Chapter Text
Zunda grunts and hauls herself up the last bit of treacherous path. Of all the bloody minding, stubborn things. She stands a moment, catching her breath, and then approaches the great doors to…
“What’s this place called again?” she asks.
“Dwarf Village!” Bergen exclaims, practically vibrating with energy despite the long and difficult trek.
“Of course,” she says. “A hundred potch says a man named it.”
“I am not taking that bet!” Bergen says.
At least he’s learning. Getting away from that creep Levi was a good move, as was coming to live with the rest of the dwarves and learning to make things under Wabon. But in the end Wabon’s also just a man, and Zunda’s rather proud of her decision to steal him away for this diplomatic mission.
“Well, let’s get this disaster over with,” she says, walking up to the gates. “Oy! Open up in there!”
A series of clangs and gears turning answer her, as a clockwork face appears in the gate’s intricate façade.
“And who are you to demand admittance to Dwarf Village?” the face asks.
“I’m Zunda,” she says, then points a thumb at the kid. “That’s Bergen. We’re dwarves.”
A mechanical eye extends from the gate and moves up and down in appraisal.
“You are ground dwarves,” the face says. “You must have permission to enter.”
“Of all the bloody useless and arrogant nonsense,” Zunda says. “I bet you were built by a man.”
“Err…” the face says. “Please state the purpose of your visit or the nature of your invitation.”
“I can’t believe they call us ground dwarves,” she says to Bergen. “Ridiculous. Do we go around calling them land dwarves?”
“I think Master Wabon might,” Bergen says, scratching his chin.
“Because Master Wabon is a man,” she says. “And an idiot to boot. No doubt like whichever genius decided we were ground dwarves. I swear, the lot of them likely need to be tossed out their above ground windows.”
“Err…” the face says. “Please state the purpose of y—”
“I’m here to bloody well see your leader,” Zunda says. “I’m Zunda, leader of the dwarves in Falena. I want to discuss opening more of a relationship between our two peoples.”
The face seems to process that information, then the eye retracts and the gates open, revealing a pair of armed dwarves.
“Please state your purpose!” one of the guards shouts.
“I just did that to your bloody gate!” she shouts back, then turns to Bergen. “I swear, this is what happens when you leave men in charge. This is the sort of nonsense that caused the troubles back home. All that suspicion and pointless complexities.”
“Well you can tell it again to me,” the guard says, stepping forward, imposing in his armor and weaponry.
Zunda blows a raspberry. “Fine. I am Zunda, leader of the dwarves in Falena and a member of the new assembly. I was speaking to an envoy from Toran who mentioned that the dwarves in her country were a lot different than those in Falena, and I figured it was beyond time to close the distance that has opened up between our peoples. Good enough?”
The guard squints in thought, then shrugs. “You’re lucky the chief is a lot more forgiving these days. Before the war, there’s no way he’d have let you in.”
“Congrats to him on going up a cup size, then,” she says. “I don’t suppose we’re to be taken directly to see him?”
The guard growls. “You’ll be escorted to where you can be more thoroughly questioned, to verify you don’t have any other motives for being here.”
Zunda cannot roll her eyes hard enough.
“But what about me?” Bergen asks. “I’m a man!”
“You’re a boy,” Zunda says. “Which is slightly different.”
“But I’ll become a man soon.”
“Not if you’re smart you won’t,” she says. “But then, that’s often how it falls out. Tough break, really. I’m sorry for you.”
“Wha—”
He’s cut off as the door to the room opens. It’s not quite a cell, though it feels a bit like one. No doubt there’s ridiculous traps and contraptions all in the wall and floor that would do something to them if they started making a scene. The guard from before enters, then motions for her and Bergen to follow.
“Finally,” she says, and is led through a series of hallways to a much nicer part of the building. One with a lot more guards.
“I present, the Lady Zunda and young Bergen,” the guard says.”
The chief, apparently, needs no introduction.
“Nice to meet you,” Zunda says to the graying dwarf sitting on a fancy chair. A throne, maybe, though she’s hoping he’s not that ostentatious.
“My guards inform me that you are ground dwarves,” the chief says.
“The same person name your village as came up with that?” she asks. “Ground dwarves. Dwarf Village. I wonder if they were a comedian or something?”
“And your home in Falena, that has a much better name?” the chief asks.
Zunda grinds her teeth.
“We’re from Dwarf Camp!” Bergen says.
The chief raises an eyebrow.
“We’re from a place that used to be called Dwarf Camp,” she says through gritted teeth. “It was named by men, though. There’s currently a debate amongst the new governing body of the camp as to what it should be formally named. Perhaps The Caves of Windows. Or…Zundopolis.”
“Uh…huh,” the chief says. “I’m afraid if all you’re going to do is insult me, I’ll have to end this meeting.”
“No, I plan to do a lot more than insult you,” Zunda says. “I’m hoping that we can come to some sort of an agreement about a kind of…cultural exchange. It’s said that your people have techniques for building that come from the Sindar themselves.”
“Things that can go boom!” Bergen exclaims.
The chief looks from Zunda to Bergen and back again. “And you think that we’ll share this with you out of a sense of…racial unity?”
“I think you’ll share because it’s in your best interest. You might be very good at designing and making weapons, but you seem to have a rather important lack here that I have in droves.”
“And that is?” the chief asks.
“Common fucking sense,” she says. “And a woman’s touch. You have a wife? A daughter?”
“I…err…” he looks like he wants to turn and go but also that he’s actually afraid of what might happen if he does. So he goes along. “I have a daughter, yes. A little younger than you, I think.”
“Wonderful,” Zunda says. “I’ll have to meet her as soon as possible. Find out the real story about what’s going on in the city. Meanwhile, you. Come here.”
She motions and waits as he fidgets, looking around the room as if expecting someone to stop here, to harass her. But the guards have apparently learned not do, and so the chief rises and walks to her.
From her pack she pulls out the proposal that she drew up before leaving the dwarf camp. “This outlines what I’ll need and how we should move forward. Please keep that with you in case other people have questions about it. Meanwhile I’ll just arrange with your daughter the fine point. I know that kind of thing really isn’t playing to your strengths as a man.”
“Well see h—”
“Fantastic,” she says, then turns to the guards. “You two, kindly show me to where I’ll staying so I can unpack and then point me in the direction of this daughter.”
The two guards look to the chief, but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t seem to object.
“Good talking to you chief. I’ll be in touch.”
She turns and motions for the guards to lead the way. After another pause, they do, and Zunda smiles as she leaves the room There’s a lot that could have been better, but it was definitely a start. And once she could talk to a woman about all this…
“Bergen, I think this might all work out well after all,” she says.
Bergen, meanwhile, begins to jump around making little explosion noises.