I was digging through some old documents and stumbled upon this story that I began and never finished. I like the way it was going and though the save file is long gone by now, I'm thinking of starting up another fortress using this idea and beginning a new story. What does everyone think?
I'll post it bit by bit over a few hours or so, so that no one gets paralyzed by the wall of text.
***
Elves. They were all around her. Laughing, singing, chanting, and hugging trees. Litast was tired of elves. She was tired of trees. Most of all, she was tired of elves protecting the trees. 'The only good tree is one that's been turned into a barrel and filled with ale,' she thought to herself, trying not to sneer at the slim, hairless elven face looking back at her.
"I'm sorry, my brutal friend, but we are interested only in your more... ethical works. You have insulted us once already by offering us the skeletons of animals, but now you try to trade with the skeletons of trees? Life is life, my bearded friend, and we'll not be a part of its destruction." Litast held herself back from yelling, 'Then how do you eat?' and instead fixed her gaze on the pile of wooden trinkets the craftsdwarves had spent the last two months carving for trade. She could deal with their refusal to trade in animal bone, but wood? This was crossing the line. Her face began to grow red underneath her beard as she tried to keep her temper under control.
The elf, either not aware of Litast's mood or not appropriately concerned for her - or his, they all looked like women anyway - safety, sighed and addressed the dwarf once more. "I'm afraid we're going to have to take measures to protect the life around this fortress of yours. Between now and next year, when we visit again, you are not to damage any more than one hundred of these trees, lest we find it necessary to protect them... by force." That soft, gentle voice, overly confident despite its weakness, its frailty, its... elvishness. Litast was not used to being talked to in this way, certainly not by the beardless tree-huggers, and she would not stand for being threatened by one. She fought to keep her rage contained, but rested her hand on the hilt of her axe, strapped to her belt.
"Now you listen to me, you beardless..." Deep breath. "Listen here, we've got a need for that wood and we'll use as much of it as we need. This is the bloody capital of the region, we've got hundreds of dwarves living here, and we'll not put ourselves through hardship just for the sake of some elven ritual!" Her hand tightened its grip on the axe handle as the elven liaison replied, calm and condescending as ever.
"I'm afraid we're not giving you much of a choice, good dwarf." One of those hideous elven smiles washed across her... his... its face, thin and smug. That was just too much for Litast.
She pulled her axe out with a single motion, yelling, "We'll just see about that!" But as she swung it in front of her, every one of the elven guards, as though in response to some unspoken command, simultaneously drew and aimed their bows. In an instant Litast had twelve deadly arrows aimed at her head. 'Oh, not again,' she thought. 'I've really got to learn to control my temper...' She managed to force a laugh, slowly lowering her axe. "Er... Just kidding?" The elves weren't laughing.
"Litast?" Even the tiny voice of the clerk was enough to make her jump, then squeeze her eyes shut and brace herself for the barrage of arrows in response to her sudden movement, but it didn't come. "...Litast?" The squeak came again, and she dared to open one eye. The elves had lowered their bows, but their expressions made it clear that they were more than willing - and able - to draw them again if necessary. Litast took a deep breath, then slowly turned around to see Morul, the palace clerk, standing behind her, trembling. "Sorry to, er, interrupt, but eh... The King would like a word with you?"
'Oh no,' Litast thought. 'Not again.'