Submitted: 24 December 1999

A Whisper in the Dark - Gweld Kirm

by Orcrist Fiirewalker

He pondered and reflected on things past. On dark things, mysterious things, beutiful things.

"Gweld Kirm" came a whispered voice inside his head. A voice he remembered from what seemed like an eternity ago.

He had been only twelve, yet he stood at the height of six-foot-three and his massive frame reached over two-hundred pounds.

The old man had noticed him alone at the bar, nursing a beer he was much to young to be drinking.

"You!" the old man beckoned in a raspy, world-weary tone.

Young Orcrist looked up and strutted over to the old man.

"What do you want?" he asked of the ancient vagabond.

"I should be asking that question of you."

Young Orcrist knew who this man was...and he new how to answer if he wanted to live.

"Gweld Kirm" Orcrist told the old man in hushed tones.

"Gweld Kirm" the old man returned in a mystical whisper. The old man smiled at Orcrist. "You will meet me here tomorrow?" The old man asked.

Orcrist did not reply. It was a question that required no answer. He bowed to the old man and flipped a few coins to Baresh as he left.

And now, after six years...Orcrist sits in a booth, alone, waiting for the next disciple.

The next disciple who will whisper too, in a hushed voice as to allow no one to overhear him..."Gweld Kirm."

But it is a lost art.

A secret art.

A mystical art.

And it will be known again.