Chapter One The legendary Dusheen

This is a fantasy story I wrote stay tuned for the next chapter coming out soon!

Chapter 1 Dusheen

Dusheen sat on his bed and puffed his pipe several times before blowing out the candle and locking the door to his small stone cottage. He set out for Valerinth, the largest city of the realm, a two-day journey by foot. He walked past a row of houses, his sword clanging at his side. His deerskin shoes instantly became soggy in the muddy street.

A clear and starry night fell under a thick fog and mist though the moon still shone brightly in the sky. The thick humid mist soaked the city in omens and treachery.

“This city used to be such a special place…” He muttered.

The road was wide, and the moon shone through a patchwork of clouds lighting the way to a covered bridge. After the bridge was the woods that surrounded the city. He walked with purpose and stood upright taking long strides.

As he marched across the bridge, he noticed how dark the woods were even though it would be daylight soon. He slowed his pace slightly. Ahead a large figure darted into the shadows along the edge of the road.

“Gods...”

He continued on making his best attempt to keep the same pace and posture. Despite his resolve his shoulders rose and as the area came closer, the forest surrounded him and became darker.

His hand tensed on the handle of his short sword and the leather cracked a little. A faint sound, some kind of creature rustling in the woods close by the trail, a bird or mouse or lizard. His eyes began to dart and search for light. The area was quickly approaching now, or had he passed it? He could not tell as the woods grew darker the further, he walked on, he gripped the hilt of the sword now firmly holding it ready to draw. He walked on. Surely, he had passed the spot by now. Was he mistaken? His heartbeat raced and he consciously took a deep breath.

“hmph” he snorted. “I am ready if anyone comes out of these woods.”

He could feel his voice giving slightly. The area surrounding the town was fine by day, but three people had gone missing in the last month, all vanishing without a trace.

He stumbled over some root or rock on the path and a twig snapped nearby.

A rush of movement behind him and then the pressure of a sharp poke in his lower back. The sound of steel meeting steel rang out, breaking the silence of the predawn morning. He had drawn his sword and knocked someone's blade into the grass at the edge of the woods.

Dusheen was now sword to chest with Jorace, the son of the Jarl. His jaws clenched. The moment he noticed who it was he returned his sword to its scabbard. Jorace’s long black hair was damp from moisture in the moonlight.

“Jorace pick up your sword when I return, I will show you how to hold it properly.” The two had known each other since Jorace was born. A look of very real fright flashed across his face before Jorace softened into a smile.

“I shall teach you to hold your pipe properly elf.”

Jorace now stooped to retrieve his sword. Dusheen had already taken to walking again.

“You almost killed the jarls son!” called Jorace.

Dusheen had already continued up the road and around a bend before the words could leave the younger man’s mouth. Knowing someone of high regard nearby steadied his resolve and Dusheen continued his march knowing the sun would be rising soon.

After a short while walking the first light broke on the horizon in a burst of bright pink haze in the morning sky. The air smelled sweet of wild meadows and the early birds began singing their rhythmic melodies.

He had seen Jorace grow from a youth to a now powerful man of thirty. Dusheen himself, being one hundred and fifty-one years old, had seen generations of Jorace’s family rule the city in relative peace with only the occasional drunken brawl until more recently. Ten years prior there had been a terrible plague that wrecked many in the local population. Since then, the town that Dusheen had known for so many years seemed like a melancholy grim place. He lost many close to him and a part of him passed with them. Crime had spiked with more and more happenings of robberies many women of the city who had lost husbands where now on the street in one form or other men who had lost their wives took to the bar and more brawls led to blood than Dusheen could ever remember.

He would now be training soldiers for the jarls guard. The guards would serve as a security presence in the city. After he had served the full fifteen years training these men he would be in no need of money.

He hoped for an early retirement where he could simply fish and shoot his bow. Dusheen at this point had wondered many times about his place in the world, he had no real direction. He would often sit smoking his pipe fantasizing about leaving the city for good.

The elf wiped his brow

He thought of the different faces of women he would see in Valerinth. Their hair of red and yellow and black with skin of all shades. He would have a choice between any assortment he desired in a city of that size. Two at a time if he so wished it.

He was tall for an elf, a powerfully built handsome and youthful looking elf of one hundred fifty-one years old. He had thin eyebrows and dark brown hair that curled nearly to his shoulders. His years of training with the sword gave him a look of confidence.

