{FOV} Chapter 1 - Nila - Roots

The cave was dark, cold, and wet. As far as most caves go, it wasn't out of the ordinary. Nila was trotting through it, with her handler on her back. Britta, a smaller than normal Tomtar, dug her hands into Nila's ruff, hoping for some comfort.

It was cold outside too - biting winds that howled and screamed at night, cutting their way through and stealing any warmth anyone managed to achieve. They had both seen the tree together as rider and rukaan, leaves wilting and twirling to the ground, graceful corpses of ballerinas. Yggdrasil was dying, life being sucked out of it from some source they could not identify. It had been difficult to see the World Tree sickened and in pain, bark peeling as they trotted past it.

But now they were on the search for a solution, a cure. Britta’s tail flicked through the air anxiously as Nila took careful steps. The ground was pebbled and rough, slick with drippings from the stalactites overhead. They were on a quest to find information, anything really, that might help the tree. Britta and Nila had agreed to go underground, to those closest to the roots - to find a dwarf. There might be an infection in the earthy, gritty tunnels that was causing the tree to wither, and now they were deep in the tunnels.

There were small lanterns lighting the way along a path that was packed solid by the boots and hooves of dwarves and rukaan alike, and while they had been traveling for what seemed like days, the pair never reached a branch or split in the semi-dark of the mineshafts. Soon, though, they heard a great roar of laughter coming from further down the tunnel.

Nile picked her way over the rocks as carefully as she could - it was still bumpy in areas - and Britta held on tight, hoping they would find someone to help. She had brought a bag full of ores, jewels, precious jewelry, and hoped it would be enough to buy over the stout-hearted dwarves. The lights became more frequent as they kept along the path, until the ceiling broadened and opened up, revealing a great dining hall.

Tables lined the walls of the cavernous room, spreading up and out like mushrooms growing from a tree. The ones on the floor ringed a central table piled with heaps of food - vegetables, fruits, steaming piles of meat. Dwarves sat all around, smeared with dust and grit and dirt from their day’s work. They laughed and chattered, passing secrets through motions of whispers, until the hall fell silent upon the rukaan and rider’s entrance.

The sooty black deer and little white-haired humanoid stood together, afraid at what the dwarves were going to say or do. In the end, they did nothing, simply turned to who they apparently saw as their leader, the dwarf stepping down from her seat and sighing at a meal interrupted. She walked to Nila and Britta, crossing her arms as she reached them. “Hello. You can call me Gershwin. Why’re you here?” Her voice was as rough as the stone around her, carrying a polished snark to it like the gems hanging from braids in her dark hair. Britta swallowed deeply, nerves jangling around Gershwin.

“Have you noticed the seasons haven’t changed?” Internally, she winced. Not a very strong case to start with. The older dwarf nodded, motioning for Britta to continue. She climbed down from Nila, petting her head as she continued on. “We - Nila and I - are here to see if you knew anything about the causes of it.” Gershwin raised an eyebrow and the corners of her mouth turned down in a frown. “Not! Not that we’re blaming you, of course,” the tomtar had to take a deep breath to comfort herself. “We were just thinking that the disease may be coming from the roots, which are in your lands. We would like to request to see them, to make sure that they’re okay.”

Gershwin seemed to soften just a bit at this. “Why should I show you into my tunnels? Give away my information?” Britta fumbled for the saddlebags she had with her just for this purpose, and drew out a forged medallion, embedded with rubies and sapphires.

“Maybe this?” She held it out, and Gershwin swiftly took it, cradling the bauble and inspecting it. With a nod and a beckoning hand, her approval had been earned, and Britta and Nila began to follow her down the winding corridors of the underground. Gershwin talked all the way to the roots, narrating through the tunnels about their history.

“Many dwarves of my line have excavated the hallowed halls of our home,” and here she paused, turning to Nila and Britta, at a door covered in entangled roots. They interlocked intricately, and only shriveled back at Gershwin’s touch. “But I am the only one who has ever seen the Roots.”

Tangled in a large ball, hollowed out within this sphere of earth, there were a few roots. As large as Nila, as thick as Gershwin’s arm, they snaked through the dirt like withered worms. The rukaan and rider wandered through the spacious room, Britta gently ghosting her fingers over the root’s bark, Nila sniffing them.

Immediately the tomtar pulled out a notebook and began scribbling in it, murmuring as she paced around the root ball. Nila followed, and huffed if she found something interesting, stamping a hoof as a signal.

Their investigation done, ended at the dead-end tunnels, the two turned to the dwarf who had helped them. "Thank you," Britta started, glancing down at her journal. "I know this will help but…do you have any other clues? Advice?"

Gershwin stepped from side to side, uncomfortable under the pair's gazes. "You two are intrepid, I'll give you that." She sighed. "You need to somehow find the Winter Doe, and that's all I know."

Britta and Nila exchanged a look, and the tiny rider turned back to the dwarf. "Thank you again, Gershwin." With a nod, the duo left the caves, and the halls of the dwarves.