Eyes of Memory

A Halfling on the Stairs. A Guard Against the Sea. Names.

Gammond Brandyford, a red-haired halfling of the Aevalorn Parishes, leaned wearily against the side of the cliff to catch his breath. He held out his oil lantern to peer over the edge of the stairs and saw nothing but a gaping void of darkness.

“Guard rails!” he panted, placing the lantern on the stair beside him. His chest heaved. “It’s the least you dwarves could do!”

“Bah! Rails be for children!” Vongur gruffly retorted. An amulet of a cranky dwarf’s head made from copper, silver, and bronze, Vongur was suspended by an iron chain around Gammond’s neck. Vongur looked up at Gammond from his chest. “Don’t be such a ninny!”

“Ninny?” Gammond reeled. “You don’t even have lungs … or legs, you old coot! Look at me! I’m doing all the work here!”

“Aye, smallfoot!” Vongur snarled. Its animated metallic face stretched and moved when it spoke. “And at the top of the stairs await the Eyes of Hevroth Bloodgrog! Two sparkly jewels, each the size of your wee fists!”

“Crickets, they’d best be worth it!” Gammond breathed. Withdrawing a cloth from his leather satchel, he wiped the sweat from his face. He wore brown pants and a green vest over a long-sleeved white shirt, all soiled with sweat. Gammond’s sleeves were rolled up, and his calves and feet were bare. “You know, when you mentioned stairs, this isn’t what I pictured!”

“Opportunity!” Vongur said with flourishing bravado. “It ain’t often one goes wanderin’ near the Ruins of Bhanboldihr. Hevroth’s sanctuary’s a cradle of memory. There I will learn my Clan Name an’ prove, once an’ for all, that I was a dwarf!”

“But you are a dwarf!” groaned Gammond. He tucked the cloth back into his satchel. He lifted the lantern and retook the stairs. “I don’t get how learning a surname will change anything.”

“Aye, but I’d finally know,” Vongur whispered, his eyes trailing longingly up the stairs. Then Vongur growled, “An’ it’s a Clan, you carrot-haired dolt! Not a last name!”

“Pshsh,” Gammond chided.

“The sanctuary’s a connection to me dwarven past, befores I was turned into … this,” Vongur said wistfully.

Holding the lantern, Gammond climbed the steps by crawling them; his form was too small to take each step one by one. “Well. Do try hard to remember this moment. This and all of the other kind things I’ve done for you over the years.”

“Blazin’ Hells!” Vongur roared. His metallic beard bristled. “I’m the one cursed to hang ‘round your miserable, scrawny neck!”

Gammond worked the stairs, and his breath came quick and sharp. “Keep talking, and I’ll just leave you up here!”

“Scoundrel!” Vongur breathed.

Eventually, Gammond reached the top of the stairs to enter the sanctuary. It was an open space carved into the side of a cliff. An eight-foot-tall bronze statue of a dwarf wielding a blacksmith’s hammer stood sturdy and imposing, its empty black eyes gazed out over the churning sea; its left arm was a stump. Behind it was an ornamental maple tree with bright purple leaves as tall as the statue, and behind the tree, an enormous door built into the side of the mount, maybe fifteen feet in height, crafted from gold, copper, and iron.

“Great Green,” Gammond breathed. He rolled over on his back at the landing, winded. At that moment, he appreciated the shallow gusts of sea breeze cooling him down. “Halflings were … not meant … to scale mountains.”

“Get up! Get up! We’re here!”

“Can’t … I … rest?”

Gammond moaned and forced himself to sit up.

Vongur raged. “Get t’ your feet, lad, an’ go to the bronze!”

“Ugh,” Gammond moaned. Rolling his eyes with exhaustion, he wobbled to his feet and tottered to the statue. Once there, he discovered it sat in the middle of a copper ring engraved with ancient Dwarven runes. The ring was aged in a teal patina.

Vongur was quick to spot the copper ring and the runes.

“Hold me up!” Vongur demanded.

“Uh, a moment,” Gammond pleaded as he rested his hands on his knees. “The stairs. Very steep. Burning. Legs. Lungs.”

“Ugh!” Vongur winced, disgusted. “T’was just a wee jaunt up a minor hill. Barely a mountain.”

“Barely … a mountain?!” Gammond asked incredulously. “Next time … I’ll tie you … to a bird.”

“Behold!” Vongur proclaimed, peering at the bronze statue of the dwarf. “Hevroth Bloodgrog! Master Builder! Seein’ it now makes me heart skip a beat.”

Gammond panted and glanced side-eyed at the massive, stout statue, gasping for air.

Vongur proudly explained that Hevroth was a legendary dwarf, the earthly son of a Goddess, Berronar Truesilver. Hevroth constructed Bhanboldihr with his bare hands, and when his creation was threatened by landslides, he cut off his arm to hold up the mountain. 

