Over the River
Meical and I ran off with Nhomhisosh. We never did teach him to swim, although he was always finding streams and things where we could swim. He splashed about on his horse with us. I doubt an odder sight was ever seen than the three of us together in that stream; Dwarf, Farmer, and Horseboy.
Eventually our group came to the river. It wasn’t a great river, like we had at home. Our route just took us to a tributary. It was an important spot nevertheless, for it was here that we would begin to split up. The Farmers and the Marshmen would go downriver, the Farmers to homestead new farms along the river, the Marshmen even further down to the delta. The Trolls, the Elves, and the Dwarves would all be continuing on, across the river, straight toward the mountains, with our Horseman escort, at least for a while.
The wagons for the Farmers and Marshmen were loaded onto some flat-bottomed boats. The Farmers wouldn’t have to go far. Some of them would even be settling just a few miles down this tributary. Others would be going down to where the next tributary joined with this one, and then continuing on foot upstream to a place to settle.
Our wagon and the others that would be travelling on were loaded onto a similar boat, but one that had a rope attached to it. When some wagons were loaded, everyone pulled them across to the other side. It was slow going, and took us an entire day to get across.
It wasn’t long after that, that we began losing Trolls, as they dropped off to head toward the land they would be settling. The road had entered a series of gentle hills, which grew larger and larger as they stretched off into the distance. We came to a larger-than-usual outpost that had a tall wooden fence enclosing an area outside of the post. From behind this fence came the sound and smell of animals. Troll herders, along with Horsemen, had been kept busy herding all of these animals here. The arriving Troll families would each purchase some animals when they got there, and move off with them to the hills.
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Meical and I stood on the hill, looking at the newest outpost. All of the others had a large wooden fence around them, where the Horseboys stayed; but this one had a whole series of them. My Fisherman, which Meical, who knew lots of languages had been helping me practice, was getting good enough so it wasn’t hard at all for me to say, “That one is very different from the others.”
“Yes,” he responded, “My Father told me that it is where the Trolls will get their livestock. Our trip will be very different from now on.”
“The Trolls will be happy. This is their kind of country.”
“Yes. The grass is very different from the high plains at home, but they love hills. They are far from their new homes, though. All of the land around here has already been taken.”
Entering the new outpost together that next morning (I still didn’t know why we spent a day at each outpost, but we always did), I was struck by how different it was.
First of all, the Spearmen families were much older. I saw my first ‘grey’ Spearman… when their hair turned grey it did so all over. Overall it was obvious that this outpost had been settled by the later emigrants, after they had encouraged whole families to come.
Secondly, there were Trolls actually living here--several younger families. I am sure they didn’t enjoy it. It must have cost the King quite a bit in promised herds to induce them to do so. But he had needed them to take care of the huge herds that surrounded this outpost.
And the percentage of Horsemen was much higher as well. Not inside the castle, of course; but their quarters (if you could call a series of fenced areas ‘quarters’) were much bigger, and much fuller. Meical and I decided to go see them with Nhomhisosh.
“It is horrible living for us here,” he said, as he led us into the fenced area, “but none of us stay here long.”
We were going down a long corridor of fence. To either side opened up ‘doors’ into other fenced areas, perhaps an acre each. I could understand how the Horsemen would feel cramped here, as they were used to the wide open prairies.
“How did the King get you all to come?”
“Well, like the rest of the races, all of our wives got pregnant all at once. We had already felt cramped in our old quarters, so the King offered us transport here, in exchange for our oath to serve for a year. Some serve on the plains, holding the line. Others, such as my family, serve as guards for the wagon trains. And yet others, such as these here, move animals from the coast to this outpost. Soon there will be another outpost as well.”
“So one year, and then you go off to the plains.”
“Yes!...until you become of age, of course.”
“Then what do you do?”
“That’s the best part of all. Before, a young man of age would need to find some occupation, like carrying mail. And there are still some who need to do that. But most of us will get to scout. Oh, the glory of it! Going out onto the new plains, as far as you wish--and all you have to do in return is come back every once in a while and describe what you have seen, and how far away it is, and everything.”
“Or, if you wish to take a wife even faster, you can take a job that is more exact, searching out a specific trail for a new road, or join in one of the great hunts.”
“It sounds like you will soon have those animals hunted to extinction,” Meical remarked.
“You’re kidding, right?” Nhomhisosh responded, “You know as well as I that we haven’t even touched them. We have had scouts ride out for a solid month, and not get to the end of this land, in either direction. And no one knows what there is past those mountains.”
We continued past the Horsemen quarters, into the stockade where the animals were being kept. Here the fences were much lower and of an open weave… not being needed for privacy or to keep the males from fighting.
I suppose the sight would have been beautiful to a Troll, but I found all of the animals very ugly, especially the Kreshnin, with their matted yellow and black coats. They always looked at you as if they wanted to bite you. And they made the ugliest noises. And they stank to high heaven.
I knew why the Trolls kept them, though. That matted fur was extremely long. They would shear them in the spring (an unpleasant experience) and then sell the fur to the other races, particularly Farmers and Dwarves. The wives would spend weeks carding it out, dyeing, spinning, and knitting it. But, once finished, the clothes produced were magnificent, almost impervious to water, warm, and soft.
The Vnetters were better. Their young at least were cute. But as they aged they just got fatter and fatter, which was good, of course, as they made excellent eating… but still, ugly.
Kept all together like this, the smell was awful. It wouldn’t be so bad when they were in individual herds in the open air. I was glad when we reached the end of the tour.
Emerging out into the open air I saw my Brother, Gunther. At fifteen he was just old enough to be allowed to roam free, like I was doing. He saw me at about the same time and came over.
“Heinrich, Father sent me to tell you that you will need to be home for dinner tonight. He has an announcement to make at family council.”
I had been spending so many days and nights away from home, especially at an outpost, that I could see why Father had bothered to send to tell me in the mid morning.
Indeed, Gunther continued, “But you won’t be needed long after that, so you can still make plans for sleeping over.”
Thank you for reading Von’s Substack. I would love it if you commented! I love hearing from readers, especially critical comments. I would love to start more letter exchanges, so if there’s a subject you’re interested in, get writing and tag me!
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Von also writes as ‘Arthur Yeomans’. Under that name he writes children’s, YA, and adult fiction from a Christian perspective. His books are published by Wise Path Books and include the children’s/YA books:
The Bobtails meet the Preacher’s Kid
and
As well as GK Chesterton’s wonderful book, “What’s Wrong with the World”, for which ‘Arthur’ wrote most of the annotations.
Arthur also has a substack, and a website.
Thanks again, God Bless, Soli Deo gloria,
Von