*-._.-*{ 1 Granite, Year 3 After the Fall }*-._.-*
The dark elves trudged slowly through the snow and ice. Their little caravan was quite humble; they numbered seven elves, a shaggy old horse, a dejected-looking mule, and two tall, towering arachnids that seemed strangely suited to the frozen climes. It was these, not the pack animals, which were hauling the caravan. All but one of the elves was actively avoiding the stilt spiders, either by staying a good distance to the either side or keeping the wagon in between them.
The seventh dark elf was sitting on top of one of the spiders. In spite of the cold her hood was pulled down, and she was glancing about with some curiousity. Large shapes loomed off in the distance - it was too hard to tell what they were from here, and Roresa didn't even think the other elves had noticed. But they looked a little like elephants.
All at once the wagon gave a mangled-sounding shriek of complaint. Both wheels cranked inward at forty-five degree angles, and the eight-legged forms hauling the contraption struggled against their bonds momentarily before the rider called out, in distracted but somewhat amused tones, "Sparkle! Glitter! Stop!"
She hopped down, stretched, and plodded through the waist-high snow towards the wagon. The other elves were looking up now and only just realizing something had happened - their hoods, combined with the sound of the gale-force winds, had prevented them from hearing anything at all.
"What's going on!?" Shouted one of them. He had been a cook up until recently. There was something about him that Roresa didn't like.
"WHAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU, SPEAK UP," Roresa screamed back.
"I SAID WHAT'S GOI--"
"THERE'S NO NEED TO SHOUT IN MY EAR," Roresa screeched into his ear at the top of her lungs. "The wagon is broken. But this place looks pleasant enough. We'll stay here."
The cook, and the other elves, looked around. 'Here' was a dismal looking cleft between two large hills. A short ways away some type of round pit in the earth descended out of their sight. Beyond that was a huge sheet of ice that extended on for miles and miles. A glacier.
"Here? We'll freeze to death!" Piped in a female dark elf, once a mason.
"Nonsense! It'll be nice and warm once we get underground. Now go get a pick!"
The cook shook his fist. "There's no way I'm staying here! We need to keep moving!"
Roresa smiled merrily. "If you won't stay here, I can't risk you being caught by the light-lovers and betraying us. SPARKLE. GLITTER. LUNCH TI--"
"NO, WAIT, I'LL STAY!" Screamed the cook, suddenly turning as pale as was possible for someone with near-black skin.
"Good! Go get a pick!"