“Boar-Cleaver!”
Rogmund pushed himself off his chair and lumbered down to the lodge kitchen. Like the other Woodmen, he had a title which was frequently used to address him and typically the sole name given to outsiders. These nicknames could be derived from a variety of sources- a unique physical trait, a well-known deed, or a great skill. His title, Boar-Cleaver, denoted his trade as a butcher.
Boar-Cleaver’s people had crossed the mountains into the western lands only recently, and he arrived with the latest group. He knew little of this place; he saw ruined towers and fortresses on his way and heard that once there was a great kingdom here, but what became of it he had no idea. He was a butcher, and meat was what he understood best.
“Boar-Cleaver! There you are!”
The voice that called him belonged to a lean man of average height, not quite as tall nor big as Rogmund. The butcher recognized him as Torvald Bat-Ear, so named for his extraordinary hearing. He was one of their scouts and trackers, though he dabbled in the occasional hunting and wasn’t bad with a bow, despite what some of the others said. It seemed he had done the latter today, as he stood in the kitchen with a boar slung over his shoulders.
“I thought Hound-Friend said not to hunt if we didn’t need to,” Rogmund replied in their Dalish dialect.
“I wasn’t hunting,” said Torvald as he set the boar down.
The butcher retrieved his knife, waving it at the carcass as he approached, “Well how’d you kill that, then?”
“I didn’t,” Torvald stated simply, leading to a curious glance from the bigger man, “The Orcs did.”
“So you just stole this boar out from under the nose of the Orcs?” asked Rogmund. “That sounds like quite a story.”
“It’s a little more complicated than that,” explained Torvald. “But you’re right about it being quite a story.”
This boar wasn’t the exact same as the ones they had back in the Vales, Rogmund could see. But it was still a boar, and Boar-Cleaver knew best what to do with it. He grabbed a chair and sat down, and with knife in hand he started his task.
“I’ll be here preparing the boar for a while,” Rogmund said. “Tell me this tale of how you got an Orc’s kill.”
Torvald pulled another chair over, taking a seat beside the butcher as he began his account, “I was out scouting, actually. Keeping an eye on the Orcs in the north of the Chetwood. My hound and I caught the trail of one of their hunting parties. From the tracks I saw there were four of them and they were stalking a boar through the trees. I followed them in turn, staying far enough back not to be detected.”
Boar-Cleaver nodded along as he worked, “Didn’t want to take them on with just the two of you, but decided to mess with them by stealing their food?”
“No, as I started trailing the Orcs, I noticed different tracks- not ones made by Orc-boots. From the look of them it was probably a Man and they seemed to be following the Orcs as well. I thought it must be another of our scouts, so I tried to catch up with them. When I got closer, I saw it was a tall figure with a green cloak, hood drawn up. I couldn’t see who it was and kept my distance to be safe. They saw me already though and motioned for me to be quiet, then waved me along. Turns out it was a woman-”
“Tree-Walker?” Rogmund guessed.
Torvald shook his head, “She isn’t not one of ours, but she clearly knows her way around the wild as much as any of our hunters. Doesn’t carry a bow, though- just a fighting staff, wooden shaft with metal on the ends. And she’s tall; taller than me, probably even taller than you. She’s almost Ljota’s height.”
Rogmund looked up from the boar to meet Torvald’s gaze, “I think I’ve seen a woman like that here at the lodge once. Tall, wearing a green cloak, didn’t like taking off her hood to let others get a good look. Came with Hound-Friend, but no one seems to know much about her, even the ones who came before. They say she talks with birds and beasts.”
“That’s her!” Torvald exclaimed. “What you said fits her perfectly.”
“Mostly just repeated what you said,” Boar-Cleaver shrugged. “You mean the last part?”
“Yes! She didn’t say anything when I got to her, just put a finger to her lips and pointed to the Orcs. They were in view now, them and the boar. Two of the Orcs were using bows, and the other two had spears. One of the archers was notching an arrow-"
"Notching an arrow?" interrupted Rogmund. "To hunt boar? Are they mad?"
"I don't know what they were thinking, but they're Orcs!" Torvald laughed. "Be any more stupid and they'd be trying to bring down a boar by throwing pebbles at it!"
"Ha! I'd like to see that!"
"Anyways," Torvald resumed his tale, "The Orc was notching an arrow when suddenly a whole sounder of boars, about a dozen of them, charged right out of the woods. The Orc archer aimed for the group but he panicked and his shot went wide. The other didn’t even have time to shoot.”
“Wait,” Rogmund cut in again. “You mean to say this boar lured the Orcs into a trap where the rest of its friends were waiting to ambush them?”
“I’m just saying what I saw,” replied Torvald.
“I know boars, and not just how to prepare them for eating,” Rogmund raised a hand in objection. “They’re smart, but not that smart.”
“Men are, and you said this stranger could talk with beasts,” Torvald suggested. “Maybe she can tell them how to spring an ambush.”
“So what happened then?” asked Boar-Cleaver as he continued his work. “When these boars charged their Orc hunters.”
“They were caught entirely off guard. The two archers were knocked over and gored by the boars’ tusks once they were on the ground. One of the Orcs with the spears saw his friends fall and just fled. The other one actually managed to turn his spear towards the charge in time. It struck one of the boars that rushed him, but the others got him- cut at his legs with their tusks and there were too many for him to fend off. Then the boars scattered and it was finished not long after it began.”
“This boar looks like it was killed with a spear-wound,” Rogmund observed. “It was the one wounded by the Orc spearman, wasn’t it?”
“That’s right,” Torvald nodded. “After the charge, we went over to the Orcs. The one that struck the boar was still alive and the woman finished him with that staff of hers. The wounded boar had run off, but the trail of bloodied tracks were easy to see. We followed it and soon found the beast lying by a tree, several of its sounder gathered round it. The strange woman joined them, kneeling beside the boar as she examined its injury. I saw her face proper for once, and she looked...sad.”
“Sad?” Rogmund turned his attention away from the carcass and fully to his fellow Woodman again. “Sad for a boar?”
“Almost crying. It was almost like it was more than a boar to her- a friend, maybe even family. Like a Woodman losing a hound. I told her there wasn’t anything we could do for it, and she just nodded. Then I offered to end its suffering, and she shook her head. She closed her eyes, started chanting something in a tongue I don’t know. Think it was Elvish, and I thought she was going to use some kind of Elf-magic. But nothing happened.”
“Could be she was talking to it,” Boar-Cleaver suggested.
“Well whatever it was, when she was finished with it she gave me a nod and turned away. Seeing what this boar meant to her, I did it as quick and clean as I could. She was already walking off when she stopped and talked to me for the first time, or said words I could understand at least. Told me to take the boar lest the Orcs return and find it, and that she’d prefer we made good use of it rather than have it fall to the Orcs.”
Rogmund nodded, not sure what to make of the tale. Her sadness at the death of a boar was unusual, but he supposed Torvald might be right about her regarding the boar like the Woodmen did their hounds, and that he could understand. It was still a strange idea though- boars as hounds, boars preparing ambushes, boars running down their hunters. He sure hoped they weren’t about to run down Woodmen hunters now. There were too many strange things in the world.
“She wants this boar put to good use? Now that’s something I can promise,” said Boar-Cleaver as he returned to doing the work he did best.
