, the fool only sealed its fate.

The hammer struck between the creature’s eyes, stunning it long enough for Rosalind to pounce. In the blink of an eye, her calm vanished. She had her hands upon her prey. The savage monster that took her sweet Boulder from her. With her bare hands she struck the creature’s face repeatedly as she cursed it, delivering a blow with each word to emphasize the pain she felt. The pain she needed this abomination to feel.

“Do. You. Know. How. Fucking. Rare. It. Is. For. Horses To. Have. TWINS.”

Rosalind poured all of her fury and despair into that last blow, bringing both hands down as if they were her hammer, and all was still. Her breathing was heavy and labored, tears were already pouring from her eyes. She looked at her hands, covered in blood halfway up her forearms. She looked at the gnoll, what she had done to it in her fury. The face was unrecognizable. The damage she had done with her fists was unbelievable. Rosalind vomited and collapsed to the ground.

It was still dark when she awoke to Angus nuzzling her face. There was no way to tell how much time had passed, an hour? A day? Either way, she had to move. The scent of blood in the air could draw more predators if it hadn’t already. Rosalind tried to push herself to her feet and cried out at the sudden shock of pain that ran through her arms. She looked at her hands but couldn’t figure out how bad the injuries were through the dried blood, nor how much of that blood was hers. From her knees she looked up at Angus, then down to Boulder; the sight brought tears to her eyes. He had saved her life only to be killed in cold blood, and he had collapsed at such an awkward angle because he was still hitched to the cart. Trying to undo the hitching that held him in place proved too difficult through the tears and what Rosalind realized were likely broken bones in her hands. Maybe she should’ve stomped the gnoll’s face instead… too late to think about that now. Though it hurt like the Hells, Rosalind forced herself to pick up her hammer and smash the hitch connecting Boulder’s body to the cart. There was no other way to free the bindings that held him in place. Leaving his body in the middle of the trail felt too disrespectful so Rosalind took a deep breath, steeled herself, and pulled with all her might. Her hands screamed in agony, yet she pulled. Her legs burned and protested against the strain on her muscles, yet she pulled. After what felt like an eternity of effort, Rosalind opened her eyes to find she had moved Boulder about a foot from where she had started.

“I’m sorry buddy,” she choked and sobbed against the tears “I can’t kill myself trying to get you off the road, I have to take Angus home. I’m so sorry.”

Rosalind spoke to Boulder as if he could understand her one last time before wrapping her hands, climbing into the cart, and riding as far away from this spot as she could. She couldn’t bear to look back as she and Angus rode off into the night.

They traveled as far as they could, but the night and the exhaustion persisted. Rosalind found herself falling asleep in her seat multiple times over the next hour or so. Angus did his best, but pulling the cart from off-center was awkward and was obviously wearing on him quickly. She pulled the reins to stop his travel and found a clearing off the path to make camp. Though it was still difficult, Rosalind forced her hands to cooperate long enough to undo Angus’ hitch so he could properly rest.

“What in the nine Hells do we do now Ang? This trip felt long enough already, but now without…”

Her voice trailed off, she couldn’t finish the sentence. Looking into Angus’ eyes, Rosalind wasn’t sure if he looked sad, or she was just projecting her emotions onto him. Amidst the silence, Rosalind’s mind flooded with the memories of raising these two from foals. Twin horses were rare, them surviving past a year old even more so, but Rosalind had committed all of her spare time to making sure these two lived. Feeding and playing with the twins to keep them in shape had formed an unbreakable bond between the three over the course of thirteen years. They had always been smaller than an average horse their age, but Rosalind felt that was her connection to them since she was the runt of her family too. The hardships of being smaller than everyone were endless, one had to work what felt like three times as hard as everyone around them to keep up, and Rosalind’s competitive spirit never let her rest. The twins had matched her energy, never giving up, always moving forward, and pushing for that one last lap around the fields whenever they could fit it in. As she reminisced in remembrance of the time spent with her beloved horses, Rosalind curled up in her bed roll and cried herself to sleep.

Morning came too soon, and with it, an exhaustion that refused to fade. Tired, sore, but most of all hungry, Rosalind forced herself up and began preparing to continue her trek home. After making sure Angus was fed, she hitched him up so that he could pull the cart from a more centered position that wouldn’t be as awkward on a solo horse. Then, she redid her hand wraps with some fresh bandages, got out some food for the road, and resumed the journey.

“I know it hurts Angus, but we have to make it home. We can’t let your brother’s death be in vain. We will get back, we will forge this hammer for Father, and we will make this Gods-forsakened trip worth it by becoming the royal blacksmith.”

