Ugerbog....ah, yes, the stout pugnacious little toad with arms that look like forests of hairy, hammy trees. Fafnir remembers the brute. He had the most pronounced brow and the intelligent look of the oxen they had for supper. He turns his eyes to the Elder at the dwarven female's words, which are hard to catch amid the healthy squalling of a babe. Where did she come from, this Aztryd? He watches the Elder carefully, eyes intent upon the expression on the brewer's face. How quaint, he muses to himself. Death and dying in the pantry, and delicious rumor and family disharmony for an after supper pie in the kitchen.
Eilif has just settled into her bedroll to sleep. As reluctant as she was to risk the dreams again she knew she needed the rest. Besides, even if she only pretends to sleep, it will help her to escape the meal that has been prepared. Ever since the attack her stomach roils at the smell of cooking meat. But surely, surely she can find now some peace, just for a little while.
Eilif's eyes fly open at an unexpected sound. She jerks her head up to look, nearly collapsing back as the now familiar dizziness takes her. She lies a moment, moaning softly with the pain of it, and then she hears the sound again. That was a babe! That was the squalling of a babe! Hurriedly she rises and staggers tiredly to the pantry door. Sure enough, the sound is louder here for there stood a stranger before Adelsteinn, and the wailing was coming from her pack. Not only that, but the stranger was speaking in the most disrespectful manner to the Elder. "Ho!" she calls out, "Do you not know your babe is squalling, woman! Yet you spend your time showing disrespect to an Elder? Shame upon you! Attend your babe and remember your place!"
Fafnir's eyes widen at the sudden appearance of Eilif. Oh, this IS interesting, he thinks, and unconsciously he straightens to his full height. Among dwarves he was freakishly tall, and to some of the more thick-pated,he was noted to be rather skinny. So Fafnir layered clothes, slouched, and swilled beer with the dullest and thick-wittest of all in the community so none would doubt but that he is, as they are, children of the Maker. Watching the second woman at the pantry door, he thinks she should collapse at any moment. He turns his head slightly, and leans toward the Elder, whispering. "Well, Eilif is right, good Elder. You are the pillar of our community, and the foundation of our people now. It is a wonder she demands answers of you when she should give them."
Adelsteinn stares at Aztryd for saying such audacious things to an Elder, a male elder at that. After a moment he shakes his head, walks to the table and reaches for a mug of ale. When Eilif speaks, he stares at her, equally stunned, but then grins at her words. Returning to the fire, he smiles to Fafnir 's whispered words, and, turning to Aztryd, he says, "I think it is you that owes some sort of explanation. How is it that you arrive here, unscathed and coming from the direction of the battleground." He nods back towards the hallway. "We have been cleaning up the survivors and mourning our loss for some time now."
Aztryd staggers a bit on legs still cramping from the swan saddle, and collapses onto a bench. "You are an Elder? You must know Azagak. I am her granddaughter. Truly, I am returning home, as I wrote to her. We have been traveling all day, since before the dawn, and," -- here she glares over her shoulder at the rude woman -- "I have had time to tend neither to myself nor to the babe. We expected to attend to such things when we arrived home, here. But it is you, not I, who know of a battle."
Eilif strides forward into the room, as best she can stride on legs still strained and bruised from the recent attack and comes to stand before the newcomer. Her tone softens a little at the obvious exhaustion of the stranger. "What is your name, woman?" she asks brusquely, "And rather than gab about your journey, tell me what it is your need for the babe, and I will bring it to you. Attend your babe first, and then ask questions, but I recommend you do the asking more politely than your words thus far."
Fafnir watches the red-haired Aztryd drop onto a bench, Azagak's grandget...he shrugs as the name means nothing to him. "A rather vocal line of dwarves, eh, Elder?" he whispers to Adelsteinn, and offers to take the mug from the brewer. "Let me take for you and replenish it." He looks over at Aztryd. She was very handsome, in that breathtaking bearded sort of way dwarven women have about them. But the squalling from the pack. "Yes," he agrees with Eilif, about to take a step forward before stopping. No, the air is fresher "here." he tells himself. "Surely, if you attend to the ....child...we can stop having to scream over its rather lusty cries?" Then he turns and moves off to the little stove, refreshing Adelsteinn's drink and pouring one for Aztryd, all the time wondering how he can actually get it to her and stay clear of the undoubtedly fragrant little bundle in her pack.
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Adelsteinn looks at the bundle on the woman's back. "I agree you should tend to your baby first," he says as he accepts another mug of ale. Turning to Fafnir he smiles. "I would never turn down an ale. Especially not today. Too many things happening. Aren't you glad that there are certain things that only women do?"
