he chose to lessen all risks. It was not true that nains had full vision in the dark, but in this wise their eyes were in between those of men and those of beasts. The younger nain reported that although the tunnel appeared to be a blind gut, yet it did not end clean. A huge pile of debris at one end seemed to show that it might not always have been a blind gut — that perhaps the roof had fallen in at one time. And, more than this, the younger nain had sought and found the scent of the hare and it had seemed to go on up the pile of detritus to its peak.
“But I clambered not after it,” he concluded.
“Wisely,” said the senior. “For though I be as much a-zeal as any to be gone from here, needless risks we must not take. It is man who is impetuous, but we nains do be deliberate, so — ”
“Feed the wizards.”
Aar-heved-heved-aar, true to his penultimate word, reflected. Then, “Eh, ah, Bear. Say thee well.”
“Feed the wizards!”
The nain-senior looked up at the man — for all his breadth, the nain was no taller than Arnten — and nodded his massive head. “That must be our aim, hard task though it be. It is the coming death of iron which has turned this king’s head mad and turned his hands against us all. His need be great. But is our need not greater? If he do die tonight and tomorrow we be told that we be free, what then? Iron be our life, without iron we be dead nains. ‘Tiz but the first step, getting gone from here. He will pursue we, but if he should not, what, eh? We do make the hoe, but we hoe not; we have traded iron and iron’s work for most our food. We make the spearhead, but we cast no spear. And if we will to eat in the woods, as the wild brawnes do — say, ah! — be not the wild brawnes a fitter match for us, be we not armed with iron?”
He uttered a long, shuddering cry and his head shook so from side to side that his thick hair rustled upon his broad and shaggy shoulders. “Men gender much,” he said, “and the men-wives bear often. Nains gender seldom for our passion be for the forge and few are the nain-brains our shes do get. Before the Great Bear took starfire and gave it we and beteached we how to delve and deliver metal from the earth’s belly and to mold and shape it as the bears do mold and shape their cubs — before even the yore-tide — men were few and nains were few and lived they twain folk far apart, for broad and long be Thule.
“But since then men have swarmed — yet the nain’s numbers do stay the same. Still be Nainland far from menland, eh but ah,
it be not so far as once ‘twas!
Men can hunt without iron, men can farm without iron, men can still beget them many mennikins without iron; men can do without iron and I betell thee this:
If men may live without iron, men may live without nains
.”
The echo of his voice was long in his listeners’ minds.
He divided them into nine watches and to each watch he assigned a third part of one night. And the first watch for the first third of the first night began at once to clear away with slow care the rubble at the end of what they had begun to call the Doe-Hare’s Den. The nains stripped off their leather kilts and piled loose stone therein, then gathered up the corners four and slung the juried bags over their shoulders and trudged away on noiseless feet to empty their loads well out of sight in yet another disused corridor. And then to return. Thus, while the work went on, none lost more rest than one-third of every third night; and, after many nights, the toilers in the Doe-Hare’s Den, pausing a moment for rest, recognized in their nostrils the bitter, faint, familiar smell of woodsmoke — and recognized that an aperture, of whatsoever a nature, existed between them in their captivity and the unfettered outside world.
• • •
And thus the elusive memory returned to the boy. Remembering woodsmoke and firelight and father’s words, he said, “The strange woman who was here. Was she the
“But I clambered not after it,” he concluded.
“Wisely,” said the senior. “For though I be as much a-zeal as any to be gone from here, needless risks we must not take. It is man who is impetuous, but we nains do be deliberate, so — ”
“Feed the wizards.”
Aar-heved-heved-aar, true to his penultimate word, reflected. Then, “Eh, ah, Bear. Say thee well.”
“Feed the wizards!”
The nain-senior looked up at the man — for all his breadth, the nain was no taller than Arnten — and nodded his massive head. “That must be our aim, hard task though it be. It is the coming death of iron which has turned this king’s head mad and turned his hands against us all. His need be great. But is our need not greater? If he do die tonight and tomorrow we be told that we be free, what then? Iron be our life, without iron we be dead nains. ‘Tiz but the first step, getting gone from here. He will pursue we, but if he should not, what, eh? We do make the hoe, but we hoe not; we have traded iron and iron’s work for most our food. We make the spearhead, but we cast no spear. And if we will to eat in the woods, as the wild brawnes do — say, ah! — be not the wild brawnes a fitter match for us, be we not armed with iron?”
He uttered a long, shuddering cry and his head shook so from side to side that his thick hair rustled upon his broad and shaggy shoulders. “Men gender much,” he said, “and the men-wives bear often. Nains gender seldom for our passion be for the forge and few are the nain-brains our shes do get. Before the Great Bear took starfire and gave it we and beteached we how to delve and deliver metal from the earth’s belly and to mold and shape it as the bears do mold and shape their cubs — before even the yore-tide — men were few and nains were few and lived they twain folk far apart, for broad and long be Thule.
“But since then men have swarmed — yet the nain’s numbers do stay the same. Still be Nainland far from menland, eh but ah,
it be not so far as once ‘twas!
Men can hunt without iron, men can farm without iron, men can still beget them many mennikins without iron; men can do without iron and I betell thee this:
If men may live without iron, men may live without nains
.”
The echo of his voice was long in his listeners’ minds.
He divided them into nine watches and to each watch he assigned a third part of one night. And the first watch for the first third of the first night began at once to clear away with slow care the rubble at the end of what they had begun to call the Doe-Hare’s Den. The nains stripped off their leather kilts and piled loose stone therein, then gathered up the corners four and slung the juried bags over their shoulders and trudged away on noiseless feet to empty their loads well out of sight in yet another disused corridor. And then to return. Thus, while the work went on, none lost more rest than one-third of every third night; and, after many nights, the toilers in the Doe-Hare’s Den, pausing a moment for rest, recognized in their nostrils the bitter, faint, familiar smell of woodsmoke — and recognized that an aperture, of whatsoever a nature, existed between them in their captivity and the unfettered outside world.
• • •
And thus the elusive memory returned to the boy. Remembering woodsmoke and firelight and father’s words, he said, “The strange woman who was here. Was she the
Similar Books
