Chapter 14. Pongo and his big stick

While Pongo didn't really resist  the two men leading him out of the chamber, he seemed awfully annoyed with them, and  they seemed more than a little scared to touch him, which at first I put down to the fact that each of his arms appeared to be roughly the size of their waists.    In contrast, the two little fellows on either side of me seemed pretty friendly, at least as far as nervous guards go.

But as they led us away down a set of winding steps, and then another and another, I started to think, maybe something was wrong.  This didn't seem at all like the way to the NP Governor's complex, nor did it seem likely that there was much in the way of a nifty dinner to be had five stories underground.

I knew it was a problem when they approached a massive oak door with iron reinforcements, opened it and shoved Pongo inside.  By the time they put me in after him, I was definitely not happy.

It was a decent sized cell, really, with not just one, but two stone ledges for sleeping, a bed pot, and even another stone pedestal for a pitcher of water, all lit by torches maybe 15 feet high on the walls.  (I didn't figure out how they changed those for a good long while by the way).

After they closed the door, Pongo, who'd rushed immediately to the chamber pot and started to relieve himself, shook and turned around to face me, holding himself in his hands.

I'm not ashamed to say I jumped back, although, to be fair, it wasn't so much what was in Pongo's hand that made me do it as the sudden fear of what might still flow out of it.  It could have been normal sized, and I still would have reacted the way I did.

Pongo, to his credit, looked sheepish for a moment, before really slowly stuffing himself back into his loincloth, smiling  at me all the time.  At the time, I remember thinking, about that smile and how strange it was, but I guess, in retrospect, he just had a lot to smile about.  I guess I smiled too some, but not for long, because it dawned on me, not just that I was locked in a dungeon cell with him, but that he'd just filled our only piss pot.

"You have got to be kidding me" I said, referring to our predicament.

Pongo, still smiling, shook his head.

"No kidding" he said in a strange accent, although his grammar was better then mine.  "It runs in the family.  My father's even bigger down there."

And so it was, moments after meeting him and laying eyes on his stick, that Pongo had me bent over and face flushed.  Bent over laughing that is.  The guy had his faults, but he cracked me up.

Over the next few hours, Pongo and I talked, comparing stories, and it turned out, we really did have a lot in common.  He was a warrior, the biggest and strongest of his tribe who lived in the far south and herded cattle and had become increasingly subject to slaving by the Kargellians. While his people were fierce warriors, both the Kargellians and the Alcatians had things like iron swords and armor, not to mention larger numbers, and the chief of his tribe, tired of losing his prettiest women and strongest young male children to Kargellian slavers, had sent an envoy to the nearest Alcatian outpost, promising an alliance against the Kargellians.  As a result of that, Pongo had been sent to Alcatia, both as some sort of a political hostage, and, supposedly to learn about Alcatian weapons and fighting techniques.

Unfortunately, Pongo hadn't make friends like I had on the ship and he was definitely not happy with the puny little white Alcatian pygmies.  He'd been abused a bit, and  as befits a warrior under such circumstances, had dealt out a little abuse himself, which only made matters worse for him, since the guards thought he was dangerous and at least one man who'd lost some teeth, had spat out how he'd see Pongo sold to the Kargellian slavers for what he'd done.

It took awhile for Pongo to tell his story, and for me to tell him mine, but after awhile, I think we really sort of hit it off.  Like me, he was a stranger in a strange land, and like me, he stuck out amongst all these little Alcatians.

We spent at least a couple of hours in that cell before the door finally opened and a bookish little parchment pusher came in, looking very scared, despite the two men with swords behind him.

Pongo started discreetly flexing, first his forearm and then I swear I think he was popping his pecs as the guy spoke, which at first I thought was funny, and then, as the guards seemed about to draw their swords, realized was probably the sort of thing that got us both thrown in the dungeon.

When it became clear the little guy was apologizing, I got Pongo to stop, and eventually, the two guards led us out of the dungeon and up into the castle where we met with another man, who told us we'd be expected to "try out" with all the other recruits in two days.  Obviously, our circumstances were different from the rest of the lads, but we both needed to be tested.  In the meantime, Pongo was to stay in the barracks and I could stay in the NP complex until a closet could be emptied out and made into a suitable bedroom.

Yes, the man said closet, but at least I sounded better than the dungeon, and I might even, if I was lucky get my very own chamber pot.