Thirty-Three: Wutherby's Song

  The old Dwarf took me a few steps away from the rest of the group, apparently not really wanting to be overheard, and sang quietly:

  It’s not easy growing older

  watching young ones turning bolder;

  can’t be certain that my name

  is still respected in the halls.

  I have found I’m feeling pressure

  To embark on some refresher

  quest; and soon I’m climbing cliffs,

  hunting wyverns, braving squalls.

  You might look at me and guess

  that I’ve earned fame enough to rest

  upon my laurels; that old Wutherby

  can sit back and retire.

  But me, I’d find no pleasure

  in just lounging, counting treasure.

  I want to keep my boots on

  and keep stoking up the fire.

  I could skip a raid that’s plotted,

  say my back’s too tight and knotted,

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  and assume I’d be included

  in the next one all the same;

  But then I might not get an invite

  to the troll patrol the next night,

  and then soon I’d just be whittling.

  Old, and left out of the game.

  He paused then, took me by the elbow, and said:

  "And Flicker – "

  Maybe in your young mind

  you think that – in some years – you will find

  that you’re basking in some glory.

  That you’re done. You have plateaued.

  Well, maybe so. But often,

  when one’s nearing one’s own coffin –

  say, when one’s a certain age –

  you want to travel one more road.

  He stopped. He looked grim, and older than I had seen him. But then roused himself:

  “And this will be a first. Dragging home a troll! An epic journey and capture! You’ll have to compose a song about this, sometime.”

  “Perhaps I will.”

  “Well now, I think we’re going to eat something before we start, while that thing is still knocked out. Pardon me. I hope the three of you stay safe on your journey.”

  “Thank you, Wutherby.”

  “And, um – I might keep more of an eye out from now on, you know? For crowds of korreds and such.”

  “Right. We will.”

  He trundled off toward the rest of the group, who had been ignoring us. They sat on the ground or on fallen logs and ate food they had pulled out of their packs. They did not invite us to join them, of course.

  “Shall we resume?” I said to Freydis and Caiside.

  “You were not hurt?” Freysid asked. “When it snatched you and dangled you?”

  “No. I sort of feel it in my shoulder, but it’s no injury.”

  “We’ll have to be more wary from here on out.”

  We started again, moving eastward, away from the fallen troll and the Dwarves’ luncheon.

  “Good speed and careful, there,” Vigbond called out to us with his mouth full of food. “Eye out for those korred chaps, or squirrels, or whatever.”

  .

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