Dim sunlight filtered slowly down through the treetops in spots to give a slightly magical aura to the soft grass on the forest floor below. The grass was particularly soft and moist this morning, just a few hours after sunrise, due to a light rainfall the previous evening. It was already getting hot outside the woods, but it was breezy enough without being chilly that the heat wasn't really all that bad just yet. It was especially cool in the shade of the hemlocks and oaks and pines and other such trees of the Taurai Woods, where only a little sunlight reached. Enjoying such shade at the moment, with a bit of cooked meat and some wine from a small flask, was a handsome young Dwarf by the name of Relfgar Morllek.

Relgar Morllek was an adventurer. True, he was a miner and a metalsmith by trade and life, but he was also an adventurer. He liked to explore things, to know more about the world around him. Fortunately, the world seemed to like him thus far. He hadn't gotten into any major battles or conflicts with other people, and no great misfortune had yet befallen him. Of course, there was a very great misfortune in his past - but he was trying to forget that (the events, not the people) and move on in his life. For now, he was just finishing a small meal and was about ready to move on. He hadn't really been all that hungry when he'd woken up earlier that morning, just before dawn. That was very highly unusual for a Dwarf, but there it was. He'd eaten just a bit, though, to pick up his strength, and then he'd broken camp and set out for some more adventure. He'd been traveling for about three hours now, and he'd come to the Taurai Woods mostly out of curiosity. He'd never been in a forest before, after all, since he'd spent most of his life underground and the last few years in small villages and towns throughout the Salquedor Grasslands. This was the first time, thus, that he'd seen so many trees in so many places at once. When he'd first entered the woods, he hadn't been able to do anything at all except stop and stare in wonder at the trees surrounding him. Even now, he gazed in admiration at what nature had provided for the creatures of Arda. He was just about to get up, having just finished his meal and being in the process of one last drink from his flask, when he noticed someone coming through some trees marking the edge of this small clearing toward him. He finished his drink and put the flask away, but he remained seated where he was in case the person wanted to talk. Not likely, but one could never be too sure what others' intentions were - which, of course, was also why Relfgar's hammer was never very far from him at all.

Out of the shadows came the shape of a man, but the most remarkable man imaginable.
As he passed through the pale greenish light his legs were revealed, almost like that of a horse, with great shaggy fetlocks, and dark hooves.
He wore only a kilt, with a broad belt of woven thongs of leather, from which hung a great fan of feathers, for above the waist he was like an eagle-man. In place of skin, a coat of tan feathers. Behind his shoulders the pinioned wings of an eagle. But his face was a mans, if long and lean, and when he turned his head, he could turn it strangely further than a normal might ever could.
His eyes, like great discs of beaten copper, seemed to perpetually frown, but he was smiling. "Hail master dwarf. Follow me, and quickly, I am being followed by theives and murderers. My camp is nearby, if they trace us there, we may stand and fight many and still hold the advantage." The hippogryph paused only a minute to see what the dwarfs' reaction might be. "I am Terebenior, I have come to give you a chance of escape. You see I have brought no weapon. My javelin is at the camp." He looked behind him. "We have only a moment master. What is your choice? Will you trust the Hippogryph, or will you trust to your own ways?"

This was most probably the oddest man he had ever seen. He looked like a horse from the waist down and an eagle from the waist up - including the head. All Relfgar could do at first was stare in shock at the eagle-horse-man. His mouth was probably wide enough to catch dragonflies, open big like it was. His jaw snapped shut and he blinked. Then Relfgar shook his head violently and stared back once again, wide-eyed, to make sure that he really wasn't seeing things. Well, he had wanted an adventure. Why not? He nodded curtly and got up. He grabbed his hammer, swung it into both hands for an excellent grip in case thieves showed up, and said, "Lead the way, Hippogryph."

That was when three knives slammed into a tree trunk less than two inches from his face. He blinked at that. Clearly, this wasn't going to be a fight they could win here. Even the Dwarf knew that. He set his jaw, preparing for a fight, and hoped the bastards didn't get any better with their knives.

"Which way an' how far? An' what's yer name? I don't like callin' people anythin' but their names."

Several thieves then showed up with large black bows aimed right at the Dwarf. So, what did he do? Why, what any sensible Dwarf would do, of course. He rushed them. He dodge the first two arrows and blocked the third with his warhammer. That same warhammer did a wide sweep, knocking one's head into the other and dropping them both like stones. Then his head went into the third's groin and then up into his jaw. A hammer blow to the stomach and he was down for the count. Relfgar turned back to his new companion.

"Sorry. Had ter deal with a couple o' time wasters - namely, mine. Like I said, where to, Hippogryph?"

He raised his bushy red-brown eyebrows and waited for the Hippogryph to move.

Terebenior staggered, and fell to his knees. As he tumbled to his side, it could be seen that a great black arrow had pierced him in is side, burying more than half its length into the depth of his chest.
Once the intitial shock had passed, though, he shot to his feet; fuelled by the queer strength of panic. "I will last until we reach shelter, good dwarf, but I beg you, do not leave me there. I will survive this wound, I know it, but I will need your help. There is food a plenty at my hide-out, but I will need water. This way."