He quickened his pace when in the distance, he could see a row of fences and some scattered cattle in the fields. The small village had several farms just outside of it. He strode past the farms and straight into the village. By now it was past noon. He strode past a beggar who mumbled to himself. He noticed the poor children of the village’s faces smeared with dirt as they dashed around playing a game of chase. He could see the old straw thatching on many of the huts was in major need of repair. Most of the structures within the village were barely standing and with few men of the age to do so due to heavy numbers dying in the plague of ten years ago and then a large conscription force being needed some five years past. The place was likely to simply fall into further disrepair. As he strode eyeing the shabby muddy village an idea of profit came to him.

“If I can fix one of these roofs, I can likely get a little extra coin for the rest of my journey and maybe even a place to rest for the night.”

A short distance ahead a young woman was splitting wood for the evenings fire he walked directly to her.

“Young madam may I take this burden from you so that I can inquire of you an audience with your father”.

“My uncle.” she muttered. “Is of no mind to make any decisions here if you have any business with him ask it of me.”

A half-forced smile came across her as she handed him the axe and leaned against the fence of the small stone structure that stood behind her.

She spoke with some level of authority in her face and voice. The young woman’s pale skin had been reddened by the sun, and she had golden hair the same color as the straw that thatched the small shacks of the village. She was slight in size, but village work keeps the body in a strong condition.

As she spoke Dusheen took the axe and began to chop wood for her after a few logs had been split he spoke.

“Well then lass could I fix the roof of your fine cottage?”

“My uncle’s cottage.” she smiled. “Am I that pretty that an elf would come right over split my wood and fix my roof for free oh gods I am truly a blessed woman.” As the words left her mouth her smile grew, and the words came out as a half mock of him knowing that everything comes with a price, especially in the current age.

Dusheen blushed a little but stood up straight axe held in both hands and replied,

“Well, I am on a journey so a small amount of coin would be most helpful and for a fixed roof and some split wood I'm sure your uncle could spare a little for a traveler of the road.”

She smiled wryly.

“Sir we haven’t had money in quite some time.”

She took an apple from a barrel behind her and bit into it, speaking now with a mouth full of apple and with more authority than before.

“If you chop the rest of that wood you can sleep in the stables with my horse you will be safe there.”

He split a few more logs before speaking again to let the blood cool and not to offend the poor young woman. He split the logs and let his mind wander. The young woman watched him work while she ate her apple finally, she finished it and tossed the core over the cottage into the field behind the home. Upon seeing this sudden movement of her body Dusheen could see a fine frame of youth and work.

“This woman is beautiful.” he thought.

After tossing the core of the apple she looked back to him and saw the look upon him.

“What are you staring at? There is plenty wood to chop sir.”

Dusheen fully blushed, sweating equally from embarrassment the sun and the labor of the wood. He was now fully dripping, which only embarrassed him deeper.

He shook his head.

“I can fix your roof in half a day I need no payment just a place to rest and some food and water for the evening.”

He bowed his head in respect, trying his best to mask his blushing and sweating. After a few more logs were split she smiled warmly towards Dusheen. He had split nearly all the logs now and she could not help but appreciate his efforts towards her.

“Fine Fix the roof.”

She took the axe out of his hand and pointed to the woods.

“Should be plenty of wood for the roof and there is plenty straw in the stable.”

Without looking at him now, she took a thick log and busted it in two with a clean stroke. Dusheen stood there for a moment gazing at her.

“She strikes that wood nearly as strong as I do,” he mumbled to himself. “What a lass.”

These words left his mouth as soon as they did.

“What was that?” She glared at him looking straight at him in his eyes now “If you’re going to fix my uncles roof please do so and leave me to my chores it was fine speaking with you.”

Dusheen’s eyes widened for a moment and his blood again rushed through his ears and his heartbeat thumped.

