Quee Quaig's Coffin, Book Two (part 3)

Quee Quaig's Coffin

Thatch Colón

Book Two, Part 3

Carl and Que Quaig traded in their armor and weapons for rough farmer's garb.  Que Quaig went barefoot, claiming his toes needed to feel the dirt.  Carl, not a hobbit by any means, wore farmers boots, old and mended lovingly by the Farmers son.  

They worked the fields, it was the time of gathering, but begged off the picking and storing of apples.  They ate the hearty food provided by the Farmers Daughter, drank the fine local ale, purchased and delivered, for the first time in memory, with gold.  It was a peaceful existence, reminding Que Quaig of his farm, and his geese on the shore of the sea of Salt, an inland lake that was so salty, even the fish could not live.  But it was anything but peaceful, the marauders took what they could see, leaving “half” to the farmers.  They must have been not paying attention in numbers class, because the half the townspeople got was significantly smaller than the half that was taken.  The abuse and the abductions continued, under the blue sky, with no shame from the Marauders.  

After two weeks and four fields, Que Quaig and Carl, after dinner and bedtime, packed their pipes, the farmer followed suit, and Carl, using his fingers to light the pipe weed, sat back and began to talk.  

There are many of them, they have no identity, they wear masks over their faces, even when it is not cold, and they are evil on two legs.  I have seen wild beasts of the deserts that I would rather my sister marry.  

That they are the Farmer said, is there anything that can be done?

Yes, said Carl, and laid out his plan in detail, going over again and again the important parts until the Farmer remembered them.  The farmer had started to write notes and Que Quaig had said

I know you are proud of your letters, My Brother, and you have that right.  But if there is any record of this on paper, not that the guards can read, but I am sure their masters can, it would be bad for your family and you.  

Bad, chuckled the farmer, that is one way to put it.  I see your point Half Elf, no pen shall touch paper in this endeavor.  

For all our souls, Carl said, Thank you.  And thus, the farmer who relied on lists and orderly words, strained to remember the precise details given to him by Carl.  Both Carl and Que Quaig were patient teachers, and eventually when the moon was down and the wolves mourned their loss, he felt confident he could do his part.  

 The next morning the whisper campaign started.  The farmer and the men went from homestead to farm to churches and spread the word.  All villagers understood, and despite the danger, agreed it was the way to get their town back.  The Farmer wondered why he had been made to memorize the instructions when Carl and Que Quaig were always with him.  After a dinner of roast seasonal vegetables, and a rare treat, a light airy bread, the children went to sleep and the men, packed their pipes with pipe weed and sat around the table in the light of the dying embers on the hearth.  Lincoln lit everybody’s pipe with his fingers, and the men smoked moodily for a bit.  

Will it work? Asked the Farmer

It should, Que Quaig said, I have little practical experience with this, but my mother insisted I learn my letters and I have read many books on war.  This is what the greats do

Agreed, said Carl.  I have more experience than my swarthy friend, but he is correct, this is how the greats did it.  

So be it then, the farmer said, knocking his ash into the fire, and I suppose you two will be moving on afterword? We could use men like you, good with others, good with children, pretty handy with those weapons too I bet.  If you would consider it, I would be happy to house you until you can build your own home. 

I, Sir Farmer, am flattered by your offer, said Que Quaig, but I must decline. I have a farm of my own and geese who perhaps will not recognize me upon my return, Neh?

I doubt that, the farmer said, but turned on his heel and went up the steps and off to bed.  In a matter of minutes, both Carl and Que Quaig knocked their pipes clean, looked around to make sure there was nothing left on the first floor, and went to bed, carefully checking weapons and armor, and packing what few essential items they had in their packs, and on a separate chair, laid out their traveling clothes.  

At dawn, the day and the plan began.  Carl and Que Quaig dressed for battle.  Que Quaig donned a shirt of ring mail, put on his farmers clothes, he slung his bow over his neck, attached his quiver to his belt, loosened his sword and tested the edge of his battle ax.  Carl had also donned his boiled leather armor, embossed with a large stylized Kraken on the front and back.  Que Quaig looked at it critically, 

Not a secret of the beast is missing, that is exquisite work.  Why no Mail Brother, we have plenty enough for you.  