Gammond panted and regarded the bronze skeptically. “You know what I don’t see? Eyes. Gems as big as my fists.”

“Okay, okay, enough breathin’! Show me them runes!” Vongur barked.

Groaning, Gammond retook his legs, gripped the iron chain, and suspended the amulet over the copper rim. Walking to his left to circle the statue, Vongur read the dwarven script aloud:

Witness ye one of timeless lore

He who delved the mountain’s core;

The dwarf who saved us with his limb

A master of iron, steel, and gems;

Whereas thine eyes naught meant to see

Within his awaits the fire of memory;

Should ye wake Berronar’s son

Bestow a task that must be done. 

Gammond adjusted his satchel on his shoulder and circled the towering statue. It stood solid, unwavering, seemingly challenging the sea and prepared to fend off the erosion it’d bring. Head to foot, it was almost three times Gammond’s size.

“Great Hevroth!” Vongur yelled. “Awake, son of Berronar!”

But the statue did nothing.

Gammond touched the side of the statue. It felt cold, and hollow like all bronze statues.

“Hevroth!” Vongur commanded again, this time with more Dwarven gusto. “Awake!”

And still, the bronze remained motionless.

Coming around to its front, Gammond looked up at its black, empty eyes.

“Ah,” he said, and Gammond grappled the statue's arm and began to climb it.

“What?!” gasped Vongur. “Sacrilege!”

“Pipe down,” Gammond said, busily grasping the statue’s right arm and pulling himself up to its shoulder. “He’s been here a while. I’m sure he doesn’t mind.”

“You irreverent, thievin’ teetotaller!” Vongur sneered. He bared its teeth under his thick beard. “You get off of ‘em! If ye leaves so much as a scratch-”

Gammond groaned. “It’s a bronze statue. And I’m barefoot!”

Vongur reconsidered and growled, “Er, if ye leaves so much as a scuff or an unsightly blemish, you craven coward, I’ll-”

“Look!” Gammond insisted, holding the amulet near the statue’s ear. There, the lip of a spout had been fashioned alongside its head, leading to a small hole no bigger than Gammond’s finger.

Sitting on the statue’s shoulder, Gammond released Vongur to rest against his chest and riffled through his satchel.

Vongur was puzzled by the spout. “Er, maybe it’s a ways to clean its innards?”

Gammond smirked, finding what he was after. “Nope.”

“Um, a ways to pour in some brains?” Vongur suggested.

“Na-ah,” Gammond replied, retrieving his flint stone and a sealed decanter of lantern oil.

“A whisperin’ hole!” Vongur exclaimed. Vongur pursed his lips and whispered, “Awake, Son of Berronar!”

“Hmmm,” Gammond said, popping the wax seal of the decanter. He poured the oil into the spout. “Close.”

“Smokin’ Snakes!” Vongur exclaimed. “No! Oh no, you don’t! You ain’t gonna set fire-”

“Oh, I am,” Gammond gleefully giggled and then struck the flint over and over until it sparked. The oil in the spout ignited, and a stream of flame ran through the opening and into the statue’s head.

“Gaaahhh!” cried Vongur helplessly. The amulet was awash in horror.

The bronze eyes of Hevroth Bloodgrog burned with fire, and the statue animated and lurched forward, sending Gammond sprawling to the ground outside of the circle. Flame coursed through its eyes, its nostrils, and its lips. Firelight glowed in its arms like strained, muscular veins. Suddenly, a ball of fire exploded out of its hammer and it roared with a bellowing howl.

“Stop!” Gammond squealed, trying to command the statue. He flipped over to his back and inched away from the statue.

The bronze of Hevroth looked at its flaming hammer and then menacingly at Gammond.

“Dig!”

It took a booming step forward.

“Dance?!” Gammond pleaded.

Growling, the statue lifted its hammer high to squash the halfling like a bug.

“Give it a task!” Gammond screamed at Vongur. “Tell it to open the door! The big door!”

The giant flaming hammer came crashing down and smashed into the earth, causing what felt like a minor earthquake. Gammond narrowly rolled out of the way and held Vongur up to the statue, and screamed, “Tell it!”

“Open the door!” barked Vongur.

Taking another heavy step forward, the bronze lifted its hammer and prepared to strike again with a mighty backswing.

“In Dwarvish!” Gammond moaned.

“Oh!” Vongur exclaimed and then shouted the command to open the door in the Dwarvish language.

Pausing, the golem gripped the handle of its huge hammer and glared at Gammond.

“Again! Say it again!” Gammond pleaded, scrambling to back himself away from the statue while Vongur repeated the command.

Righting itself, the statue lowered its hammer, turned, and approached the tall golden doors built into the side of the mountain. The ground shook with its every step.