“Madam…”

He bowed his head again and set off for the woods behind the home. It would be a simple matter to find what he needed and once found an even simpler matter to replace the saplings that had been used to make the frame of the roof. He gathered ten fresh saplings chopping them with his short sword. The young woman had been using the axe and he didn’t wish to bother her any further if he could avoid it. She seemed somewhat fierce to him and Dusheen though keen with a sword after over one hundred thirty years of consistent practice was not very keen on the thoughts of fierce and beautiful women these creatures frightened him far more than any fiend or beast he could encounter on the road. After some chopping and cleaning of the wood. He had ten poles that were considerably longer and thicker than the ones that had been there before. He returned to the small hut and began to remove the roof. From the elevated position he could see down into the living space of the occupants. Inside where three small beds of some fur and hay arranged around a small fire pit in the center of the space. Over to one side where some metal tools including some pots, a sword a little longer than his own but in a similar style likely of the same approximate age and a few rakes and shovels.

Then he noticed something moving in the corner. It was a man propped against a wall reaching for a bottle of rum or some like substance in a clear glass container.

“Cask” the voice grumbled

“Casak.”

Slightly louder this time.

“Casaca!”

The figure finally growled quite loudly. Dusheen had not considered the uncle to be simply inside the home. The figure propped himself up a little higher, clearing his voice now screaming as if something were attacking him.

“Casaca…Ca Casaca where are you?”

The man was now shouting and groaning this word maybe a name. Who could say for sure what words this drunk man was searching for.

“Poor old fool probably had a rough go in his life and has takin to drink.” thought Dusheen.

A moment later the woman appeared in the doorway not rushing but showing that she was indeed responding to his calls.

“What is it uncle? What are you possibly groaning on about now?”

She marched into the cottage as she spoke.

“Casaca you rotten witch get me more wine from the stable!” the uncle spoke through clenched jaws.

The young woman snatched the glass bottle and when she did the uncle reached out and grabbed her arm with a vice like grip. She gave a slight yelp and yanked her arm from his clutching hand.

“This wine will kill you uncle and not a moment too soon I say.”

She spoke loud enough that Dusheen’s eyes widened.

She took the bottle and left for the stable to refill it. Dusheen continued his work. The man’s head swung near his chest from side to side until he heard the movement above him and looked up for a moment. Dusheen smiled and gave a slight nod to the man.

“Great an elf on the roof…”

The man grunted and belched loudly before his eyes rolled into his head and his chin drooped down resting on his large chest with a line of drool or left-over rum draining from the corner of his mouth.

Dusheen shook his head and labored on. He would go back into the woods, but the day passed quickly.

By the time the sun was starting to set he had finished the roof. The sky was lit with green and pink rays on the few clouds remaining in the sky.

“Ha that’s the best roof in this whole village.” he said.

An old man picking some grains across the pathway walked to Dusheen. The man had an old grey tunic and brown vest with a kind demeanor.

“How did they afford such a thing? How much will you cost to fix my roof tomorrow?” The man said.

Dusheen shot a killing glance at the man and spoke haughtily.

“I am no repairman I have business in Valerinth. I have no time for anymore roofs here.”

The man gave a chuckle as he shook his head and walked back to his plants.

“Well, if you ever want to make some coin this village is in need of a good repairmen to fix this whole place.” jesting at Dusheen.

He then went back to tending the grains. Dusheen stood a few more moments resting and daydreaming as he would often daydream during this time of his life. He saw Casaca. He had heard the uncle call her returning from the stables she had been out grooming her horse and feeding him for the evening.

He walked over to her. With triumph on his face and eyes wide.

“Well, what do you think of the roof?”

She glanced at the roof.

“We now have the nicest roof in the whole village maybe the whole realm.” She said. “Stew will be ready soon your welcome to sleep in the stable tonight but please be gone in the morning as I have chores, and we can’t afford to take on another mouth to feed.”

She said this while walking quickly into the house. Dusheen was somewhat stunned by her words and the way she dismissed his work he felt the blood flow into his ears once again.

He stopped just outside the entrance and stood there for a few moments. He looked up at the roof, it was well done compared to the rest in the village, so he had done what was asked of him.

He thought. “If I just walk on to Valerinth now I’ll be there by morning and can see my friend Briunstun even sooner.”

His stomach groaned and gurgled loudly. He was very hungry and a full night’s walk would leave him in a very poor condition. He sighed, shrugged and walked through the entrance.

The hut was well lit with a few candles, a lantern hanging near the entrance and the small fire in the middle sent an orange glow in every direction and cast everything around the outer edges of the cottage into a black shadow. The uncle he had scene before was now sitting close to the fire poking it with an iron rod from time to time while Casaca stirred a large pot. He could smell the stew, it had a hardy scent of meat and cabbage, his stomach growled once again. He stood in the entrance silently.