I am forbidden metal armor, said Carl.  I trust in the hide of the sea, and the guidance of Her. 

Very well, said Que Quaig, an odd faith for sure. 

Carl left his trident in the room, it would not be as useful as his Gnomish Kukri today.  He tested the Gd sharpened blade, felt for the balance, and put it, hilt forward on his left hip.  Que Quaig would chide him on the cross draw, but Carl said, when he was taught to use it, by the short men of the mountains, that is how they wore it, and he saw no reason to change.  They checked their traveling packs and went out into the barnyard.  Que Quaig went to a barn, and walking backward left a trail of bare foot foot prints that seemed to lead into the barn.  Carl took his time, Hiding kindling around the barn inside and outside, and using a liquid provided by The Farmer, soaked everything .  

They then went to the barnyard to wait.  It wasn't long.  Every villager in The Shire had been told to refuse giving anything to the guards, and when asked, point to the farm.  The sun wasn't yet at the top of the sky when Carl and Que Quaig heard the troops marching toward the barn.  They melted into the orchard that bordered the barn yard and watched.  

FARMER, shouted the captain of the guard, come out and explain yourself! The farmer walked out, holding an old and rusty sword, flanked by his daughter and son, both armed as best they could.  It took Que Quaig a minute to realize that the daughter had chosen a cast Iron Skillet, good girl he thought.  

FARMER, yelled the captain, I demand an explanation, and an apology, if I get these two things, I will kill you first, so you do not have to watch your children live in torment

Sir, said The Farmer, We are an Anarchist collective, we recognize no authority but that of the stones.  As such you and your men are done in this Shire.  We care not where you go, other shires have prettier women and more money, but you are no longer welcome in ours

It is not yours, said the Captain, you were too weak to hold it, it is ours now

The reed bends, only to spring up stronger after the storm, said The Farmer, you should remember that Kind Cur. 

CUR? You dare call me a Cur? And with that the captain drew his sword and ran the Farmer through, mercifully hitting his heart, there was no suffering.  

His children fought like hell cats, but were eventually pinned to the barnyard floor with spears.  Que Quiag, moving like silk on ice, took out one of his magical arrows, knocked it, and in one fluid motion drew and loosed.  The arrow flew true, and sprouted from the captain's eye.  

Mother of the Sea, Que Quaig said in wonder, this is truly Magic

Later, Carl shouted, there is killing to be done.  Que Quaig returned to his deadly shooting and five more guards fell before they reached the orchard.  Carl and Que Quaig led them on a merry chase, around the orchard until the guards were breathing heavily.  Then Carl and Que Quaig disappeared.  The guards formed a perimeter, and sent out scouts.  After a tense half candle they heard a piercing whistle from the barn, maintaining close ranks, and holding their shields up in defense of arrows, they quick marched back to the barnyard.  They were greeted by Carl, standing in the doorway of the barn with half a head of the scout in each hand.  His Gnomish Kukri had decapitated the man and split his head in half, with as much effort as with a ripe melon from the Islands of Summer.  The guards stood in shock, then seeing the trail of footprints leading into the barn, fixed shield in ranks and double timed toward Carl who held the head halves up until the guards were just within spear range, and backed into the barn, dropping the two pieces of head on the manure pile.  The soldiers were incensed and followed him into the barn, carefully, using tactics learned long ago in many lands, they were good, and in no time they had entered the barn and secured it.  The doors shut, and they heard a wooden post being put over the iron hooks that kept the door closed.  

Carl stood in the middle of the barn, spoke in a forign language, and pointed to all four walls.  Fire leapt from his fingers, and lit the kindling at the base of each wall.  When the barn was truly ablaze he melted out and joined the Shiremates in watching the barn burn, the screams and pleas of the guards inside falling on deaf ears.  Later that day they dug graves in the flower garden, prepared the bodies, and when they were buried, with the signs of their faith at the head of their graves, Que Quiag and Carl gave them a Druid funeral, to the best of their ability.  As they collected their packs, left the farmers clothes and boots on the bed and donned their traveling cloaks, the villagers came in, in dribs and drabs to thank them, ask for the spelling of their names for future children of the shire, offer small bits of food or gold.  Que Quaig and Carl declined the gold, it was going to be a hard few years, and the village would need all the gold it could get.  The food they accepted, for traveling on an empty stomach is unwise.  As the sun was setting they started off, going toward a much larger fight, against a Gd.  But having fought and killed together had brought Que Quaig and Carl even closer together.  They now trusted completely, their lives in the other man's hands.  

