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food,
somehow, on the surface."
And underground there are also worms, Hal suddenly thought to himself. And
all
those grubs and burrowing insects to consider. It was undoubtedly just as
well
they had not been invited to stay to dinner.
Despite all Baldur's theories and claims of expertise, Hal could not see the
Earthdwellers as anything but an offshoot of humanity, somewhat warped by
magic.
"Unless we are the ones warped by magic, and they are purely natural?"
Baldur only gave Hal a strange look when he voiced that thought.
"And, by the way, I still wonder how we can be so sure that they make the
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journey on their own feet? It would put a fine knot in our plans if someone
suddenly brought them a pair of cameloids."
"They are walking." Baldur was calmly certain about that. "I never heard of
gnomes traveling in any other way. Long journeys are difficult, of course,
for
at dawn each day they must find a suitable shelter against the sunlight."
Hal thought that probably the cold winds of winter were more uncomfortable
for
gnomes than for Sundwellers under the surface of the earth, seasonal
temperature
variations tended to be small. "So you think you know a lot about them?"
"Not much. I don't care that much."
"I wonder," Hal mused, "How did these particular gnomes come to be chosen to
care for the Valkyries' Horses?"
"I think Andvari might have been chosen because he was the best smith among
their people. Probably most of them know little or nothing about Horses, or
human maidens either. But as they are in general incomparable metalsmiths,
they
make great farriers when they set their minds to it."
"What about his companion? The best at working the bellows for the forge?"
Baldur shrugged, as if to say he really didn't know and didn't care. But then
he
said: "I doubt that. Maybe because he's the best of the gnomish magicians."
"Oh." Hal did not find that reassuring.
Hal, it must be good to have traveled as far as you have, and seen so much."
"It has advantages. I have even seen something of horses, though never before
of
the kind Valkyries ride how did you first happen to meet your Brunhild, if
you
don't mind my asking?" They were making low-voiced conversation as they kept
their eyes open for the gnome-farriers' appearance.
Baldur, whenever he began to talk on the subject of Brunhild, seemed likely
to
keep on indefinitely. No, of course she had not been born a Valkyrie no one
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was.
They were not a special race, or anything like that not in the sense that
gnomes
were. No one was going to suggest to him that Hildy was not entirely human.
"Of course not. Forgive my ignorance."
"That's all right, you are a foreigner and I suppose you cannot help it. No,
being a Valkyrie is just something that girls are chosen for when they are
very
young."
"A very great honor."
"Certainly."
Eventually Hal managed to extract some details. According to Baldur, his
first
meeting with Brunhild had come about by sheer accident. He had made a long
climb
to a remote meadow in the hills, where he had been gathering flowers,
actually
meaning to take them to some other girl.
The image of a would-be berserker gathering flowers gave Hal pause. But he
said
nothing, only nodding encouragingly.
Baldur went on: "But those flowers never reached the one for whom they were
originally meant. From the moment I saw Brunhild . . . all others were
forgotten."
"That's romantic."
She had been on some kind of outing with other Valkyries. On a summer day,
swimming in an upland pool, while their magic horses grazed nearby not that
Baldur had had eyes for Horses on that day.
Now the voice of the youth was beginning to tremble. "You cannot imagine . .
.
such beauty . . ."
"I'll try my best." Hal wondered what the chances were of this kid's living
long
enough to grow up. Well, Hal meant him no harm. He would try to keep him from
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getting killed, if that were possible. Merely following a couple of
undersized
metalworkers did not seem particularly dangerous.
Baldur was still lost in his romantic dream. "It was a holy thing," he
breathed.
"I'm sure it was."
As the light began to fade and redden into sunset the woods were quiet. They
were also uncomfortably cold for fireless Sundwellers who were trying to be
as
silent and motionless as possible. As soon as the sun was actually gone, a
work
party of gnomes, not bothering with special protection, climbed out above
ground
and began to carry out what was apparently routine maintenance on the shallow
mounds that collectively formed the roof of their buried village. Hal could
hear
them moving about in the middle distance, and as soon as the moon peered over
the eastern horizon he was able to see them better. He began to wish that he
and
Baldur had taken up their observation post at a somewhat greater distance
from
the village.
Despite his uneasiness and the need to remain alert, Hal had just started to
doze off, when suddenly Baldur was poking his arm. "There they are, two of
them,
on foot. Let's go."
They made two miles along the road by moonlight, then stopped. After waiting
to
make sure the gnomes were far ahead, they built a fire for warmth, ate
sparingly
of the cheese and hard biscuits provided for their fishing trip by Baldur's
mother, and turned in for some sleep. Sundwellers traveled best by day.
7
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At first light Hal and Baldur were on their feet again, shouldering their
modest
packs and hiking westward on the road toward the mountains. They breakfasted
as
they moved, munching the remnants of last night's dinner.
The master farrier and his assistant had a long start on their pursuers, and
the
two men kept up a brisk pace for several hours, thinking there was small
chance
of their overtaking the pair of Earthdwellers any time soon. By moonlight it
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