“Take a seat please young man.” grunted the elderly man.

The man spoke in a respectful and much more sober tone than he had heard him speak earlier to Casaca.

Dusheen sat down on the bed of hay that had not been occupied. He sat silently by the fire. The old man took three logs from a stack nearby and placed them in the fire. Casaca stirred the stew which now filled the cottage with a delicious aroma. Casaca hummed quietly to herself and the three enjoyed a restful pleasant moment together.

After some time had passed the man spoke in a friendly gruff voice of considerable age and experience.

“Well, boy tell us your name. What elf comes from Valerinth to fix the house of an old drunk.”

“I’m heading to Valerinth from the city just past the wood on the other end of the village I intend to purchase a new sword there. I’ll be training…”

Dusheen pointed in the direction of the city as he spoke.

“Oh, that dreadful town on the other side of the wood.” said Casaca now with more concern in her voice than he had heard from her all day.

She shuddered as she began to ladle the contents of the pot into bowls.

“Yes, that’s where I am from.”

He carefully handed a bowl of stew to the uncle who took it and gave the slightest nod. He began to stir the stew with a wooden spoon.

“it’s really not that bad… well since that plague some years ago it has been well… and since the conscription for Valerinth….”

Dusheen shook his head of the thought of his town and what it had become in recent years. He took the bowl Casaca ladled for him. He dipped the spoon in and scooped a large chunk of meat and some of the fragrant broth. It was pork and cabbage with chunks of apple all boiled down to a perfect blend. The meat from being soaked in the stew at just the right time burst with juice and flavor as he chewed. He thought about how thankful he was that he had not just walked down the road and to be instead having a relaxing and delicious meal.

“This is a fine stew!” he exclaimed.

He nodded enthusiastically while still chewing a mouthful of meat.

“Could use some more meat but it is tasty. What’s your name and what do you do? Why would an elf want to fix my roof?” he said impatiently.

“Uncle!?” snapped Casaca.

The uncle shrugged and slurped from the spoon.
Dusheen smiled and bowed his head. He understood that these people probably rarely had company and that this was a particularly strange time for a traveler with the recent series of disappearances.

He spoke quietly and Cooley while he brought the spoon to his lips and sipped the broth.

“I am Dusheen.”

Casaca was intrigued by the look on her uncle’s face. Casaca had never heard this name before, but her uncle had many times.

“Dusheen? The teacher of Jarl Julius Groolstock? The famous sell sword?”

The uncle chuckled skeptically.

“Ha you?”

The uncle sat straight and held his posture as high and strong as he could muster. “Dusheen was the tallest elf I’d ever seen. I met him once when I was ten years old. Your barely as tall as I am.”

Casaca heard all this and hid her curiosity. She gazed into the fire in silence. Dusheen took a deep look at the man without changing his own expression. He could not remember him for the man was now easily over fifty years old. He looked away from the man and towards the fire. The old man still stared at Dusheen. He tilted his head to the side and sat his bowl down squinting his eyes. The old man leaned over and grabbed his clear bottle that he would constantly sip of. He took a long swallow out of the bottle.

“Dusheen had a sword at all times, and he trained for a hundred years, every day they say.” His tone softened as soon as he took another smaller sip. “You know I one time … when I was a boy only ten years old, I saw him … Dusheen… he was the largest elf I had ever seen. He had the most magnificent armor and sword…black steel plate.”

The man took another large drink from the bottle. Casacas uncle looked towards the fire and leaned back against the wall while he continued to sip from time to time. His eyes grew heavier and his face softer with each sip.

Dusheen’s mind had drifted into thought gazing into the fire. He thought about his hair long to his shoulders and quite unkempt and tangled since he never brushed it. He thought then of his pants made of deer skins with several patches they had been gifted to him by the Jarls daughter Julia for his birthday two years since. While fine garments when received they now had a few patches and the bottoms near the feet were worn and badly frayed. He thought of his vest which was a dark colored bore skin vest in decent condition except a patch on one side where he had torn it while fishing. His tunic was an old brown thing that he had received at a point he could not remember. His knapsack was in excellent condition made of fine leather from Valerinth. The Jarl had given it to him about three years ago as a thanks for some errand he had run. He wore shoes he had made of deerskin. They were of high quality but were very dirty and if the ground were moist in any way, they became soggy. His sword was six years old, a fine blade kept very sharp that he always kept at his side. Dusheen had still kept the sword at his side at all times. The sword when he received it was a fine piece of steel. It had a curved blade on one side and a slightly weighted end for cleaving. Though the blade now had much were on it Dusheen kept it razor sharp and oiled. However, he mostly used it as a cutting tool more than a weapon. He gazed into the fire deep in thought. He pondered the armor he had worn throughout the years when he had taught the jarl. It was magnificent black plate armor that shined like oil in the sun.