The Hippogryph launched himself forwards, one wing hanging out-of-shape from the pain, and he staggered, coughing a gout of blood. The dwarf looked at him with grave concern, perhaps he had seen someone die before, his eyes held a very knowing look. Terebenior gripped his hand. "Help me friend, let me lean against you. Do not fear, I will not die, but a fever will come in a few days, I will need water."

They made their way painfully onwards. If the dwarf was confronted with more attacks, Terebenior was oblivious; he was focused on one thing. He must reach the camp. He could hear nothing but the pulse of his own heart, which sounded like thunder in his ears. They came to the wooded hill, and through a cleft in its side, they passed through the gorge there. Climbing the concealed steps they entered Terebeniors' strong-hold.

Here the hippogryph summed his reserves of strength, and cut out the arrow. There was a lot of blood, but the releif was almost immediate once it was removed. The healing was visible, for Terebenior possessed supernatural healing. But when his body healed itself, there was a fever. That was what might kill him, if he burned up with fever.

The stronghold was a naturally water-carbed grotto, of some extinct wellspring. It had carved a remarkable chamber out of the heart of the hill, like a vaulted throne-room. Everything was rounded, and looked like it felt good to touch. There was a crude oven of earthenware in one corner, and here was stored all of the hippogryphs provisions. Enough to remain hidden, and to withstand seige a long time.
Maybe Terebenior heard the sound of a terrible battle in the room, or maybe he had begun to dream the terrible nightmares of the fever. He needed water. But his side was knitting itself together. In a day he would be healed, if he didn't burn up.

They pressed on almost immediately, and it was clear to Relfgar that this Hippogryph would not make it if they did not reach his home. He used his strength to pull out the arrow a small ways, but it had to be barbed because he could not remove it completely. Instead, he broke off the larger part of it in order to make what remained of it easier to remove when the time came to do so. It took some time to reach the passage into the Hippogryph's well-hidden home, but they finally did so, and Relfgar staggered inside to finally drop the Hippogryph into a bed. The Hippogryph cut what remained of the arrow out of him as Relfgar searched for healing supplements. He found a rather powerful one that he knew would cure just about anything, and he forced it down the throat of the Hippogryph. The Hippogryph had begun to take on a fever, but even that was almost immediately beginning to fade as his strength was restored by the potion and his body was healed by it as well. But then all the Nine Hells broke loose.

Several of the thieves had managed to follow them inside, and now Relfgar fought them with everything he had. They were quick and agile. He, too, was quick, but his was power and theirs was speed. He matched them attack for attack, finally fighting them off. He didn't want to leave the Hippogryph, but he had no choice. If those thieves kept coming, Relfgar and the Hippogryph both would be dead. He chased them out of the cave and finished them off, finally hurling a rock at one to stop him from escaping. He quickly rushed forward and slammed one of the spikes of his warhammer into the back of the man's head to kill him, and then he rushed back to the Hippogryph's side. The Hippogryph was already regaining much of his strength, and the fever was completely gone.

"Ye've got quite a supply 'ere, 'ippogryph. Th' potions alone'd be enough fer an army."

The Dwarf sat down on a rock inside the cave and watched both his new companion and the entryway - just in case any more baddies came through. Well, he had wanted adventure. He thought this to himself with a grin.

The dwarf sat, perfectly comfortable, covered almost head to foot in the blood of his enemies. Here and there their ruined bodies were strewn. Through a gap in the water-carves cavern above, the strengthening light of day filled the chamber.
Only now could the carved heraldry be seen on the walls, and a great throne of stone on a high dais. The Hippogryph stretched, and beat his wings, to test how well he might have healed. There was little or no stiffness left.
"There is water behind that outcrop, where you can refeesh yourself. I will tidy things up a bit."

If the dwarf he had been watching he would have seen the grotto being cleaned as if by a hundred unseen hands, for when the Hipogryph spoke, his words took form, if invisible, and so his will was done.
This ancient magic was no use in the arts of war, for it required nothing more than an opposing word, and the spell lost its affect. This was a crude magic, the stuff of the very beginning of time. But it had its advantages over the elaborate grammarye of the modern time.
Terebenior could ask the wind where a good camp might be, and it would answer him, even so he had found the hidden grotto; he could ask a plant if it was good to eat, or if it could be used in healing, and it would teach him how.

"Master dwarf! I see you are refreshed, come, we should eat." The hippogryph led the way up a carven chamber of even steps, that exited at the top of the hill. Here a low table was built, and at a word, little birds came dropping picked fruit, squirrels with nuts, and a great shuffling bear with a dripping comb of honey. Terebenior thanked them each in turn, and turned to Relfgar. "Is the table ready? We have almonds, and hazels, dried fruit, berries, and dark honey. Is that a fit meal for us?"

As they ate, the dwarf leaning intently over the table on a low stool of stone, and the hippogryph crouched down on his haunches, Terebenior studied the bold dwarf. He wondered if the dwarf was young or old. He wondered where he called home, or if he had yet to find one. One thing was certain; Terebenior owed a service of thanks to the dwarf. "Master Relfgar. Tell me about your mighty hammer." He said.

((Nothing personal...but that's veeery close to godmodding. Just letting you know.))