The words were mostly for her. She needed to hear someone say them out loud, but she couldn’t say them to herself; pretending to talk to Angus made it easier to pretend she was being strong, despite feeling like she was completely broken. Every hour felt like an eternity of its own as the days dragged on, the path before her felt endless and repetitive, and Rosalind struggled to stay focused on the road. Poor Angus needed frequent breaks from pulling the cart on his own, even after Rosalind dumped everything she deemed unnecessary for the remainder of the trip. The swelling in her hands seemed to keep getting worse over time, making simply holding the reins a difficult task; hopefully she hadn’t damaged them past the point of a healer being able to make a difference. She did her best to keep the wrappings clean and avoid any kind of infection, but her supply was limited and she still had a long way to go. Oadow marked the halfway point between Nordelle and the Rimerock Mountains she hailed from. If she could just reach that small city, she could pay a healer to fix her hands, restock her supplies, and the rest of the journey would be a breeze. Rosalind briefly considered buying another horse, but immediately shunned the idea and tried to change her topic of thought to distract herself from more painful memories.

“Only a few more days and we should be able to see home across the valley.”

Angus’ ears twitched at the suddenly broken silence, he almost seemed irritated. Rosalind pondered what sort of things a horse might be thinking about when they’re lost in their own minds. Do they dream of running free? Do their minds even wander, or are they simply focused on the road ahead? She already knew they had varying personalities, Angus was stubborn and would fight anything smaller than he was for getting too close, but Boulder had always been a kind, gentle soul. Boulder would never have hurt another living creature. Except to protect her, obviously. Boulder was…

Tears suddenly began streaming down Rosalind’s face as her thoughts had wandered right back to the dreadful sight of the gnoll. The horrible, blood soaked smile it had given her as Boulder collapsed dead on the ground. She wished she could go back and do it over again. She would leave the big one on the road, having remembered the exact direction the rock came from. She would have kept her attention on the trees the other gnoll was hiding in. She would have protected her friend instead of trading his life for hers. Rosalind began weeping uncontrollably as the grief overwhelmed her, and she continued to blame herself until darkness fell once more, forcing the pair to stop and camp in another clearing.

No sleep was found that evening, every time Rosalind closed her eyes she would replay the fight in her head. She kept picturing the different ways she could’ve handled the situation. She could’ve whipped the twins into a gallop, but the gnoll in the road would’ve killed Boulder as they rode by and stopped them in their tracks. She could’ve rushed the gnoll in the road instead of wasting time staring at him and getting ambushed, but the one in the trees would’ve done the same cowardly thing and killed Boulder while she had her back turned. No matter how she tried to re-imagine the scenario, her mind always forced her to perceive the end with Boulder dying while she lived, and Rosalind spent hours in the night battling with the thoughts that she would never be good enough, that the entire trip would be a waste. How could she become the greatest blacksmith in the Rimerock Mountains when she couldn’t even protect her friends from two bandits on the road? How could she make sure Angus got back home alive if it was so easy to take advantage of her with a simple distraction? How could she- her thoughts were cut short by the sensation of a wet snout touching her face.

Rosalind bolted upright, hammer in hand, to see Angus had wandered over and pressed his face into hers. The unexpected warmth and closeness of a horse that had never shown affection in his life made her break down into tears all over again. She cried as she hugged his face, feeling as though they shared the same sadness at the loss of their best friend. She sobbed into his forehead for what felt like an eternity, and Angus let her embrace him until her breathing slowed and the tears lessened. Angus layed down on the ground beside her and let her curl up against him, allowing Rosalind to finally fall asleep in the comfort of knowing she wasn’t alone in her pain.

Angus and Rosalind overslept, waking up to the sun having already crossed a quarter of its arc through the sky, but the extra sleep felt like it was worth the lost time. Necessary, even, considering how incredibly tired they both were.

“We’re making it home Angus. I can’t blame myself for what happened, I can only blame those gnolls for attacking us.” Rosalind almost believed herself when she said it, though there was still a twinge of guilt in the back of her mind, “No more tears. I will forge this hammer because I am the greatest blacksmith this world will ever see.”

The pair resumed their journey with a sense of acceptance for their loss. They still had each other, and they still had a journey to complete.

At some point Rosalind realized she had no idea what day it was. She had been so distracted since the fight she completely forgot to keep track. Assuming it was the end of the week, they should be rounding the northern end of the Great Divide, and Rosalind couldn’t wait to be free of this stupid mountain range. If she ever wanted more mithral she would pay an army to go get it for her. As she chuckled to herself about the idea, she crested a hill to see the sun shining upon the magnificent Rimerock Mountains in the distance. Rosalind saw her home.