Casaca spoke plainly “Sir I must tend to my uncle the stable is around back you will see my horse Arrow he is friendly.”

Dusheen was very tired. He did not know how long he had stared into the flames. When the woman spoke, he started slightly.

“Yes ma’am.” He murmured.

Mechanically he stood and gathered his bag and sword then headed out towards the stable.

The stable had its back to the house. It was a shabby but sturdy structure with a single large horse tied to a post on the far side with a long rope. The horse was white with a black mane that led to a small triangular pattern that ended just before his eyes. Upon turning the corner, he noticed a bed made for him. The bed was made with extreme care. It had a large deer skin with hay placed on top of that with another two skins over the hay. A fine wool blanket was placed neatly on top of the bed. Upon noticing the care put into the making of the bed Dusheen smiled.

“Ha what a day I have had.”

He sighed and sat down near the bed.

He looked cautiously toward the horse which paid him no attention. He opened his bag and pulled out a small pipe and a tin with some coals he had gathered while inside he used the coals to make a small fire. Right beside the bed where some sticks ranging in size which were stacked earlier by Casaca.

He puffed his pipe and pondered upon the journey he would be continuing in the morning. If all went well, he should be in Valerinth by midday with all the women and wine he could think of. His friend and student Briunstun was a man of high status. He pondered on how truly proud of Briunstun he was. He had taught him to fight since he was fifteen years of age. Now a man of forty-five commanding hundreds of men in huge battles with the fate of the city of Valerinth at stake and his own fighting prowess being truly legendary. Briunstun had won over one hundred single combat duals and lost only one a few years ago against another commander of Valerinth in a dispute over supplies and provisions for their respective groups of men. Since then, he had won three more duals. These formal duals rarely resulted in death with the two combatants mostly aiming to disarm or disable their opponents rather than outright kill them. However, if someone were to die in the participation of these types of duals no punishment usually occurred as long as witnesses testified it was a fair fight.

The sounds of footsteps coming from the cottage and quickly approached his position. He puffed the pipe as the footsteps grew closer and closer. He was facing the corner sitting cross-legged on the ground directly between the fire and the bed Casaca had made for him earlier. It was a calm warm night and every star in the sky was visible with no moon. As the steps came closer, he could hear a slight hesitation in pace as they approached. He puffed his pipe once more. A small figure emerged from around the corner. It was Casaca holding another dear skin blanket. She slowly walked past him to the bed. Dusheen watched her and sat the pipe down beside the fire.

“I thought you might want another blanket.”

She spoke softly. It was a tone he had heard many times from women but not yet from Casaca. Dusheen tilted himself to the side and stared at her. She looked even more beautiful in the firelight than he had thought when he was staring at her earlier in the day.

Casaca sat down on the bed she had made and gazed at Dusheen intensely. Dusheen moved in closer to her and brushed her hair from her face. Casaca lay on the bed and pulled Dusheen to her breathing in his scent as he began to kiss her neck.

Dusheen’s eyes sprang open. He was in an unfamiliar place, his hand flashed to his hip for his sword. Feeling it not immediately he leapt to his feet.

“Ahh the shabby stable of Casaca and her uncle.”

He spotted his sword in an instant on the ground at his feet and he snatched it quickly. It was still dark with the sun’s rays just beginning to change the colors on the horizon. Casaca was gone.

“Ha what a wonderful woman.”

The elf whistled a light morning tune to himself. He took three gold coins from his bag and placed them on the bed. This much gold would surely pay for anything he owed these fine people and would not be an amount that could offend them by making them feel any less than himself.

“Well, I have business in Valerinth.” He said.

He spoke warmly to the horse and single chicken that clucked nearby on a clump of hay.

He gathered his sword and bag, put on his vest and headed out. He strode down the trail that led out of the village. He was in the highest possible spirits

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