Morning came slowly, and no enemies came to plague him or his new companion. But he was wary nonetheless. He'd seen battle before, and he knew well how badly surveillance was needed when guarding the wounded. He hesitated at the mention of refreshing himself - he did not know how strong the Hippogryph was just yet - but he finally nodded and headed for the water. He washed quickly and then headed back. He raised his bushy, brown-red eyebrows as he stared about the room, impressed. The room was cleaner than it had been when he'd left only moments before. Clearly, there was some kind of magic at work here, and the Dwarf knew nothing of magic. He knew much of the forge and of the mines, and he knew of combat and war, but of magic he knew nothing. So, he let it go.

He could not let go, however the meal or the way it had come. First off, he was a carnivore by his very nature. Red meat right off the bone was his meal of choice, with a good supply of fresh ale in large flagons or tankards to wash it all down. He shook his head at the meal when he thought the Hippogryph wasn't looking, but he couldn't help but snort. He couldn't stomach fruit. He was a Dwarf, not a doe, after all.

He politely sat and was about ready to talk when the Hippogryph spoke first.

"Well, first of all, I don' like ter talk in depth about meself with someone 'ose name I 'aven't yet determined. What say ye, Hippogryph? Ye give me yer name, an' I'll give ye mine, an' then we can start in on th' talk, eh? I've helped ye, certainly, but I know nothin' about ye."

He waited for the Hippogryph to answer. He was certainly a strange one to say the very least, and his magic was - well, extremely odd, frankly. He'd heard Druids and Druidesses could talk to animals and become animals and all that, but actually making them appear out of nowhere to bring you things? Now that was truly odd.

The Hippogryph haunched down, unsettled by the dwarfs unrelenting manner.
"I am Terebenior. I am as you see me, and I can hear the wind, and even the shadows under the trees are my friends. Neither man, nor horse, nor even at home amongst the eagles."
"If you will spare the time I will tell you my tale, though I will keep it short. Long ago I fought in a terible war, and for my part won fame of a kind, and was ever at the front line. I was blessed by gods, and cursed by their enemies. What you see is what happens when the gods assert themselves wrecklessly over we mortals. I was one of many, at that time, that had this shape. Though I am the last. I am friend to the creatures of his forest, and lived many of their generations among them, and they come to me for healing. In repayment they bring me food. For that is all I need."

He strared out over the canopy of the forest, filled with disquiet. He was afraid he had offended the dwarf, and had noticed that his food was not to Relfgars liking. He sighed. This was indeed why he kept to his own devices in the wood. "Perhaps I have tarried here in the woods too long master dwarf. And the world has grown older, and I have not changed enough to suit it." He looked vulnerably to his companion, almost afraid of the unflinching response he was likely to be given.

The Dwarf listened to Terebenior's tale carefully, picking up every word and filing it away. Ah, so he knew of battle, and knew it well. He knew the pain of loss. Then he was like Relfgar, though of a different history than the Dwarf. They were kinsmen on the path to the reclamation of happiness, for they shared something few others could boast: they had both lost everyone and everything that had meant something to them. This one, though - this Terebenior - he still had his magic, and that gave him friends. Relfgar knew nothing of magic. He had no friends. Perhaps now, though, he would find one. Their tastes in cuisine might have differed greatly - Terebenior was obviously a vegetarian; Relfgar was, in essence, a carnivore - but at least they understood one another. That was all anyone could expect, really, or ask.

The Dwarf nodded solemnly at the end of the Hippogryph's final statement. Out of respect, he tried to take one of the grapes. He swallowed it, but his face was all too evident of what he thought of the sour taste. He wouldn't do that again. But at least he'd tried.

"Call me Relfgar."

He looked up at Terebenior, and his eyes were a mask of compassion and empathy.

"An' believe me when I say that I, too, understand what it means ter lose those ye love. Me clan," he said, looking down once more, is no more."

He looked up at the Hippogryph again, and this time, the look was one of a being who was on the level with another being. It was not something that could be explained in words. It was almost satisfaction, and yet it was nothing like satisfaction. As stated, it couldn't be explained in words.

Terebenior stood, and bowed, wings unfurled, with tips touching the ground. He lay his left hand also on the ground, and his right hand palm out. There was no more vulnerable position for a hippogryph to be in, so symbolically it was the highest salute of trust and honour.
"Master Relfgar. By your leave I will go now, and hunt a suitable meal for you. I will not be long. There is nothing in the place which you are not welcome to take as your own."
With that Terebenior stood upright, and hidden deep within his chest, his flight-heart stirred from its sleep. His shoulders slowly burgeoned, and his chest thickened almost three times what it had appeared, as his flight-muscles were engorged with blood. The wings beat at the air, whistling mightily, and then with three more strokes, the hippogryph had strained heavily into the air. He wheeled overhead, searching for a current of the wind, and was suddenly borne away.

Below him the woods were quiet, as if sleeping, and there was no sign or movement of brigands. He hunted the lamb of a mountain sheep, and bore this back for Relfgar. He did this with more haste than he had done anything in a long while.

