Maiden of Mysticism, Part 3 - "Journey to Dunnâm-Grod"

For many days, Jölfor rode his horse through the grasslands and patches of wood and over hill and stream. He came to the province’s edge and into the lawless wilderness. Sparing the details, he once stumbled upon a tribe or village of goblins, and encountered hostile wolves on a couple night. He was guided by his compass and the river flowing from the north which would lead him to the northwest. He came to a lake during his travel, which the river flowed from. By the edge of the lake, there sat a massive stone that protrude from the ground. It was covered in mysterious runes, the likes of which he had never seen before. They were not quite like the runes the common tongue was written in, and they were not of Dwarfish origin (Jölfor could actually speak some Dwarfish. In fact, he once thought of writing a love poem for Narvyri in Dwarfish, but it would have been much too unpleasant to sit and listen to). He recalled hearing of such mysterious things before. He had heard of an ancient group of pagans who were lead by druids and who prayed to idol gods that had vanished long ago, or migrated to other lands after being chased out or converted to worship Yáhnirr and ask for blessings from the Immortals. Jölfor stopped and drank from this lake to quench the thirst caused by riding in the hot sun all day. As he sipped the water from his cupped hands, he felt the urge to push on, and save his love Narvyri from the fate that awaited her. He mounted his horse and rode on along the shore of the lake and the river that flowed into its top.
After more days of travelling, he came to a village. Many structures and houses were built into the hills or into the ground. In fact, many of the houses were smaller than most. As he rode into the town, Jölfor felt as if he almost towered over the people there. The reason for this is because he had stumbled into a village of dwarfs! And while many of them probably spoke the common tongue, Jölfor thought of it polite to speak to them in Dwarfish (because a wise man that many may know once said that if you speak to a person in their second language, it goes to their head, but if you speak to them in their mother tongue, it goes to there heart). He mounted his horse and guided it through town, occasionally getting odd glances and looks. There was an older, more knowledgeable looking dwarf, his head balding and his beard and streaked with grey. He was sitting outside of a house, smoking a straight, more squared off pipe, and would occasionally blow a smoke ring or two into the air.
Jölfor approached, saying, “Leir dat, zen derk smog,” which is the formal way to greet an elder in Dwarfish.
“Raþfr, dan van,” the old dwarf replied, meaning, “Hello, tall man”. But because telling you there conversation like this would be long and boring to some, I shall say how the rest of their conversation went in words that we all can understand.
“You speak our tongue very well,” said the elderly dwarf. “Not many take the time to learn our language, and expect us to speak theirs.” A small cloud of smoke puffed into the air from his pipe.
“Thank you, sir,” Jölfor said politely. “I am Jölfor of Easthill.”
“And I am Vigðorul of Kœxuruf. You’ve come a long way to such a small village. What brings you here to the Edge of Tuin?” asked Vigðorul.
“I am actually looking to find my way to a place just west of here,” said Jölfor.
“The only thing west of here is Suncairn, and that’s on the other side of the continent. It would take you months to cross Tuin, and you’d be a mad man going alone,” said the dwarf.
“Well, it’s not that far west,” Jölfor said. “I’m wishing to go to the ruins of Dunnâm-Grod.” The dwarf was silent, and he looked at Jölfor with wide eyes through his long and bushy eyebrows.
“Why, boy, why in Dynvere would you want to travel to such a dark and evil place? Begone if you are a necromancer of magician of the dark arts!”
“Sir, I am no necromancer or warlock of any kind,” Jölfor assured him. “There is a dark sorcerer who has made residence there.”
“As rumor says around here,” said Vigðorul.
“He has taken something from me… And I aim to slay him.”
“Boy, do you believe a sword and shield will be enough to face a sorcerer? I would be suicide! What did he take from you that’s worth risking your own life over?”
“The woman I love,” Jölfor answered.
“Did he kill her?”
“Not yet, I hope,” said Jölfor.
“Alright, boy,” said Vigðorul. “I shall get a pony and take you as far as I can, but please, reconsider this! Are you really willing to die for this girl?”
“I would die a thousand deaths and more just to see her safe,” said Jölfor.
“‘Tis your choice,” Vigðorul said. “I will take you there."