Dorin the Silent

There are many stories of Dorin. Dorin the Wise. Dorin the Silent. Dorin the Steadfast. This is the story of Dorin the Silent.

Now, in the begining of this story, like all the stories of Dorin, Dorin the Silent begins as simply Dorin.

Dorin was a merchant of a faraway land, where fish could speak and fishermen hunted with spears and swords. Now, Dorin was a merchant of this land, but he was not originally from this land. And so, like you and I, Dorin initially found these people strange when he first arrived.

The people were hospitable and shared their hunted fish with newcomers. And everyone who visited this land and ate its fish would tell you the same thing, it was the best fish they'd ever eaten. Without a doubt.

And so, Dorin was set on trading with these people for their fish.

When he arrived in this strange land where fish talked and fisherman hunted with spears and swords, the people welcomed him as a merchant. They shared meals with him, listened to his stories and they traded handiwork and art. But not fish. He could never convince them to trade him fish. Not with gold, grain, or good words.

They told him he did not understand their ways. Did not respect the fish as they did. They hunted only what was required to keep their bellies full and left the sea the rest.

But the fish he'd eaten was the best he'd ever had. And Dorin was a determined merchant. He resolved to learn their customs and befriend them. He stayed for a while, sharing his stories and listening to theirs, but he was a merchant and eventually had to attend to business elsewhere. He bade the kind people farewell and promised to return.

Soon enough, he returned with stories and gifts. He regaled them with stories of distant lands where fish that don't speak but dragons soar the skies and griffons roam the hills. He traded with them magic trinkets and grain and foreign dried fruit.

In turn, they told him their stories and their beliefs. They showed him their customs and rituals, and he participated in them. He learned of their history and their culture.

And so the seasons passed, with Dorin returning at the end of each of his trips to this initially strange land that was quickly becoming his home. Over time, he began to understand their reverance towards these fish. They were hardy creatures that could survive in the cold frigid waters, the only thing giving them enough food to survive.

And he began to understand their respect towards the sea. They spoke of stories of a trickster that lived on the sea, decieving the unwary and snatching them away, never to bring them back. A god that could appear as anything he wished and mimic any voice you may know. Never go alone into the sea, they said. And never speak with anyone or anything you meet on the waters, lest your words be twisted and lead you astray.

And Dorin heeded this warning. After all, he was a merchant. What need had he to venture onto the sea?

One day, the fisherman invited him onto a hunt with them. If he proved himself, they would trade with him any fish caught during it. Dorin gratefully agreed and they set out. A few boats, three to four hunters each, ventured onto the sea the next morning.

The morning was largely uneventful. They rowed out into the sea and prepared themselves. But, as the afternoon approached, an unexpected storm began to brew.

The fishermen rowed their boats, turning back to shore, but the suddenness of the storm was too quick and a stray wave three times taller than the others slammed into the boats and capsized them. All the hunters and Dorin were thrown into the frigid sea.

Panicked, Dorin flailed around in the increasingly choppy waters, trying to keep his head above water, calling for help. He was a traveled man and knew how to swim, but he'd never swam in conditions like this.

He heard nearby shouts. He turned to swim towards them when another wave crashed into him, plunging him into the depths once again. He spun around underwater, breath running out, fear setting in.

He heaved himself toward what he thought was upward and thankfully broke the surface and he gasped a breath of air. The sky had since grown dark. He could hear distant yelling. He tried to point himself towards it, but the waters were strong.

His hand smacked something hard. Pain shot up his arm, but he recognized what he'd hit. Wood. Hopefully he could get on top of whatever remained of the boat. His strength was giving out.

He reached again towards the wood. Nothing. He swam in that direction and after a short few stroke grabbed hold of something sturdy. He pulled himself onto the flipped boat and hung on for dear life.

The storm raged on. The cold and fatigue set in and Dorin began to drift in and out of consciousness. Between bouts of awareness, he remembered climbing back onto the boat after being washed off and the sounds of yelling fade away.

Dorin awoke on something hard, the sun beating on his back. The boat. Somehow, it had uprighted itself during in the turmoil. He felt sore all over. And cold. The sun warmed his back, but he still shivered.

Sitting up, he looked around. The storm and waters had calmed. But all he saw was water on all sides. He was stranded, adrift in the sea.

He contemplated his situation. He had no food, no water. He knew he'd reach land eventually if he went West. But he had no oars, no way to steer. And no telling how long it would take. His only hope would be that people came looking for him. But he had no idea how far he was and his chances were slim.

He thought over his life. Yes, he'd never married or had children, but he was satisfied with his adventures as a merchant. He'd seen more in his short life than most would see in a couple lifetimes. But maybe he should've abandoned his goal to be the first merchant to sell these fish. Then, he wouldn't be in this situation.

Still, he liked the people and had grown accustomed to spending the ends of his trips with them.

As the sun set on that first day, Dorin tried to make himself comfortable and, exhausted physically and emotionally, fell asleep.

