Call of the Abyss [Book 2 Complete]

Threindil sighed heavily as he pushed his long, sandy-blonde hair out of his face. It spilled down the sides and over his long, pointed ears no matter how much he pushed it back. He should probably tie it up with some string, but it was already a disaster—no sense worrying about it now.

He stooped down and half-walked, half-crawled through what was little more than a crack in the wall. The rugged stone clawed and scraped at his tunic as he slid through, and dust kept falling into his eyes. He stumbled out of the crack into a narrow alleyway that ended in a dead end with a small shack at the back.

Durthangrim was a dwarven city hewn into the side of an enormous cliff. An ancient city of stone, it was filled with cracks and crevices like this—places both the city and time had forgotten. Of course, crawling into those forgotten corners was ill-advised, since an underground city was always subject to stability concerns—especially the parts that hadn't seen maintenance in…however long.

He approached the shelter, with its desiccated wood and crumbling façade, and sighed as he slid his back down the alley's wall until he was seated next to the front door.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" he asked in the direction of the building.

"...don't wanna," a small voice called from inside. Threindil knew she was there, of course. She probably thought all her little hidey holes were her secrets alone, but he knew every single one of them. Unfortunately, nearly all of them had access issues that made them difficult for him to get to.

"I already heard the story from Dunstraag's family. I want to hear your side of it. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, though. We could talk about how unwise it is to be crawling into cracks and crevices that haven't been maintained instead, if you want," he said with a wry smile.

She'd heard that lecture several times now, so he suspected she'd do quite a bit to avoid hearing it again.

Out of the wreckage crawled a young girl with brunette hair all dusty and tangled. She had vibrant brown eyes that almost looked red when the light hit them just right. She was only eight, so crawling through the detritus of the ruined shack was no trouble for her small body.

That's what she would tell you, anyway. The scrapes and bruises on her little limbs suggested otherwise.

She had freckles across her face and a light tan, despite the underground nature of the city. She loved playing outside as much as crawling through the city's various nooks and crannies. As she sidled up next to him, Threindil brushed some of the debris from her hair. She settled against the wall beside him and crossed her arms—pouting.

"Dunstraag said I'd never be a good adventurer," she said, almost in a whisper.

"Did he? Why did he say that?" he asked patiently.

"We were talking about what kind of adventurers we wanted to be when we grew up. I said I wanted to be strong and carry a big ax. He said I couldn't do it 'cause humans don't have the Strength and Constitution for adventuring with an ax," she spat, clearly still miffed about it.

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"I see. Then what happened?" he asked gently.

"...then, I thought I would show him how strong I am…" she muttered.

"...and you picked him up and threw him down on top of one of the tables? This happened during your lunch break, yes?" Threindil asked, trying to hold back a smile. The image of an eight-year-old hurling another child onto a table was rather amusing.

"Yes. A few of us were eating and talking," she said, pointedly not looking at him.

"Hmm…well, I expect he learned a pretty valuable lesson already, so now it's your turn," he said, dropping a line to reel her interest in.

"What lesson did he learn?" she asked, finally looking up at him.

"He learned that you insult others at your own risk and peril," he chuckled. "That said, you shouldn't have thrown him. You know that, right?"

"Why not? He deserved it," she grumbled, looking back down at the ground.

"Maybe, but we don't use violence unless we have no other choice. Violence is a fire that consumes. It doesn't build—just destroys. Remember how you and your friend Chaco met?"

"Yeah. She said she didn't like my hair," she groused.

"That's right, and you two worked past your differences and are very close now, yes? Imagine what would have happened if you'd just hit her when she said that. You wouldn't be friends now, would you?

"Fire burns. We don't use it unless we have no other option, because it leaves nothing behind—no bridges for building friendship in the future, no remnant of whatever relationship you already had, and no ground to stand on with others who've seen the fires you set," he said.

"Is Dunstraag not going to be my friend anymore?" she asked, looking back up at him with glistening eyes.

"I don't know. It's up to him. All you can do is apologize and hope he accepts it. He'd be justified either way," he said, patting the top of her dusty head.

She looked back down at the floor, chewing on her bottom lip. Threindil chuckled.

"I know. Apologizing is really hard. Even adults have trouble with it. It's a multistep process. You have to recognize you've done wrong, accept and own up to it, and then apologize for it. It's a very vulnerable moment that you have to openly display to the person you're apologizing to. It takes a great deal of strength and courage.

"But you know what? All the greatest people out there—the greatest heroes in the stories, the greatest adventurers—they all had to learn to own up to their mistakes and apologize for them. You'll be stronger for it, not weaker," he said as he rubbed her back (secretly dusting her clothes off as well as comforting her).

"...It'll make me stronger?" she asked, still chewing her lip.

"Definitely. Strength is not just found in the body, Cassandra. It's in the mind as well. A strong body is wasted without a strong mind to back it up," he concluded.

They sat in silence for a few minutes while she digested his words. He continued fussing over the dust, dirt, and debris in her hair and clothes all the while. Eventually, she looked back up at him.

"Will you come with me? To apologize?" she asked.

"Of course, Cassie. I'll come with you whenever and wherever you need me," he said firmly, rising to his feet and offering his hand.

"Thanks, Papa," she said as she took his hand and rose as well.

They both crawled back through the crack in the wall—one easier than the other—and headed back to apologize and (hopefully) learn a valuable lesson.