Relfgar watched in slight awe as Terebenior took off. He was rather impressed. The wings were dead giveaway that the Hippogryph could almost certainly fly, but he supposed that he hadn't actually imagined Terebenior flying. Then again, he'd never imagined anything at all quite like Terebenior or his magic. It was something completely new to Relfgar, and then some. But he nodded his thanks and began to pick and prod around the cave, curious. He wouldn't take anything, of course. That was not his way. These things did not belong to him, whatever the Hippogryph said. But he did admire some of the things. He especially admired a piece of armor unlike anything most people would have ever seen outside a Dwarven mine. It was made of mithril, which of course was almost impossible to destroy. 'Light as a feather, an' hard as Dragon scales'. So the tale went, and not without a great amount of truth to it, either. The full-plate mail was certainly well-made, and well-worked besides. It was the kind of mail, in fact, that a king would wear. He wondered where the Hippogryph had gotten it.

He was still admiring the very fine (to say the very least) craftsmanship of the armor when the Hippogryph returned from his hunt, which he'd apparently set out upon for Relfgar. He was concerned for Terebenior. He was moving about and flying and what-not so soon after his jaunt into the woods in which he'd been so very badly wounded, and poisoned besides. But there was nothing for it. He'd just have to await his return - and now he had returned, and with a real feast. Good tender lamb, juicy once cooked.

Even as and after he'd eaten, and eaten well, though, he couldn't seem to take his eyes off of the Dwarven armour in the corner. It was so beautiful in its craftsmanship, so remarkable in design. It had been made for Dwarves by Dwarves, and not by those that simply made rings and such. This had been made by a master craftsman, and the best of the best at that.

Finally, unable to stand it any longer, he asked about it.

"You know...I couldn't help but notice tha' armour in th' corner, there. It's Dwarven, I notice," he said casually, not wanting to offend Terebenior. "I was jus' a bit curious...where'd ye get it?"

Mentally, he cursed himself. He'd almost asked if he could have it. Such fine work...it shouldn't go to waste sitting in some cave! But no. Whatever the Hippogryph had said, he would take nothing from Terebenior unless he had to. The things were his, unless he offered them as a gift. That was the way of things. He wasn't a freeloader, after all.

Terebenior watched in utter satisfaction as the dwarf readily took the lamb, and in a short time had burned timber down into a glowing bed of embers. He threaded the lamb in good sized chunks on long skewers, which he turned diligently over the coals until it had all turned golden, and the grotto was filled with a good wholesome smell.
While he ate Terebenior fussed all around him, pushing a beetroot relish within sight, a good salty yoghurt seasoned with dried mint and cucumber. The dwarf only tried these out of politeness, Terebenior was certain, but he was terribly grateful for the gesture. In turn Terebenior gratefully accepted the lamb, and agreed it was very good indeed. The flavour of the smoke had wholly infused it with a mouthwatering richness, but which was not heavy in the stomach. In the mean time Terebenior had noticed that Relfgars' eyes turned more and more often to the astounding armour arrayed on the wall of the grotto. At length Relfgar enquired exactly how Terebenior had come by it.
The grottos walls turned to a pale gold as the westering sun cast its last fiery rays into the clefts above. "Long ago, when there were less people in the world, and the voice of the wind was easier to hear, I heard the wind calling me to this place. Upon the threshold I found a dwarven lord, long dead, who, surrounded by all of his house, was presumably the last to fall. This was his armour. This must have been his out-post, and the barracks of the small army that perished that day."
In a moment the last ray of the sun pierced the crevice, and fell upon the armour, and suddenly the walls of the grotto were shot with light, and the carefully engraved inscriptions in the mithril were revealed, in golden light upon the walls.
"I should very much like to know what they say." Terebenior mused aloud. "For I deem they are not necessarily words of war and strength. I know how jealously your Kindred protect your language from we outsiders. But I wonder: can you read them master Relfgar?"

Relfgar enjoyed the setting sun as much as anyone, but tonight for some reason it was particularly beautiful. Perhaps it was the kinship he now felt once more with another, or perhaps the tasty meal he'd just had. But most of all, perhaps it was that, for once, he was more than simply excited about an adventure: he was content. And now, as the light played upon the magnificent Dwarfen mail, he wondered truly if Terebenior would let him have it. He certainly could not wear it himself, after all. Perhaps he would give it to him. But perhaps not. He was really having to restrain himself from asking, he was. It was a beautiful piece of work.

Then the shined shined just so upon the breastplate, and there were the words in Dwarven script, gold and shining as the sun. The Dwarf got his pipe going before standing slowly and going over to the armor. As blue pipesmoke curled into the evening air, Relfgar knelt before the armor and began to examine it closely.

"May the light and peace of Lothlomendil guard this holy knight and the Clan of Merifden, that they should prosper and prevail against the darkness."

After reading this, the Dwarf was silent for several long seconds. His pipesmoke continued to curl into the air, wreathing his head in a bluish aura. Merifden. A clan long lost in the libraries of the Dwarves, known only in legend, and distant legend at that.

"It's a blessing," Relfgar said finally, "for one o' th' oldest Dwarven families in existence. It's said that when th' last o' them fell, they carried with 'em the pride o' the Dwarves - all the Dwarves, both those that had been and those that were, and those that would be. I know his exploits well, if on'y in literature. He mapped most o' th' Dwarven mines in existence today, an' it's said 'e couldn't lose a fight. I'll bet," he said, his voice lowering half in awe and have in pondering, "this is the reason."

Once again, Relfgar had to stop himself from asking for that armor. He ran his fingers along the Dwarven script, along the designs of the armor, along the edges of the armor itself. He wanted that armor. That would have been clear even to a complete idiot. But he wasn't about to be rude about it.

