A Dwarf and His Centaur

When the mountains were new and the stars were young, the world was filled with monsters and magic. Deep in a dark forest, lived a tribe of dwarves. They were expert craftsmen, and though their town was small and isolated, it was safe and prosperous. Merchants from near and far came to the dwarves to purchase their wares, and this is how a certain young dwarf named Egil caught a glimpse of a centaur for the first time. The centaurs lived far away in the plains. They were divided among many tribes and fought each other and outsiders with equal frequency and ferocity. Thus, they were always buying armor and weapons with the money they got from bartering away the loot they had plundered. Once Egil was practicing archery with his crossbow near the main market. A centaur happened to be passing by, and upon seeing Egil's marksmanship, approached and struck up a conversation.

"You shoot well, dwarf. My name is Iskander."

"I'm Egil, pleased to meet you. What can I do for you?"

"I've fought in many battles, but without much distinction. Would you consider a partnership? Ride on my back and shoot your crossbow at the distant enemies. I'll take care of the ones who get close with my sword."

Iskander drew his sword for dramatic effect. The shimmering scimitar sang when drawn from its scabbard. 

Egil took a moment to ponder this proposal. Warriors were highly honored among his people, though very few ever fought, and almost never as allies of outsiders. He responded to the offer as only a dwarf could.

"When's in it for me?"

"Oh, you dwarves. So greedy. Does not the glory of victory in battle thrill you in the slightest?"

"Aye, but such glory comes at a very heavy price. Surely you've had comrades who were killed or wounded."

"Indeed, you speak the truth. I see you're a cunning one who knows his worth. In that case, as long as we fight together, we shall split all the booty we capture fifty-fifty. How does that sound?"

"Iskander, I am at your service. Let us go forth at once."

And so they rode out on the road that led from the forest to the plain. There were inns and towns along the way, so they did not need to carry many supplies. Centaurs are nomads by nature and are accustomed to traveling light. As for dwarves, they are a frugal and practical sort. Besides his crossbow and arrows, Egil brought a dagger, some silver coins, a telescope, and a bottle of poison. 

After a day of journeying on the road, they stopped at an inn for the night. The innkeeper struggled to accommodate Iskander as the inn was built with two-legged customers in mind. Just about everyone else in the tavern was a man except for a few serving wenches. As the odd duo drank their ale and ate their supper, strangers gawked at them. Never before had such a pair been seen by human eyes. They ordered another round of ale, as both centaurs and dwarves are notorious heavy drinkers. There was something odd about the wench who served them. Iskander's curiosity overwhelmed him. 

"Madam, forgive me if I insult you. You're too pretty to be working in a place like this."

"You speak kindly, good stranger. Alas, I learned long ago it's best to keep my woes to myself."

"What a pity. This dwarf and I are riding off to seek our fortune and glory in the plains. There is enough room on my back if you'd like to join us."

Egil knew at once this was false, and that he might be the one to end up walking the rest of the way to the plains, or else be forced to find another beast to ride. The wench seemed to perceive the concern in his eyes. 

"I'd prefer to ride a horse, if you can get one for me."

"Fear not, fair maiden. Come, Egil. Let's chug our ale and get on with business."

After quaffing the ale, Iskander cleared his throat, stamped a hoof on the table, and bellowed "hark, ye fine men! I seek a good horse, for which I will trade my shield. Who wishes to trade?"  

A large hooded man near the fireplace arose and made his way toward Iskander. 

"I have a suitable horse. Wait here, and I'll bring it around for you to see out front. I'll come for you again when all is ready."

A few minutes later, the hooded man returned and beckoned them to come see the horse. It was a fine stallion, though a bit old. 

"He's big and strong, as you can see. He spent most his life pulling a plow", said the hooded man.

"What say you, madam?", said Iskander to the wench. 

"You won't find a better horse on short notice. He's worth the price of your shield. Also, my name is Circe."

"It's settled then. Here, stranger. Take my shield. Circe, see to it that your new horse has a place for the night. We'll all meet again the morning."

Dawn broke and the new trio prepared to go forth. After a few more days on the road, they reached the plain. From there, Iskander guided them to the territory of his tribe. They reached the camp near dusk. It was lively with the sound of hooves, laughter, and conversation. They made their way to the center of the camp where the chief centaur lay resting in front of a fire. 

"Mind your manners", whispered Iskander to his companions, "with any luck, he'll give us an easy quest to accomplish."

"Iskander, welcome back", said the chief centaur in low, bored tones. "I see you've brough guests with you. Hopefully they will be of use for the raid I have in mind."

"A raid?, Oh sire, you honor me. Please tell me more."

"The clan across the river has been giving us trouble for some time, as you know. I believe you and your new allies have the power to defeat our tribe's nemesis once and for all. Therefore, go and attack them at once however you see fit. Bring me the head of the enemy's chief or do not return at all. Those are your orders. Good luck."

At that, Iskander bowed politely and led his companions to a resting place in the camp. All three of them were eaten up with worry. How could they defeat a whole clan of centaurs? They drifted off to uneasy sleep. 

They set out early in search of the foe. Egil had pondered their dilemma during the night and had an idea.

"Iskander, I will lend Circe my telescope so she can scout the enemy. It's unlikely they will take notice of her, and she will be able to do it safely from afar."

"What say you, Circe?"

"Seems sensible and easy enough. Good thinking, Egil. When I'm finished, we'll all rendezvous at the river crossing."

She took the telescope and rode ahead. A few miles after the river crossing, she caught a glimpse of the camp. It was much bigger than the camp of Iskander's people. There was no way this would be a regular battle. She spied the whole place thoroughly and made note of the enemy chief's appearance and location. 

They all met again at the river crossing just as planned. It was time for another war council.

"There will be a full moon tonight, so it will be easy enough to see, but hard to see me", said Egil. "I'll sneak near enough and shoot a poison-tipped arrow at the enemy chief. That's the easy part. I'm not sure how we'll recover his head."

"Centaurs generally bury their dead as soon as possible. Since it is considered bad luck to camp where a centaur has been killed, they will move elsewhere after no more than a day. Thus, once Egil's arrow has found its mark, all we need to do after is wait until nightfall to dig up the body so I can chop off the head."

All went according to plan. Egil carefully crept up on his quarry and slew him with a poison-tipped arrow. In the morning, their were wails of despair and grief from the enemy, who hastily buried their leader before galloping off. In their haste, the abandoned many bulky, but precious items. It was far too much for the three of them to carry. They worked together to exhume the corpse, and Iskander decapitated it. They returned to their own camp triumphantly with Iskander displaying the head, which he dropped at the feat of his chief.

The whole tribe was rallied to gather the spoils of war at the abandoned camp, and later there was a great feast in honor of the trio. Circe and Egil were about to head back to the forest when the chief bade them to wait.

"I have a special charm", he explained, "bestowed upon me as a gift from a wizard. I can grant one wish to each of you. What shall it be?"

Iskander wished for a mighty army, and it was so. Later, he conquered all his rivals and united the centaurs under a single banner.

Egil wished for long life and happiness. He lived centuries longer than any other dwarf in contentment.

Circe wished to be a queen and became beloved by her subjects.

None of these things happened right away, of course. But those are all stories for another time.