The next day, he awoke to a strange sight. A young man, well, younger than Dorin, sat in the boat with him staring out at the sea. He was dressed in nice but not fancy clothes and had a waterskin in his hand. Like he'd been on a nice cruise just a moment ago.

"You're awake," the man said. "What's your name?"

Dorin opened his mouth to reply then remembered the warnings he'd received from the people. He closed his mouth.

"You must be parched," the man continued. "Here, have some water." He lifted the waterskin towards Dorin.

Dorin sat motionless, unsure of what to do. He'd never expected to encounter this trickster god. Did he ignore him? Should he turn his back to him? Did he dare turn his back on a god?

"Later then," said the man as he put the waterskin back down. "I'm lucky I found your boat. I was washed off board in that sudden storm yesterday. Thought I was a goner for sure."

No one could've survived in the water without something to keep them afloat, Dorin thought to himself. Could they have?

"Anyways, my men should be searching for me. We'll be in good hands before long. Where are you from? I can take you back in return for saving my life."

Did I? You see to be pretty chipper for the situation

"Can you speak?"

Dorin continued to stare at the man.

"No matter. I'm sure we'll have a map with your home on it that you can point to. Here." The main raised the waterskin towards Dorin again.

Dorin felt the dryness in his throat. He'd probably gulped and spit out a fair bit of seawater during the storm. Resolving to not be tempted, he turned his back to the man and stared into the distance, praying to see someone on the horizon.

"Well, let me know when you want some water. You're still wet, you can wear my coat if you want," the main said as he began to take off his coat.

Dorin felt a chill against his wet clothes as a breeze picked up and despite himself, Dorin peeked behind to see the soft and dry coat. But steeled himself and made no movement to grab the coat and turned back around.

"No problem," the man said, putting the coat back on. "I suppose you wouldn't mind if I talked to you would you?"

Dorin didn't respond.

"Very well."

And so the day and the next went on the still sea. This strange man talking to Dorin of his adventures as a sea captain and offering the water.

And Dorin was tempted. He was so parched. He knew he wouldn't survive much longer without water. Would he rather die from thirst or take his chances against this god after accepting the water?

And the man did seem worse for wear too. His face more sullen, his demeanor less chipper, he even started to talk less.

Maybe this is just a sea captain trying to keep up morale, Dorin began to wonder. Still, no ships frequent this area. Only these people with their boats know how to navigate the perils of these waters.

On the fourth day, the man was mostly silent. Occasionally, he'd offer the last of the water to Dorin claiming he looked far worse than himself.

Dorin was unresponsive. Partially out of warniness, but mostly out of exhaustion. In his waking hours, his back was to the man.

"Would you deny a man the comfort of company in his dying hours?"

These words startled Dorin out of his stupor. Would he? What if he was wrong and this man was just a man? Could he subject a fellow man to watch a stranger's corpse after he died, without so much as telling the man his name?

Dorin thought on those words. He turned to look at the man again.

The man looked like someone who'd been stranded on a boat for four days. His clothes stiff with dry seawater, eyes sunken, body slumped against the side of the boat. The waterskin laid on the floor next to him, clearly no longer as full as it had been.

Seeing the captain in such a sorry state, Dorin couldn't bring himself to keep ignoring him. He opened his mouth to tell the man his name. Wait a second. Dorin froze. His clothes were already dry and soft when they met. When'd they get drenched in seawater and dry stiff like that?

Dorin hastily turned around again. And there, on the horizon. A small fleet of boats.

Dorin jumped up. He almost yelled, but remembered at the last moment. Estatic, he waved his hands in the air, begging them to see him. And he heard a shout from across the waves and a silhouette seemed to point his direction.

He slumped down into the boat. He was saved. Curious, he turned around, and the sea captian was gone.

Just the god then, Dorin thought, relieved.

The rescue and way back was a strange affair. No one spoke or uttered a single sound. They brought their boats to him but did not offer help crossing into their boat. Dorin mustered up his strength to stand and climb into one of their boats. Even after he collapsed onto the floor of their boat, no one offered him water or food, and he dared not ask.

In a few hours of strong rowing, they reached land. Once the boats were moored and everyone on dry land, Dorin using his last bit of strength to step foot onto firm ground, did they celebrate.

Dorin was saved! It was a miracle!

They brought him water and fish and carried him to a nearby home to rest in, fearing to move him too far in this state.

And the rest is history. Dorin recounted the days he was adrift with the trickster god and the people commended him on holding strong and heeding their warning.

After he recovered, Dorin set out on one last business trip: to be the first merchant to sell these prized fish. He traded these treasures for rare valuables and their weight in gold and shared their stories and those of the people who hunted them.

And when he returned, he settled down in the village with the people who he'd grown to love. And there, he lived the remainder of his days, only venturing onto the sea with those hunters when someone needed rescuing.

Annotations

Goose's parents have tried to narrow down where this land where fish speak might refer to or who this trickster god is but have been largely unsuccessful. It's possible the god is Ezdall but he has never been associated with seas or fish.