Terebenior was thrilled by the generous insight into the dwarves secret culture and language. He saw quite a different side of Relfgar then, probably what the dwarf was like at work in the smithy. All his bluster was gone, and he moved slowly, and it could be seen that his mind worked within a vast hall of thought, and that unfathomable machines of contemplation were at work. His hands moved involuntarily, and Terebenior guessed it was the secret sign-language the dwarven-smiths' used in the deafening loudness of their smithies. Relfgar finished all the tobacco in his pipe, intently studying the armours inscriptions, and Terebenior appeared at his elbow to retamp it with fresh leaf, and held the burning taper to relight it.

"Friend Relfgar. It looks a perfect size to suit you. I do not think the fallen lord would wish that his suit remain here forever. Can I help you put it on?"

Terebenior was certain that his attempts to help were more of a hindrance than anything. But he only wanted to help, to be a part of something that was magnificent. When he stepped back his breath was stolen, for now, filled with a dwarf of strong mind, and mighty build, the armours full glory was revealed. A majesty was revealed in Relfgar, his face was illumined with an inner light; this was no mere adventurer. Terebenior, without realising he'd done it, had bowed to the ground.

The Dwarf was slightly surprised, but he thanked Terebenior as he began to smoke once more. Then the Hippogryph said something that really shocked him. Well, he had said Relfgar could have anything there that suited him. But he hadn't expected this. This fine piece of craftsmanship - it was like a dream come true. And yet...

"Oh, I couldn't...er, I mean ter say...well, that is..."

But when all was said and done, there was nothing to say. It truly was magnificent. A perfect fit. It was said that only one of the Clan of Merfiden's direct descendants could wear the armour. No Dwarf had ever found it that he had heard, and the ones that he'd heard of trying to wear it had all been reduced to smoking ash - or so the legends said. But it was also said that only those that could wear it could feel it, even without touching it. Relfgar had been drawn to it - that much was for certain. He had never known what 'feeling' it had meant - until now. Now, he was a complete Dwarf.

It was several long minutes before he was able to speak at all. Such a magnificent gift. It suited him well, certainly, but...wow. That was all he could think. And all he could say, in a rough, cracked voice, was, "Thank you."

The armour, true to the nature of its metal, was lighter than a feather. And he knew, like all mithril, that almost nothing could so much as scratch it. It was as hard as a Dragon's scales, after all. Now he was ready for anything.

He flushed red when he finally noticed the Hippogryph bowing to him though. He muttered for a moment, unsure of what to say and looking very uncomfortable, before he finally said, "Well, get up, man. I'm not yer king."

He might have sounded gruff, but very great gratitude still shone on his face.

"Thank ye. I appreciate this. It's...it's...it's good."

It was weak, he knew. A very weak thanks. But it was a thanks. He just didn't know what else to say, is all.

Terebenior stood, and shook the dwarfs' hand animatedly. "Now you're ready for anything! You look like a king! Surely you will draw others of your kind to you, and a new house will be founded under your name!" He felt a sudden pang of sadness. "I suppose you will be heading away before long."

Terebenior would not ask it, even the thought of leaving his long home was uncomfortable, let alone summoning the courage to face a changed world. But Relfgar was young and brave, and the world was his garden. If he could be of service, Terebenior would go with him. He would hunt lambs for his friend, and see to it he never wanted to tobacco. Not least of all he would one day await a chance to repay Relfgar having saved his life.

From Relfgar's next statement, and from the apprraising look he gave the Hippogryph standing before him and shaking his hand vigorously, one might have thought that Relfgar could read minds. This was hardly the case, of course, but the theory would fit nonetheless. In truth, Relfgar merely read the man's eyes, and his actions. His body language told much, as did most peoples' body language, and Relfgar - though not exactly an expert - was certainly an excellent judge of character.

"I'd not have ye leave yer home, me friend. But ye may come with me, if ye like. I'm out fer adventures, rediscoverin' Arda an' learnin' thin's I ain't never known before, that kinda thin'. Ye're more'n welcome. I could use the talk when the road gets quiet, after all."

When the Dwarf finally managed to wrest his arm from the Hippogryph, something he had to inwardly chuckle about later, he stretched and gathered his things. The road before him was long, and he didn't know where it would lead, but he hoped it would lead to great adventures and grand schemes.

"So, Terebenior. What do ye say? Would ye like ter come with me? Up ter you."

The Dwarf hefted his warhammer over his shoulder and shifted his weight, waiting to see what the Hippogryph would do or say. He seemed rather exciteable, he did, but that could prove to be a fun part of the journey, as well. He would see what would happen, he would. He would see.

He was more than ready to leave himself, of course. He traveled light, mostly, and suddenly he was in the mood to be traveling again - regardless of the setting sun. Besides, he liked to sleep on the open road. It had its dangers, certainly, but it was also quite pleasant. The stars in the sky, the blue pipesmoke curling up into the air...it was definitely pleasant. Something about living on the road just seemed - right.

Terebenior looked into the face of his friend, resplendant in mithril, and perceived that he was leaving, and that he was welcome to come. There was a slightly awkward exchange of half spoken sentences, and guestures, and at length they both sighed and gave up on speech. They both knew perfectly well what the other was thinking.

