A Knocker’s Pancake

“I’m hungry.” I complain, after what has felt like an eternity.

    Within this dimly lit cell, I can’t even tell if night has already fallen. For how long do they plan to keep us here? What even did I do? Breathed too loudly?

    Sure the Hero is far more welcomed when, after defeating Ard Ramalia’s emissary, he comes to Gnog Fontalamh. The rumour of his achievement allows him at least to roam freely through the Knocker’s kingdom.

“Do you know how long it’s been?” I ask Tyffeon.

“Do you think I spend my time counting the seconds or something?” He raises an eyebrow, glancing then at my pendant. “Shouldn’t you know better, since you have a pocket watch?”

“Ohh…” I place a hand over the pendant before even realising it. “That’s not really one, it just… looks like.”

“What a useless trinket.” He frowns. “Who was it that offered you this to make you keep such a thing?”

“That isn’t a vulgar trinket, mind you. And yes, a frien…” I trail off. “Someone important gifted it to me. It was for my birthday, when we were children. That’s all I have left from him.”

    For a moment, Tyffeon seems about to say something, but holds back.

“You do as well have such things, don’t you?” I add, frowning back.

“Well…” He places his hand against the hilt of his sword. “I do. But at least I received something useful. This sword, I got it before-”

“See what we’ve got there.” A thick voice cuts off Tyffeon, coming from the corridor. “If someone had told me that our reunion would occur in this kind of setting!”

    We all turn our gazes towards the Knocker who now stares at us behind the bars. The moment I see him, I barely hold back a smile of sheer fangirlism.

    His eyes are silver, just like his studded helmet. A braid is visible among the thick strands of his night blue beard. Over his shoulder, a large scarf wrapped down his waist, matching the cobalt blue of his skirt. As all men among his folk usually do, he wears a pouch. A brown one pinned with a silver accessory representing some sort of wild beast.

“Yohh! How are you doing, son?”

    And, saying these words, his silver eyes focus on the elven silhouette seated on one of the rigid planks, fixed by chains to the wall.

    Tyffeon, mildly surprised, observes him for a while. Then, closing his eyes, a smile appears over his features.

“You’ve taken your time.” He chuckles, the guardian approaching meanwhile our cell. Keys clinking as the dwarf reaches for the bunch at his waist.

***

    As we leave the corridor, our rescuer leads us through the vast cave where the habitations we caught a glimpse of from the cabin are located. The stone walls are barely the height of a dwarf, the roof – made of some sort of dried plants – being instead far higher.

“I’m grateful that you helped us to get out of there,” I tell the Knocker, “but, umm, like, is it okay? Won’t Chief Gobha go yapping when he learns about it?”

    Taking a glance at me, the Knocker runs his fingers through his thick beard, as if giving the question serious consideration. What, honestly, is enough to keep my worries alive.

“Oughta be okay. I vouched for your group, thus I’ll just have to keep an eye on you.”

“But… What have we done to anger your ruler?” Timoria asks, walking by my side.

    I glance at her just to make sure that Awa has not somehow escaped her grasp.

“Mmm…” The Knocker muses. “…who knows. Don’t think too much about it. He would’ve probably come to free you after a few weeks or months.”

“Weeks or months?!” I exclaim.

    Our steps lead us further away from the main part of the village, to a house closer to the entrance of the galleries leading to the lower levels. From there, the knock knock becomes louder, like rain constantly pouring down.

“It isn’t that long, is it?” The dwarf genuinely blinks at me.

    Reaching his house, he opens the door. He opens it just turning the knob. There’s not even a key.

“In any case, you’re all now my guests. Come inside!”

    If I need to lean forward so I can pass the door, the inside is thankfully at a convenient size. I ain’t breaking my back today!

“Ahh, you may not know of my name.” The Knocker places his hand over his heart. “I go by Beluacor.”

“I am Amako!”

“Timoria.” She adds with a gentle smile, seeming already at ease with our host.

    As if on cue, my stomach chooses the same moment to betray me in the most awful manner, growling.

    Beluacor nods, hands on hips.

“And you’re hungry.”

“Ahahaha….” I run my hand over the back of my head, embarrassed.

    While Beluacor walks past us to the kitchen, I glance at Tyffeon. He hasn’t spoken much, seeming kind of nostalgic. He gazes here and there, as if surprised to recognise this place just the same as the one he left decades and decades ago.

