Neutral Ground

* * *

Clang.

First, it was the humans.

Clank.

They came into our mines, came into our homes. At first, they were reasonable. Firm, perhaps, but reasonable. They wanted weapons of war, swords and hammers by the plenty. Armor if we could spare it, but mostly weapons. They cared very little for defense, leaning instead into the offensive side of their inherent nature.

Clink. Clong.

As neutral parties to all sides, we insisted we could only sell them a marginal amount. No more than the seasonally-agreed upon amounts, and only implements designed for farming and agriculture. Weapons of war were against the treaties. The humans left, but only after many words of venom were thrown our way.

We did not care. We had our pride as dwarves to carry us through, and trade often did not favor the loser.

Clang.

Next came the orcs. They, too, wanted instruments of war. Where humanity wanted weaponry, they wanted armors of steel and iron. Chest plates of bronze, shields of iron and full suits of steel, anything and everything we could spare to keep their soldiers alive in the coming war. A war against, in their words, those “man-heathens that walk their sacred lands.”

Clang. Spang… Clong!

We told them the same answer. Dwarves were neutral, we could not take sides. Unless the orcs wanted their yearly allotment of farming equipment, there was little we could provide them. When they left our home, they left under much the same foreboding attitude as did the humans.

We should have heeded the warnings, but we did not.

Clonk.

The day the war came to our home is one no dwarf will ever forget. They came under pretense, hiding under the flag of negotiation to get around our guards. Once the forward guards were slaughtered, the bulk of the human army pressed forward, entering our home in force. It did not take us long to respond in kind, but betrayal lurked at our rear gates.

Spang… Clonk.

The orcs, aware of mankind’s attempt to steal our weaponry for themselves, made their own moves into our home at the same moment. They pushed past our southern gates while we were distracted by the humans at our northern front. If we’d only been forced to fight on one side, perhaps we would have had a chance. But to fight on dual fronts, both surprise attacks, and when many of our kin were not in a place to effectively fight back?

It was a massacre.

Clonk.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

The sword was ready. I did not inspect the blade as I sharpened it; I already knew from the sounds of the blade as it sang while I hammered that it was forged to perfection. My breastplate was already polished to a high sheen, ready to show the face of terror reflected on both orc and human alike. All that was left was to finish the edge of the sword.

My kind was now scattered to the four winds, left to our own devices while humanity and orc kind fought over our scraps. I would be surprised if even a quarter of us remained alive. But, as they would soon find out, they had made one critical mistake.

They’d left me alive. I would show them the error of this judgment and bring justice for my people – using the weaponry that humanity so desperately wanted forged, and the armor that the orcs wanted for their own.

One soul, and one corpse, at a time.