“Hum, hum, ’tis vurra strange talk, though in truth—why, this makes me think ye maun be o’ the Chaos forces yerselves.”
“What do you mean?” asked Holger respectfully. “I’m ignorant of your affairs here. Could you explain?”
He let the dwarf growl on for a long time without learning much. Hugi wasn’t very bright, and a backwoodsman as well. Holger got the idea that a perpetual struggle went on between primeval forces of Law and Chaos. No, not forces exactly. Modes of existence? A terrestrial reflection of the spiritual conflict between heaven and hell? In any case, humans were the chief agents on earth of Law, though most of them were so only unconsciously and some, witches and warlocks and evildoers, had sold out to Chaos. A few nonhuman beings also stood for Law. Ranged against them was almost the whole Middle World, which seemed to include realms like Faerie, Trollheim, and the Giants—an actual creation of Chaos. Wars among men, such as the long-drawn struggle between the Saracens and the Holy Empire, aided Chaos; under Law all men would live in peace and order and that liberty which only Law could give meaning. But this was so alien to the Middle Worlders that, they were forever working to prevent it and to extend their own shadowy dominion.
The whole thing seemed so vague that Holger switched the discussion to practical politics. Hugi wasn’t much help there either. Holger gathered that the lands of men, where Law was predominant, lay to the west. They were divided into the Holy Empire of the Christians, the Saracen countries southward, and various lesser kingdoms. Faerie, the part of the Middle World closest to here, lay not far east. This immediate section was a disputed borderland where anything might happen.
“In olden time,” said Hugi, “richt after the Fall, nigh everything were Chaos, see ye. But step by step ’tis been driven back. The longest step was when the Saviour lived on earth, for then naught o’ darkness could stand and great Pan himself died. But noo ’tis said Chaos has rallied and mak’s ready to strike back. I dinna know.”
Hm. There was no immediate chance to separate fact from fancy: But this world paralleled Holger’s own in so many ways that some connection must exist. Had fleeting contact been made from time to time, castaways like himself who had returned with stories that became the stuff of legend? Had the creatures of myth a real existence here? Remembering some of them, Holger hoped not. He didn’t especially care to meet a fire-breathing dragon or a three-headed giant, interesting as they might be from a zoological standpoint.
“Oh, by the bye,” said Hugi, “ye’ll have to leave yer crucifix, if ye bear one, and yer iron at the gates. Nor may ye speak holy words inside. The Faerie folk canna stand against sic, but if ye use ’em there, they’ll find ways to send ye ill luck.”
Holger wondered what the local status of an agnostic was. He had, inevitably, been brought up a Lutheran, but hadn’t been inside a church for years. If this thing must happen to somebody, why couldn’t it have been a good Catholic?
Hugi talked on. And on. And on. Holger tried to pay friendly attention, without overdoing the act. They got to telling stories. He dug out every off-color joke he could remember. Hugi whooped.
They had stopped by a moss-banked stream for lunch when the dwarf abruptly leaned forward and put a hand on Holger’s arm. “Sir Knicht,” he said, looking at the ground, “I’d fain do ye a guid turn, if ye wish.”
Holger kept himself steady with an effort. “I could use one, thanks.”
“I dinna know wha’ the best coorse be for ye. Mayhap ’tis to seek Faerie e’en as the witch said, mayhap ’tis to turn tail richt noo. Nor have I any way to find oot. But I ken ane i’ the woods, a friend to all its dwellers, who’d know any news abroad in the land and could belike gi’ ye a rede.”
“If I could see him, that would be a… a big help, Hugi.”
“’Tis no a him, ’tis a her. I’d no tak’ any other knicht thither, for they’re a lustful sort and she likes ’em not. But ye… well… I canna be an evil guide to ye.”