Terebenior looked about the grotto, which had been his home for so long, thinking what he ought to bring with him. But there was nothing. He was ready to follow Relfgar where ever fate lead them. Without delay they headed out, under a hunters moon. The path was lit with shades of gray and pale silver, and all the woodland creatures gathered, for the wind had told them, the hippogryph was leaving, and was likely never returning.

Relfgar was quite animated, he even ventured a long slow song, sung at a deep baritone. And all the while Terebenior felt his old magic slip away from him, that magic that was so dependent on no other word being spoken, on no other voice speaking over-top of that of the wind. But he let it go; it belonged to an ancient world long passed, and if it could not survive outside of the Taurai, then Terebenior would let it go.

It was good to feel the road beneath his hooves, and was surprised that Relfgar, despite being considerable shorter, set their pace. He had a rolling momentum that did not falter uphill, nor quicken down. He was very wary, probably why he was still alive, often making the sign to drop down. Terebenior felt long disused instincts reawakening. He was being quickened. At length, when it was clear they were safe, he turned to Relfgar. "Friend Relfgar. It has been long since I was in combat. I would like to hone my old skills before we ever come near danger, mayheps then I wouldn't get myself shot so quickly again. Will you bout with me?"

And so he was ready. Relfgar felt - something - he couldn't it explain it. It was something...odd. Like something leaving that he hadn't known was there. He shifted his weight and stretched his shoulders, slightly uncomfortable, though his face, save perhaps for his eyes, showed nothing. Finally, after much stammering and a long, deep sigh from the Hippogryph standing before Relfgar, the Hippogryph agreed. Relfgar grinned. The Hippogryph apparently had nothing that he wished to take with him from the cave, so that would actually make the journey lighter for him.

"Well, then, Terebenior. Off we go, to adventures an' grand dreams, eh?"

His friendly grin and, if a bit gruff sometimes, friendly demeanor led the way as they headed out of the cave. The forest path was moist with the rain of only a short time ago. It was only a short rain, by the look of things, but once they were out of the forested section, they headed out onto the main path of the forest. It was beautiful and mysterious in the darkness of the deep night, though of course Relfgar's Dwarven eyes could see through the darkness perfectly.

As they walked, Terebenior asked if Relfgar wanted to spar. Well, this would certainly be interesting. Relfgar had the oh-so-obvious disadvantage of a lack of significant height, while Terebenior seemed to have no weapons but his beak.

"Well," he said, "I'm no' sure it'd be a fair fight. See, me warhammer 'ere is on'y fer powerful attacks. We fight, an' I'd end up killin' ye."

He shrugged.

"But, if it's dodgin' an' duckin' ye wanna practice, ye'd prob'ly be good at it. After all, we ain't exactly equal in the way o' height, eh?"

He shrugged again, stroking his beard as his warhammer rested over his right shoulder, and awaited Terebenior's response to his statements.

Terebenior grinned, his handsome face lit with an excited smile. He reached out to the nearest tree, and broke off a low branch. "What about these? I can't see these harming you, and you can belt me with one hard as you like, timber won't cause me much harm. But I need to practise."

Relfgar set his warhammer down and examined one of the branches. It was good, strong timber, suitable for simple sparring he supposed. It might just work, actually. He looked it over one last time and nodded. It would work. He looked at Terebenior. The Hippogryph looked strong on his own, which was very good, because Relfgar, being a Dwarf, wasn't exactly a weakling himself. Plus the mines and the forge helped to cure anyone of weakness anyway. Both were good ways to build up a lot of muscle.

"Well, all right then. This might just work, eh? Very well. Let's begin, then."

Setting his warhammer aside but keeping it within rushing distance in case they were attacked by some wild animal or more bandits or something, Relfgar got his 'stick' ready and grinned. He took up a fighting stance, both offensive and defensive at the same time - which wasn't hard for the Dwarf, who, like most of his kin, knew how to fight and fight well. His feet were planted firmly on the ground, and he was clearly ready for just about anything that might be thrown his way. He started in slowly, making slow jabs and slashes here and there at first, trying to throw the Hippogryph off his guard and off-balance. He doubted it would work, of course - no one could be that rusty, no matter how long they'd gone without fighting. Then he slipped in some harder jabs and stronger slashes, testing the defense of his sparring partner. He kept himself guarded at all times, of course, as preparing for an assault was at least as important as preparing an assault upon one's opponent, if not moreso. This would be an interesting sparring match, considering the height difference between the two.

Terebenior could not help grinning, almost wolfishly. The dwarf closed in on him, testing his defences, searching out weaknesses with little jabs. At first Terebenior did little, not wanting to give himself away.

For within his chest his flight-heart was awakening, it was filling his body with the intense blood-pressure required to carry his great bulk into the air, but these same muscles made him a perilous foe on the ground as well.

His shoulders doubled and redoubled in depth, and his chest burgeoned three times its original thickness. His arms were suddenly knuckled with taut muscle, which was all latently dormant. His crest stood on end, and his eyes went blood-shot. He unfurled his wings, not particularly great in length, but thick, and heavy.