“So Beluacor is your father? You don’t exactly look like him.” I tease, my hands clasped behind my back.

“We’re not blood related, but he raised me since I can remember.”

“Heeeeeh. You didn’t tell me that you grew up in another kingdom than Tír-nan-cnocc.”

    Tyffeon glances at me, taking then a few steps through the room. He considers a collection of small mineral carvings on a shelf, representing all different kinds of magical creatures. From slimes to chimeras, and even what resembles a unicorn.

“You kept all of these?”

“You bet I did.” Beluacor answers him, cracking eggs into a large bowl. “Why would I have had the idea of throwing away the great crafts you did for me?”

“Hmpf.” Tyffeon briefly glances at me. “I told you though, that my parents went to another kingdom before my birth. This way, they could hide the exact day from the Daoine Sidhes. Toll Dubh is the village they chose to stop at.”

    While he speaks, he takes hold of one of the precious stone carvings, observing it attentively. Despite being small elements, its teeth have been made sharp enough.

“Unfortunately, a few months after my birth, they got to an unsafe level of the dungeon and were attacked by a monster. My fath- I mean, Beluacor came in time to save me, and he decided to keep me with him.”

“That’s so sad…” Timoria notes, not having missed a beat of the story.

“You’re lucky to have such a caring father, though!” I note.

    Meanwhile, Beluacor sets the table, placing there four glasses of hot milk powdered with cinnamon. And soon, he turns to us.

“There, come and sit down. A meal should not be spoiled by any sad story. Let’s rather ask the right questions.”

    He observes us in turn as we take a seat.

“Tyffeon, which of these maidens is your wife?” He takes another glance at Timoria and me. “Unless… Both?”

    Oh my, straight to the beef…

    Tyffeon is the first to react, almost choking on his hot milk. While the wild cough affecting this poor soul prevents him from answering right away, Timoria’s cheeks take on a wild tint of pink. If you ask me, it suits her well.

    As for me, well. I keep sipping my flavoured milk peacefully, observing the scene unfolding before my eyes. After days spent on the road, drinking a hot beverage like this is truly heartwarming.

“Father!!” Tyffeon seems to recover the ability to talk. “Stop talking nonsense!”

“How so? You’ve been raised like a Knocker, my son. I see there no nonsense for you to have two wives.”

    Sharing such simple things with them, enjoying their futile arguments filling the silence, is this what people having a true family feel?

“No. None of them is. We’re just travelling together. Just travelling together.”

“Ah, I see.” Beluacor averts his gaze.

    If his behaviour remains relaxed, I can’t help but notice the bit of discontent in his silver eyes. “What a pity.” He turns back to his kitchen, the scent of cooking pancake dough reminding him to flip them. “Not even bringing your father a daughter-in-law when returning home.”

“Shut up.”

    While Tyffeon crosses his arms, Beluacor returns with a plateful of pancakes topped with whipped cream and a handful of unidentified fruits.

“There, help yourselves.”

“Waaahh! They seem so tasty!!” I can’t refrain my hype.

“What are these?” Timoria asks while I serve her.

“You’ve never eaten such in your kingdom?” Beluacor blinks, then proudly smiles. “Then you have never been in Gnog Fontalamh before. Pancakes hold a special place in our plates. They are our favourite food. Though, the favourite and the most popular ones are those served at the occasion of Gebo’s festival.” He takes a spoonful of his own fluffy pancake, an amber syrup dripping down to the plate. “If you stay until the end of Autumn, you may have a chance to grab some.”

“Ahhhh, delicious!!” I let out with dazzling eyes. “I missed these kind of sweet treats. Tyffeon only makes unsavoury, healthy food.”

“Oi!”

“He tends to use a lot of these herbs…” Beluacor adds.

“Yeah, it gives a… quite herbish aftertaste.”

“Next time, I’ll leave you starving.”

“What makes the pancakes served at Gebo this special?” Timoria asks, savouring her dessert.

    At her words, Beluacor turns his gaze at her, considering the question carefully.

“The eggs used to prepare them.” He begins. “They are difficult to get, but give the most savoury pancakes you’ll ever taste. Thus, we only use them at this occasion.”

“The eggs?” She repeats.

“Yes. Only the Knockers who return from their rite of passage can fetch them, since the only place they are to be found is in the depths of the dungeon.”