“This is her big day,” said my mother soothingly. “You want her to look well. All her suitors will be there.”
“Bah!” Father grumbled. “She’s far too young to be thinking of such things.”
“Perhaps. But what catches the eye now catches the head later,” said my mother, quoting a dwarven proverb.
“Hunh!” My father snorted.
But, when he caught sight of me, his stomach puffed out with pride, and he said nothing more about my being late.
Father, I miss you so! Oh, how hard it is! How hard.
We left our house that is more like a cave bored straight into the mountain. All our homes and businesses are built inside the mountain, unlike human and elven structures that are built on the mountain slopes. It took me a long time to get used to living in the Elmas coral castle that seemed, in my mind, to cling precariously to the rock. I had dreams about its tumbling down the mountainside, carrying me with it!
The morning was beautiful. The rays of the seasun shimmered up through the waves. The sparse clouds that floated over the warren caught the sun’s glow. My family joined the throngs of dwarves walking down the steeply sloping path to the shore of the Goodsea. Our neighbors called out to my father, more than a few coming up to slap him on his broad stomach— a typical dwarven form of greeting—and invite him to join them in the tavern after the ceremony.
My father slapped stomachs in return, and we continued down the mountainside. When on land, the Gargan travel everywhere on their own two feet. Carts are meant to haul potatoes, not people. And although we dwarves have grown accustomed to the sight of elves riding around in carriages and humans using beasts to bear their burdens, most Gargans consider such laziness to be a symbol of the weakness inherent in the other two races.
The only vehicle we dwarves use are our famous submersibles—ships designed to sail the Goodsea. Such ships—the dwarves’ pride—were developed out of necessity since we have an unfortunate tendency to sink like stones in the water. The dwarf has not been born who can swim.
We Gargans are such clever shipbuilders that the Phondrans and the Elmas, who once built ships of their own, ceased to do so and came to rely solely on our craft. Now, with the help of financing from the humans and elves, we had constructed our masterpiece—a fleet of sun-chasers, enough submersibles to carry the populations of three seamoons.
“It’s been generations since we have been called on to build the sun-chasers,” stated my father. We had paused a moment to look proudly down from the steeply slanting roadway to the harbor at sea level, far below. “And never a fleet this big, designed to carry so many. This is a historic occasion, one that will be long remembered.”
“And such an honor for Grundle,” said my mother, smiling at me.
I returned my mother’s smile, but said nothing. We dwarves are not noted for our sense of humor, but I am considered serious-minded and sober even for a dwarf and my thoughts today were concentrated on my duties. I have an extremely practical nature, not a shred of sentimentality or romance (as Sabia used to comment sadly).
“I wish your friends were here to see you today,” my mother added. “We invited them, but, of course, they are extremely busy among their own people, preparing for the Sun Chase.”
“Yes, Mother,” I agreed. “It would have been nice if they could have come.”
I would not alter dwarven life-style for the trapping of the seasun, but I could not help envying the respect accorded Alake by the Phondrans or the love and reverence shown Sabia by the Elmas. Among my people I am, most of the time, just another dwarf maiden. I comforted myself with the knowledge that I would be able to tell my friends all about it and (I must be honest) with the knowledge that neither would have a lock of her hair on the bow of a sun-chaser!
We reached the harbor, where the gigantic submersibles floated at anchor. Now that I was near them, I was overawed by the immensity of the ships, the amount of work that had gone into creating them.