Then, if Terebenior could be expected to fight with an onslaught of catapult like limbs, since each of his flight-limbs were every bit as muscular as his arms, and he enjoyed a vast advantage of height, something quite unexpected happened. He seemed to swoon to the left, as if fainting. His arms clawed at the air as if looking for something to catch hold of, and his wings swept close to the ground in total futility. Then staggering backwards he only barely caught his balance, or appeared to, before he'd come careening forward like a drunk, and he attempted to flash his stave beneath Relfgars', like the sudden strike of a serpent, with the intent of catching him under the ribs...

Even blocked, that blow would have been strong enough to send a Centaur into the ground. As it was, the Hippogryph was very fast - faster than Relfgar, certainly. The Dwarf wasn't made for speed, after all, but for power instead - and it served him well. He only just managed to block the attack, but - though it did not even make him grunt, let alone so much as lightly bruise him (due to his armour, of course) - it nonetheless sent him flying several steps backward. He'd put all his weight, and the weight of his hammer, into blocking that attack, and he'd still nearly been thrown about like a rag doll. He readied himself again quickly, but he was a little more cautious this time.

"Well, now," he said, eyebrows raised and eyes shining with newfound respect for Terebenior, "that was certainly summat, wasn't it?" He gave him a small nod and grin before rushing in again. "I'm impressed." Aargh!"

He rushed with a shout, expelling breath and energy in a powerful forward assault. He moved about like a madman, dodging and rushing and dodging, and ducking and dodging and rushing some more. He made himself into a dozen targets intead of just one, trying to find a weakness in his opponent. Though the Hippogryph wore no armour, Terebenior was a fierce opponent for sure. His strength was obviously great, and his speed was certainly beyond what most could do, but somehow, Relfgar was managing to stay at least on equal footing with him, even if he couldn't get a step ahead. And he was holding his ground, instead of being pushed about again. He rarely made the same mistake twice, and he wasn't about to do it here. This was a fight to the finish in his Dwarven mind, even though he was also able to keep himself in check enough to keep from seriously wounding his newfound friend. That would not have been good at all, you see.

The scuffle stirred up pine needles and swearing, and great motes of the forest floors ancient dust were cast up in the moonlight, which shone through the dust in long shafts like white curtains. Relfgars' armour was terribly beautiful, and did not hinder him in any way. He knew when to trust to his armour to let a blow fall harmlessly upon him, so that he could strike with his own frightful strength. Terebenior took two brilliantly executed blows to his ribs, the dwarf was so instinctively honed to find every opening in an opponents defences.

Terebenior laughed, with a deep resounding happiness, that rumbled from deep inside him. It was good to be doing something physical, aside from the needs of daily survival.

He focused for a second as the dwarf unleashed a phenomenal onslaught of dodging rushes, not so very dissimilar to his own drunken-boxing style, but focused on sheer power, and being able to rely on the protection of masterfully created armour, for indeed Relfgar was protected as if by dragon scales, as opposed to Terebeniors' combat-form, which was conceived to take advantage of a hippogryphs grace and speed. He reeled and swooned, appearing truly to be as one who is terribly drunk. Never remaining in the one spot for more than an instant, his arms and wings groping and flailing.

Terebenior held out a wing, offering a target for attack, while he completely shifted his weight and position in a reeling series of flowing steps. The wing was a total decoy. If Relfgar went for it, he would open himself to the lightening attack of a sweeping hoof, intended to trip an opponent heavily. If he managed to get Relfgar on the ground, he would reveal the terrible power of his wings, which would fall upon the dwarf like falling trees, hopefully being enough to pin him down.

Indeed, the wing was most certainly a welcome target. But Drow often used their cloaks in the same manner, trying to creat an aura of shadows, mirror images of their own darkness for their opponents to falsely strike at, thus leaving them very wide open. Relfgar had learned this quickly in the mines of the Ered Annon Mountains, and the only reason he'd been unsuccessful in the last battle he'd had with the Drow - a battle he flatly refused to think about, for what were obvious reasons to him - was due to the sheer numbers by which Relfgar and his kin had been under assault. Now, though, the situation was different. This was no shadow, but a wing, much brighter in colour and a much easier target - and thus, much easier to ignore.

Relfgar did in fact ignore the wing completely and struck with the ferocity of battle at the legs of his opponent, trying to disable him and knowing full well the Hippogryph could almost certainly dodge, or at the very least block, such an obvious attack. His hammer whistled through the air, throwing wind in Relfgar's hanging hair and beard - the only things showing - and thus sending them flying backward and to the side when they could, making him look very funny in his magnificent armour. The hammer came down hard, a devastating strike at the knee, aiming to crumple the opponent and leave him wide open for an all-out assault that would make only one Dwarf the victor. Namely, Relfgar. Heh. Yes, this would be all too easy - unless he blocked it. But Relfgar wasn't going to be put off by that. He knew Terebenior could probably block it, and so probably would - or dodge it, perhaps. Either way, he had no doubt in his mind that his new friend could avoid the attack completely, and probably very easily at that. He would just have to see what happened...

The dwarf was a master, Terebenior rejoiced in his opponent. He watched Relfgars' eyes closely, and could see that the dwarf was not decoyed by the wing, but actioned a long-rehearsed counter-attack which put Terebenior in the difficult position of being out of balance, and totally committed to the wing-decoy.

