Talon cawed out, and leapt into the air. After circling the cavern once, he landed on Loudin’s head, and cooed. An almost visible blanket of relief lifted from them all.
“I think we should make up some sort of code to talk with Hyden through Talon,” Mikahl said, while giving the hawkling a peculiar look. “Hyden, have Talon peck Loudin’s head twice, if you agree.”
Talon cocked his head to the side for a moment, and then leaned over, and sharply pecked the old hunter’s forehead twice. Before Loudin could react, Talon flew to the other side of the fire, landed near Mikahl, and bobbed his head up and down with glee. Mikahl and Vaegon burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. Loudin scowled at them, and rubbed the red spot on his forehead briskly. Hyden, like Mikahl, had a great sense of humor.
The giant, Borg, stood just over fourteen feet tall. He wasn’t even close to being the tallest of his race. The club he carried – he called it a staff – was made out of the trunk of an old pine tree, whose resin like sap had been hardened in the Cauldron at Afdeon. The base of it was as big around as Hyden’s waist, and so were the giant’s upper arms. Borg’s hair was long, dark, and streaked with silvery gray, as was the thick beard, which trailed down his chest. His pants, and knee length vest coat, were a patchwork of thick furred animal skins. The long sleeved shirt he wore underneath was made from a dark and well tanned elk’s hide. His boots looked to be made of a thicker sort of pelt. The fur was as white as the snow he was standing in. Mounted on the bridge of each foot, was a toothy skull that matched the one mounted on his belt buckle. What the giant’s hair, mustache, and beard didn’t cover of his face, the long bushy eyebrows did. Even though his eyes were the size of plums, they seemed hidden underneath them. The huge slab of Borg’s forehead was the most prominent, and the most exposed of his features.
Hyden saw a glint of curiosity sparkle from the depths of Borg’s sockets, as the approaching giant mused over his sudden burst of laughter. Hyden didn’t think he could explain the long distance jest that had just played out on Loudin’s skull, so he did his best to suppress his mirth.
Borg was more than a little intimidating, even to one who had met him before. Hyden wanted to be taken seriously by the Southern Guardian, because he was sure that Mikahl’s business with King Aldar was important, as well as urgent. He put on a face, similar to the ones he’d seen his father and grandfather use when dealing with the giants: stern and serious. He then searched his memory of Berda’s tales for a hint of the proper etiquette and greeting to use in the situation.
Confident now that he wouldn’t make a fool of himself, Hyden started through the ice and snow to greet Borg. He caught himself fighting back a grin as he went. He hadn’t been able to see Loudin’s expression when he told Talon to peck his head, but he imagined it was a sight to see. His grin faded, when the deep creases of concern splitting Borg’s huge forehead became clear through the swirling snow. It was an intense look, a look that cut far deeper into Hyden than the icy blast of wind that preceded the giant.
“What business would cause you to guide two kingdom men, and an elf, into these lands, son of Harrap?” Borg asked harshly.
Hyden couldn’t believe that the giant recognized him as his father’s son, but he had.
Obviously the giant wouldn’t know which son he was, so he clarified the matter.
“I am Hyden, eldest son of Harrap,” Hyden said. “One of the kingdom men, a tattooed hunter called Loudin, says he knows you. He has brought something of value he thinks you will want to barter for.”
Hyden paused to gauge Borg’s reaction. He hoped the giant actually knew Loudin and remembered him if he did. The giant’s nod assured him that it was so.
“The other kingdom man has urgent messages for King Aldar. He carries those and a sword that –” He let his voice trail off there. He wasn’t sure how much information he should divulge. He didn’t want to mislead Borg, nor did he want to betray Mikahl’s trust. He found that he suddenly wished he hadn’t mentioned the sword at all.
Borg was silent for a long moment. He looked haggard, and worried over serious matters beyond the issue before him. Hyden noticed that there were dark stains all around the base of the giant’s big staff. Some were old, and a brownish black in color, but some were slick and glossy red. A patch of yellow could be seen where a piece of the wood had been chipped or torn away recently.
“What about the elf?” Borg finally asked.
“The elf,” Hyden searched for an explanation that made sense, but couldn’t come up with one. He ended up saying the first thing that came to his mind, which was also the least believable of any answer he could have given. “Vaegon is my friend.”