And my listeners, I wish we could stop for the evening there, I am wary, and the fire needs wood, but the story is long, longer with my diversions, but they are good memories and delicious secrets nest ce pas? So, if one of you would be so kind as to fetch more wood, from the left side please, there's a good lad, I will once again avail myself of the restroom and come back and continue the most horrible part of the tail.  I threw the end of my cigar into the coals, and went to the bathroom, making sure to wash my hands.  

Wonderful, wonderful, I see two armloads of logs, one would have done but “Tank Eee '' and now, The Gd fight.  I settled back in my chair, took a sip of my tea to soothe my throat and picked the story up, as Que Quaig and Carl left the shire.  

We will walk forever and a day, grumbled Carl, relighting his pipe in the rain, he had taken to packing carefully and turning his pipe upside down, like his grandfather, to keep the pipe weed dry.  

Hush, said Que Quaig, for a druid of the sea, you sure seem to mind being wet.  

This is freshwater, Carl shot back, I have salt in my veins, and it needs to be refreshed from the outside.  

Humph, said Que Quaig, at least you can drink the rain.  

True, said Carl, one for body, one for soul.  I had forgotten that My Brother in the Sea, thank you for the reminder.  There was no more grumbling from Carl.  

They walked on…

And again, it is late, I am tired, but we have a story to tell. So I will fold the story, like a map, and we will transfer our Heroes to their destination.  Oh that I could tell you of their travels, the Inns they ate at, but no time, no time.  Where was I? Ah yes

AS if time had folded on itself, Carl and Que Quaig found themselves outside imposing gates, blended in with the largest trees either of them had seen.  Well this is it My Brother, said Que Quaig, we are here, and I find no shame in telling you I am terrified

We both are, Que Quaig, said Carl.  May the Goddess of the sea bless us and guide our weapons to her aid.  

Wave, Wave said Que Quaig.  And checking their weapons, loosening them in sheaths, untying their traveling cloaks so that when the fight started they could shed them instantly, and walked through the two large gates, which then closed behind them on silent hinges and a noisy clang.   

Farther and farther they walked, finding a spot to camp when the sun went down.  If the morning there was a breakfast set out for them, and an arrow, Que Quaig noted it was an exact match to his, pointing up the path.  Picking up the arrow, and putting it in the number one spot of his quiver, Que Quaig said a quick prayer to the Gddess of the sea, hoping she could hear him, this far from salt water, and they walked on.  At mid day they came upon a circle of stones with wooden stools, all filled except for two, facing the Gd.  Carl and Que Quaig sat down.  

You have come storied Hero's, warriors, prophets of the Sea Goddess, on a mission of concealment.  There is a feud now, and it will not be settled except by blood.  But, as gds, we cannot harm or kill our own.  Thus gave rise to the hero, a mortal proxy for a gd when dealing with these matters.  You have been sent as the human proxy for the Sea Queen, and as such are not bound by the rules of godhood.  Nor can we help, you have only what you carried in.  Do not expect a gust of wind to blind your opponent with dust, do not expect a tidal wave or earthquake, no undead soldiers.  You are on your own, in a mortal fight with a gd.  You must realize that your death is ordained, but the song you leave behind will be as your people would remember you.  Now, Heroes? Are you willing to accept the proxy, and fight, to the death, yours, my champion gd?

If I may have two candles of Prayer first My Lord, asked Carl.  

You shall have the rest of the day, and tonight to make your peace with her, said the Gd, when the sun shines on this hallowed circle again, there will be no quarter, nor mercy until two dead bodies are carried out to a hero's grave.  

Daybreak.  

And with that all the members of the circle dissipated into mist, leaving Que Quaig and Carl looking at each other.  

Out last night perhaps, said Carl I shall pray now, you are welcome to join me.  

