Chapter 8
Korl held on to the sides of the wagon as it bounced along the snow-dusted road, glad that the flurries had stopped. It was cold enough riding in the back of an open wagon without being snowed on, and despite orcs running hot, his fingers were feeling stiff.
He hadn’t imagined that the Solstice Festival would have ended with him on his way to Elmshire to retrieve a drunk ostrich.
Truth be told, he’d hoped it would end with him cuddled up with his fiancée by a roaring fire.
He thought of Lira back in the tavern, and his pulse quickened.
He wished he were there instead of here, although his muscle was needed to wrestle such a large, inebriated bird into the cart.
A sigh escaped his lips, and he caught Thrain’s lopsided grin behind a face full of dark whiskers.
“Not how you thought you’d be spending your night?” the dwarf asked, his voice rumbling over the creaking wheels.
Korl grunted, not wanting to tell Thrain how he’d rather be spending his night. The orc found most things were best left unsaid.
“Almost there!” Poppin called back from the cart ahead of them.
Vaskel lifted a hand in acknowledgment from where he sat on the buckboard next to Erindil and steered the horses.
“Thank gods,” muttered Val, rubbing her hands together.
Rog nudged her, producing a slim bottle from beneath his jacket. “Take a swig of this. It’ll warm you.”
Val eyed the amber liquid. “I don’t think my being drunk off apple brandy will help things.”
Korl snorted a laugh, imagining having to tuck Val in next to the drunk ostrich for the return trip.
Korl leaned his head out to take in the view as the cart crested a hill and entered the halfling village of Elmshire.
Even with snow and ice slicking the landscape, he could make out the distinctive mounds of the halfling holes dug into the sides of the rolling hills.
The horses clip-clopped over a stone bridge and down the narrower lane of the village, gates on both sides leading to winding paths through gardens that ended at colorful round doors.
This wasn’t his first trip to the halfling village, but he was reminded just how much smaller everything was, especially compared to him.
“Do you see him?” Thrain called up to Vaskel and Erindil.
“I’m pretty sure I can hear him,” Rog said.
Vaskel pulled the horses to a stop, and they all paused. Sure enough, loud snoring echoed over the stillness of the village.
“Glen!” Erindil clapped his hands and then extended a finger toward the only snowy mound that had a lavender hue.
Vaskel spurred the horses on again, and they rattled by more halfling holes, lights flicking on as they passed.
So much for them slipping in and out of the village unnoticed, Korl thought, although he supposed a cart driven by a Hellkin and carrying an orc, a dwarf, a gnome, and a part-Goliath guard would pique anyone’s curiosity.
And that wasn’t even mentioning the elder elf bedecked in furs and jewels.
Soon they were pulling up in front of a halfling home that was covered by a sleeping ostrich instead of snow. The emerald-green door flung open, and a gray-haired halfling emerged in a fluffy pink dressing gown and matching slippers.
She glanced at the assemblage clambering from the back of the cart. “I hope you’ve come to take this bird off my house.”
Erindil alighted with impressive grace, hurrying to the halfling woman and taking her hands in his. “Madame, please accept my most sincere apologies for my ostrich’s behavior.” He looked over her head at her house. “And my compliments on an absolutely enchanting home.”
The halfling’s scowl softened, and then her cheeks flushed. “Ah, well, it’s no trouble.”
Erindil gave her a small bow. “You’re too kind.”
Korl stifled a grin. Say what you would about Lira’s uncle, the elf was a charmer.
Thrain landed with a thump next to Korl and peered up at the snoring bird, who lay sprawled on his back. “You don’t suppose we could roll him off?”
“You’d crush my flower beds,” the halfling cried at the same time Erindil gasped, “He might get hurt in the fall.”
Val squared her shoulders. “I suppose we’re lifting him then.”
Korl met her gaze and gave her a nod. “You on one side and me on the other.”
“I’m with you,” Thrain told Val as they made their way gingerly up the slope of the halfling hole.
Korl nudged Vaskel with his elbow. “That means you’re with me.” He glanced at Rog. “Can you handle both legs?”
“On it,” the gnome said, tossing the point of his cap over his shoulder and heading for the bird’s bare, two-toed feet.
Amid much grunting and heaving, they slid Glen off the mound and walked him over to the cart as Erindil directed and called out encouragement.
After the third “Well done, Glen, good bird,” Thrain shot Korl a dark look. “Maybe we can leave Erindil with the halflings.”
Korl suppressed a grin as he and Val reached the cart and pulled Glen into it. Vaskel and Thrain gave the hefty bird a last shove, and Rog draped the knobby legs over the sides.
“You did it!” Poppin cheered from their small cart as Toobi grinned alongside him. “We can’t thank you enough.”
“Don’t mention it.” Erindil gave the halflings another bow. “It was our pleasure.”
Vaskel rolled his eyes, and Thrain muttered something about elves as they all squeezed back into the cart around the still-sleeping and still-snoring Glen.
Erindil kissed the lady halfling’s hand dramatically before hopping up to the cart’s buckboard, leaving her blushing and waving as if she’d been blessed by a royal visit instead of cursed by a drunk ostrich passed out on her roof.
Korl huffed out a breath, catching the first rays of dawn slipping over the horizon as they rolled away. He might have missed curling up in bed next to Lira, but it hadn’t been a bad solstice.
As they bumped over a bridge, Glen shifted, snorting awake for a moment before Erindil turned and started singing elvish lullabies.
It was certainly one he wouldn’t forget.