“It worked!” Gammond screamed, hopping up on his feet. “You did it, Vongur!”

Caught up in the moment, Vongur smugly said, “Ah-ha! I knew that’s how the contraption worked!”

Lumbering to the tall gold doors, Hevroth grasped their handles and effortlessly swung them wide. They creaked and groaned, and centuries of dust burst from its seam to take to the air. When the doors were fully open, a ten-foot-tall book extended from the chamber on a sliding plinth. Its task completed, the golem solemnly marched back to its circle to await further instruction. 

“The Memories of Bhanboldihr!” Vongur breathed.

Gammond stood and rubbed his shoulders, sore from being tossed to the ground. He squinted from the pain. Mountain climbing, he thought, in the middle of the night! He could do with a nap, a hot tea, and breakfast, second breakfast, come to think of it. Brushing himself off, Gammond was taken aback by the enormous tome. “Okay, that’s the biggest book I’ve ever seen, but what’s that? Under it?”

“The Eyes!” Vongur whispered.

Below the book, affixed to the plinth, were two pink, transparent gems. They were indeed the size of Gammond’s fist, but more appropriately, they would fit snugly into the empty eye sockets of the golem.

“Huh,” Gammond grumbled. “Smart Dwarves. Keeping them behind the door makes ‘em harder to steal.”

“Blazin’ Hells! What’re you waitin’ for? Go to it!” Vongur demanded. 

Gammond walked cautiously past the glowering statue, half expecting it to try and hit him again. He went beyond the tall maple tree and to the book. He had to climb the plinth and stand on its edge to see the writing on the book's pages; the design of the plinth seemed to suggest standing on it was appropriate.

Removing Vongur from around his neck, Gammond held the amulet out to read the Dwarven text.

“Gurgrot, Gurmont,” Vongur read aloud. “It’s a list of Bhanboldihr families. Husbands, wives, births, offspring. Arranged by first names!”

“Who’re we looking for?” Gammond asked.

“Thurmin, my father!”

Releasing the amulet, Gammond reached over with both hands and grasped a page. Tugging, he pulled at one page and wrestled with its size and weight. When pulling didn’t work, he climbed up into the book itself and pushed the page over with both hands. Jumping back on the plinth, he held out Vongur.

“Gurvok, Gurvom,” Vongur read from the top of the page.

Gammond turned Vongur around to face him. “Oh come on!”

“You keep turnin’ them pages, you snivlin’ scalawag,” Vongur seethed.

Three hours later, weak and exhausted, Gammond strained to push one final page over in the book.

Vongur read from the book, and exclaimed, “There is it! Thurmin … Copperhand! Lived … sixteen hundred years ago! Wife Murisa, yes, Daughters Helgana, Lotheda … a son, Vongur! Yes! My … my Clan Name is Copperhand!”

“Marvelous,” Gammond huffed, throwing his back into the book's spine. He gazed sleepily out over the sea to the breaking sunrise. Had they really been here all night?

“I … I’m a dwarf,” Vongur sniffed, his thousand-year pursuit of self-identity concluded. The amulet was incapable of crying but frequently tried. “A Copperhand.”

Gammond yawned. He stretched and mumbled, “Sixteen hundred years. I wonder if you’ve any living relatives-”

Gammond’s eyes bulged, and he threw his hand over his mouth.

“YES!” Vongur roared. He snarled, looked side to side, and bellowed, “We’ll make for the Dwarven Kingdoms! We’ll journey to the Stonereach and-”

Jumping down off of the plinth, Gammond withdrew his thieving tools and examined the gems nested there. Carefully, he stuck a pick behind one and pried it from the stone. It fell easily into his hand.

Aghast, Vongur hissed, “Burglar!”

“Oh no,” Gammond assured him, pocketing the gem. “Not listening. We had a deal. It’s sacrilege for you, but it’s food and a year’s worth of lodging for me.”

“Put it back!” growled Vongur.

Gammond ignored him, turned, and headed back to the stairs. “Tell ‘em to close the door.”

Vongur grumbled, “No! You’ve seen it now, we both have! This place is sacred. Y’can’t take Hevroth’s Eyes!”

“Hey! I left one!” Gammond grumbled, extending the amulet. “That works for most. Listen, if you don’t want to expose that oversized book to the elements, tell him to close the door!”

Vongur muttered the command in Dwarvish, and the golem wandered to the door, grasped both handles, and shut it closed.

“Sleep,” Gammond groaned, heading to the stairs. He snatched up the lantern. “A tavern. A warm meal. A bed. Tea. That’s what’s next, and not Stonereach, Mister Copperhand.”

Vongur grumbled and shouted. “I tolds you it ain’t a surname, y’ damned smallfoot!”