The Island

An island in cold darkness. The wind screamed as the ice came from the sky. In the midst of the forest the dwarf and the elf sat on either side of a dim fire. Each eyed the other with mistrust. They had stumbled upon each other purely by happenstance, but both knew why they were there. They were not far from the cave. The cave filled with the stench of death. The cave filled with promises of a better life.

The dwarf spoke, “The beast. Do you believe it’s there?”

The elf nodded once. “It is. It will be waiting for us both.”

“It will be waiting for one us at least,” replied the dwarf.

“Do you mean to kill me first?” The elf remained calm.

“Aye, give me reason, I’ll kill you.”

The dwarf made no effort to hide his axe, the elf was unphased.

“If I thought you would be of use, I would suggest doing this together.”

The dwarf spat. “They say it can’t be killed, you know? That it’s a deathwish even to enter.”

“Do you believe that?”

“Not for a moment,” the dwarf said clutching his axe.

The elf chuckled.

“You believe it,” the dwarf said, not asking. “Why are you here then?”

“You burn this wood for warmth,” replied the elf. “Wood given to you by the earth, because it is a part of the earth, as are you. As is the beast.”

The dwarf made no reply, and stared into the fire.

“You aim to fight this beast,” the elf continued, “I aim to speak with it, or at least try. That is all we can do with these things that exist just as we exist in the same realm.”

The dwarf looked up from the fire, “No one ever accued an elf of being a bad poet. I’ve no doubt you’ll sing it a pretty song, if it lets you open your mouth. You go in that cave with your nice singing voice, I’ll go in with my axe. We will see who comes out unscathed.”

The elf shrugged. The flames from the fire were dying down. He put his palm on the ground in front of the burning logs and began to hum a tune. The dwarf would never admit it, but the song did touch his heart, if only for a moment. The flames began to grow as the elf sang, but the dwarf remained outwardly unimpressed. He coughed loudly, interrupting the elf, and threw another log on the fire.

They sat in silence for some time when the elf spotted a crow staring down at them. Its eyes were alive, and they spoke in a language the elf could understand. He listened, as the clouds parted and the moon was briefly visible. The wind and the snow ceased, but the dwarf did not seem to notice. It was as if the crow, or maybe the beast, or some other force on the island had stopped time only for him.

The crow made a sharp noise, and flew away. The clouds, wind and snow all returned. The dwarf had noticed nothing. The elf took a deep breath knowing in that moment their fate was sealed, but nonetheless, they must carry on.

“I believe this is the end for us, friend.”

The dwarf grunted, noticing the crow. “I ain’t your friend. And I don’t care for your superstitions.”

Dwarf and elf sat quietly through the night. They did not kill each other, they did not sleep. At dawn they made their way into the cave, and were never seen or heard from again.