I will, said Que Quaig, but Carl? Nothing is written.  After prayers they found a light dinner laid out.  They ate and surprisingly fell into a deep restful slumber, prepared for what tomorrow would bring.  

They awoke at gloaming, prayed, brewed tea, checked their weapons, solemnly packed and lit their pipes, and waited for day break.  As they were knocking the ashes out of their pipes and laying them aside, lest they be broken, Carl could not imagine being sent to Her with a broken pipe.  Que Quaig was more practical, a broken pipe could hurt, and at the wrong time provide a fatal distraction.  They stood back to back in the middle of the circle and waited.  

As the sun fell over the circle, the audience came into their seats..  In a reverse of last night, mist seemed to drift and then turn into a spectator.  When the sun hit the circle the largest man, either of them had seen, was standing opposite them.  He was so tall and broad that Carl could have run between his legs, only ducking his head to avoid the chain mail armor.  

Well Heroes, the Knight said, you have come to leave your names upon my wall, and perhaps in song.  You are well spoken of warriors, whose names are known far and wide.  Two harvests ago, nobody knew you, now mothers name their children after you.  Men Want to Be You, Women Want to Own You, the geese? The geese are skeptical. 

The fuck he say about geese, muttered Que Quaig, I grew up a half elf, but I will not stand to see such a noble bird besmirched by such a foul mouth as his.  

Patience. Que Quaig, said Carl, he has already gotten you angry, you cannot fight when you are angry, you just brawl.  

True, said Que Quaig, true, but just the same…

So then heroes, let us see what song they will sing of you.  And with that the giant knight raised his non sword hand and held it toward the men.  They could not move, they were in invisible quick sand, Que Quaig was frozen, his bow in front of him and his number one arrow  halfway to the string. Carl's Gnomish Kukri was all the way out of the scabbard, a phenomenal display of speed, but to no avail, they were frozen with an amused giant Knight watching.  Had the Knight known how this day would end, he would not have made the mistake, but as it was he was a veteran of the ages of these battles and was feeling playful.  He threw the men to opposite sides of the circle. 

Careful, he growled, if you leave the circle, there will be no songs.  Carl and Que Quaig, shook their heads and sprung to their feet.  Que Quaig loosed his number one arrow, right at the giant, at full draw, three inches from his eye, the Knight caught it laughing, and broke it over his fingers, or he tried to.  He was unable to break such a slender and delicate thing, and he dropped it.  Que Quaig again knocked, drew, and loosed, the knight contemptuously batting it from the air, missing the one behind it.  Que Quaig had fired two arrows so quickly that the first one served as a decoy.  His broad headed arrow buried itself in the giant's gorget, and blood began to flow, but not enough.  Carl had been circling around behind the giant.  He moved quickly, stealth and silence were useless in these fights, and he needed speed and mobility.  He lept in, and because of the height difference, cut the Giants rear tendon, so he fell to that side with a startled yell.  

For the Geese! Shouted Que Quaig, casting his bow aside like a mounted Knight with eight squires, for the Geese.  

The Geese, The Geese, Carl took up the strange war cry, but it seemed fitting, if he was to die, he would die with the name of the most noble of, and delicious birds.  Que Quaig had unlimbered his ax, and was falling upon the giant like a lumberjack on dead wood.  Fingers, and quickly following them, hands were scattered.  Now that the giant was on his level, Carl was able to use his Gnomish Kukri to full effect.  Body parts flew, blood sprayed, and at the end, as Carl sank his Trident, next to Que Quaigs arrow the man died, speared to the ground by an eel hook.  

FOR THE GEESE! They shouted in unison.  As one the spectators rose, applauded, and left as they came in a puff of mist.  When Carl and Que Quaig were alone in the ring, leaning on each other.  The Gd, came to them with full horns of wine.  

That was too short. I must say Heros.  I would have liked to make a second round of betting.  He threw gold, gems, and silver to the ground, that is your share.  Nobody thought you could do it, but in the sunlight I saw the shadow of antlers about this one, he motioned to Carl, and I knew you were to win.  Two bodies out? I suppose hubris gets us all in the end.  What would you have for your songs?