Up and Down

 by, Cathbad

The elf took his time, being sure to have a good grip before pulling himself up further.  One near-fall is too many already, Geron, he told himself.

 Geron had been climbing for two zena[1] already.  His arms ached horribly, his legs were nearly numb, but his spirit was soaring.  A little overconfident a bit ago, his foot slipping, he had nearly plunged three mil[2]!  He determined to take his time, succeed in this climb and not die this day.

 He was climbing an eastern wall of the great mountain Kalî the dwarves named Chzuz Lynch, Horror Cliff.  Besides two points where deep. jagged ridges cut from one side to the other in swathes thirty yarn[3] wide, it was flat, and mostly smooth.

 No one had ever scaled it before.

 They told him it couldn’t be done. Geron reached for another hold, made sure his fingers had a good grip, and pulled himself up another half yarn[4].  He’s now three quarters of the way up.

“No one can do it?” he roared into the wind, as he reaching for the next crack in the surface of Chzuz Lynch.  “HERE I AM!”

Another half yarn, then quarter yarns, agonizingly slow progress.  His fingers were stiffening up… not good.

A foot slipping – this time from the numbness, but his fingers held on tight, and he saved it.  More care! he told himself.

 Stretching for another hold.  A sudden twinge; his leg jerks.  His feet slip off the rock.  His fingers don’t have a solid hold yet… they’re too stiff to stretch out.

 He is freefalling.  Chzuz Lynch speeds by.  The top of the ridge fades.

 Geron’s last thought before joining his Ancestors…

 It was well worth it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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[1] About four and ¾ hours.

[2] 2,690 feet.

[3] About 9 yards.

[4] About 5 inches.