The dwarfs' onset was like the approach of a glittering avalanche, albeit of dwarven proportions. It was magnificent, and Terebenior, in that tiny rational corner of his mind where the inspiration for his combat was sourced, felt that much of his ancient instincts would have lain dormant, if not for the need of them to match Relfgar.

Relfgar had spotted the only significant weak-point in Terebeniors' stance, the knee, and was a hairs breadth away from delivering the finishing-blow. Terebenior, whose thoughts and memories conjured a thousand appropriate defenses, laughed internally at himself, for the necessary answer was so simple; he just lifted his leg, so that the stave would clash with his iron-hard hoof.

With only the energy and enthusiasm for one last attempt at an attack, before he took to the air, if necessary, to call the bout to an end, Terebenior lifted his stave, which if it had been a sword, would have made this token attack effective, so that it would cut Relgars' throat as he advanced through the motion of the knee-attack.

Terebenior was vastly impressed with Relfgars' skill, and rejoiced that one single bout had kindled so much of his long-unused training.

Relfgar did indeed strike the hoof, sending the leg flying backward, and he immediately jerked upward to drag the warhammer in for a crippling blow. Only flight would save the Hippogryph from this, and he was certain that Terebenior was quick enough to leap into the air. He trusted him, or so it seemed, and so he was able to do this with no thought at all. If the blow succeeded, of course, it would crush the tender pelvic structure - internal and external alike - and could actually kill an opponent simply because of the sheer power of the blow and the location of it. He had used it many times before, and it was a quick way of dismantling an army's front linemen quickly. His height was an advantage in this particular case, and so he used it - and used it well. Of course, Relfgar wasn't using his hammer - so the damage wouldn't be nearly so severe as it would have been were he to use it. Still, it would be very painful - and dangerous, considering the Dwarf's immense physical strength. It probably matched Terebenior's own, especially in the heat of battle, but here he wasn't really using the full brunt of his Dwarven might. Here, he was actually only using a portion of it - a good portion, certainly, for that was where his most major advantage lay in battle, but a portion nonetheless. Still, even that amount of strength was great indeed. But Terebenior would dodge the attack. Relfgar was sure of it.

In truth, though Relfgar had certainly put up a daring and ferocious assault, Terebenior had been quite an opponent in and of himself. His strength was great, true enough, but his speed! His speed was tremendous. He would have trouble if he ever had to fight anything like Terebenior in earnest. Thankfully, his armour was more than adequate - far more than adequate, in fact - to ward off any attack that came his way. Still, he might end up being overwhelmed if everyone was as skilled and powerful as Terebenior and attacked him in force. He was most certainly very, very impressed with the Hippogryph - and then some.

Terebenior payed for his rustiness with a terrible blow to the waist, even as his terrific wings thrust him into the air. But Relfgar was more than strong, he was a fast as the onset of an avalanche. Terebenior laughed, if with a wince, as he alighted once more on the solid earth. He would nurse some significant bruises for a day, before his healing abilities had dealt with what damage was done by the friendly, if unflinchingly brutal, match.

The night had truly set-in by this time, and the stars had kindled ever so brightly above them, which could be seen through the shivering canopy of the forest. Terebenior was filled with a gushing and emotional gratitude, he felt as if three or four hundred years had been stricken from him, and he was only a youth of a hippogryph again; who were concerned with achieving the utmost extend of physical excellence.

Terebenior had been tutored by one of the Dark Lords' own generals, Mormir, who had been captured in battle, and who, given a chance of an honest life, had found himself capable of as much. Even so, Terebenior had never found such a deadly opponent in any of the Dark Lords minions. He smiled radiantly at Relfgar. In a dwarf, who were perhaps even more wrathful enemies of the Dark, Terebenior had found his match.

"Brother" Terebenior spoke this title with total commitment and respect, "Tonight I will make you a special meal. You take your ease, and worry about nothing that you do not feel inclined to. I need to forage only for a short while, then I will show you my thanks by way of a meal! You are a marvel, and have arrived in the dark monotony of my life like the kindling of a star! I will show you my thanks!"

Relfgar was a concerned when his friend didn't manage to completely dodge the attack, but at least he'd spared his groin and didn't seem to be suffering any permanent damage - yet. His friend seemed to be all right for now, though. That was enough for Relfgar. He had pulled his warhammer back for another strike when he saw that Terebenior was not attacking or defending any longer. He had to physically force himself to stop the hammer blow from coming. That was a bit painful, but he managed it and set the head of his hammer upon the ground. He leaned on it, watching the Hippogryph and listening to him as he spoke. He had to grin. For Terebenior, everything apparently deserved a reward. But that was fine. A good, strong meal was just fine by him indeed. The Dwarf, of course, didn't even need to really catch his breath - perhaps a little, but only very briefly and only due to the ferocity of his attacks. It had been the fight of his life, really, though it had only been a sparring match. Had it been a real fight, Relfgar had no doubt that he would not have come out the victor. Terebenior had wings, after all, and he most certainly seemed to know how to use them. Relfgar nodded, though, his grin fading into a small smile, and he sat down on a rock nearby. He leaned his hammer against a tree, but it sprang up again to rest upon its head due to the head's weight. Relfgar shook his head and chuckled.

"Well, Terebenior, I thank ye. Actually, that was quite enjoyable. But a'right, then, go an' hunt. Have fun."

His smile now was a warm, friendly one as he looked upon his new friend.