Sit a while and I shall tell the tale of Lida Stormlaced, an eleven archer I met in my travels.
I had just treked west through the mountains, through the lone dwarven tunnel on this continent and the two fortresses at either end. Both had been infested with goblins, and it was in the second that I lost my two companions at the time to the goblin soldiers. This was unfortunate, but not unexpected. The two had taken wounds earlier, fighting a night creature, and were due to be replaced by younger, more starry-eyed recruits from the west.
Now, I'm not one to sing my own praise, but that left me with quite a fight. While the first fortress had been filled with craftsgoblin and craftsdwarves living under their conquerors, the second played host to a great army. It was, I would later learn a staging ground for their war with the elves of the west. I killed what must have been a hundred of the wretches before reaching the surface - the deed for which the people named me a hammer lord.
I had reached the eleven lands at last, though it had cost me two good men and my right ear. With the night closing in, I made it to the nearby eleven village for rest and a chance to resupply. This is when I met Lida. She was an archer and former hunter, one of the first of her kind, and spoke in passing of a troll she had killed as I refilled my waterskins.
Now I may not share the dwarves' view of elves, but I did scoff when I first heard this. But I gave her a chance to join me and prove herself. Not that I expected her to, of course - few last long when they first start adventuring. I didn't relish the thought of fending off boogeymen every night during the trek back east, though. I figured I'd just drop her off at a keep or town when she got hurt and decided the adventuring life wasn't for her after all.
Lida was a rather quiet traveling partner, which suited me just fine. But as we took the long route back east, swinging far to the north to avoid the goblin armies lurking in the mountains, there was plenty of time to get to know her. She'd raised 5 kids, yet of them the second eldest, Cacame, was the only one she didn't know to be dead. He had been captured by goblins instead, while three other of her children had been killed in raids. Her youngest son survived to marry and for a time the family had peace. This was shattered when a troll killed and devoured him in his home, while Lida was away hunting.
It seemed it was at this point that she'd decided she wouldn't take life's lemons without wringing its neck to squeeze the lemonade out with its blood. Which I suppose she then drank, being an elf. At any rate, she did manage to kill the beast that had taken her last son from her. I now regretted my amusement when she said she'd killed a troll. We all have our reasons for adventuring, after all.
She'd been angry when she told me of her family. I still remember the rage burning in her eyes as she spoke, long after I forgot what fool thing I'd said in ignorance to anger her. As she'd finished her story that night by the campfire I got my first proper look at the women who'd decided to follow me north.
The next day, she didn't want to talk, and I understood that. I'd pushed at wounds still painfully fresh to her, and decided to give her time to heal. She wouldn't have much time to, though of course I couldn't have known that at the time.
The next day, we were to run across a beast that gave even me pause.
<continued tomorrow!>