He made a jest! Fafnir grins conspiratorially as the brewer relieves Fafnir of his tankard. "Oh, yes, Elder, bless the hairy arms of the Maker himself." Then he glances over at the tired and worn traveler. "Here," he says, and sets the tankard down on the table quickly. He backs away towards Adelsteinn. The odor that rises from the backpack reminds him of nothing so much as an unclean stable. He tries not to breathe through his nose again as he returns and stands behind Adelsteinn.
Aztryd looks up at the woman, hobbling out before her, and nods to her. "Aye, it is hard to outshout this little one. A latrine would be welcome. Food. I doubt you have milk here, but soft bread will do for her. Clean linens for her. Water to wash."
She settles more comfortably onto the bench. This is the first proper-sized bench she has sat on for months. Looking up at the Elder, she continues. "As I said, I am Aztryd. Azagak should have told you that I was returning. I have come by a very long route, much longer than I expected. Today, I have … " Suddenly, her story sounded unbelievable, even to herself. "… We have flown across the ocean, from a far isle of Elves. My guide and I." She gestures toward Elwing, who stands just outside the room, excluded from a conversation in a language she does not understand. "We left our swan outside, not knowing if it was safe to bring her into the tunnels."
Eilif blinks at the long list of requirements, and her mouth tightens into a thin line as she sees the other woman settle comfortably and begin to tell what sounds to her, quite a tall tale. "There are latrines down the end of the hallway you entered by, as you should know if you truly are Azegak's grand-daughter."
She nods towards the doors to the hallways beyond. "But while a long journey is hardship enough, all here have been through hardships of their own as well. So on your feet, woman. I cannot carry you to the latrine, nor would I wish to with your malodorous bundle. When you come back I shall have the clean linens and bread, but you can fetch the water yourself from the water barrels by the door as you come through them. It is hard times for everyone here I am afraid, and we must all pull our weight."
Fafnir shakes his head very slightly. She is certain, this Aztryd, with the manner in which she orders about the younger female. He half expected Eilif to refuse. But she gives as good as she receives from the older female, and her response was very clear to Fafnir. It was to establish that she will pay Aztryd no servitude. Ah, but the precious child, he realizes. That matters more, especially now. But as the little mother continues to babble, Fafnir stares hard at here, mouth dropping open. Is she fevered? he asks himself.
"Fly?" he blurts out. Fafnir drops his jaw, completely taken unawares of what would pour from Aztryd's mouth. "Tell me, exactly, how did such a wonder occur that YOU rode upon a swan. Surely the creature's back is broke, and there is no hope for it." He tilts his head, glances over at the Elder and says," I bet, Noble Adelsteinn, that I could create such a feast upon fresh swan. I would marvel upon the beast that carries a mother and a screaming baby upon its back. Perhaps we should return the favor and carry it ever more...in our stomachs!"
Eilif has just settled into her bedroll to sleep. As reluctant as she was to risk the dreams again she knew she needed the rest. Besides, even if she only pretends to sleep, it will help her to escape the meal that has been prepared. Ever since the attack her stomach roils at the smell of cooking meat. But surely, surely she can find now some peace, just for a little while.
Eilif's eyes fly open at an unexpected sound. She jerks her head up to look, nearly collapsing back as the now familiar dizziness takes her. She lies a moment, moaning softly with the pain of it, and then she hears the sound again. That was a babe! That was the squalling of a babe! Hurriedly she rises and staggers tiredly to the pantry door. Sure enough, the sound is louder here for there stood a stranger before Adelsteinn, and the wailing was coming from her pack. Not only that, but the stranger was speaking in the most disrespectful manner to the Elder. "Ho!" she calls out, "Do you not know your babe is squalling, woman! Yet you spend your time showing disrespect to an Elder? Shame upon you! Attend your babe and remember your place!"Fafnir's eyes widen at the sudden appearance of Eilif. Oh, this IS interesting, he thinks, and unconsciously he straightens to his full height. Among dwarves he was freakishly tall, and to some of the more thick-pated,he was noted to be rather skinny. So Fafnir layered clothes, slouched, and swilled beer with the dullest and thick-wittest of all in the community so none would doubt but that he is, as they are, children of the Maker. Watching the second woman at the pantry door, he thinks she should collapse at any moment. He turns his head slightly, and leans toward the Elder, whispering. "Well, Eilif is right, good Elder. You are the pillar of our community, and the foundation of our people now. It is a wonder she demands answers of you when she should give them."
Adelsteinn stares at Aztryd for saying such audacious things to an Elder, a male elder at that. After a moment he shakes his head, walks to the table and reaches for a mug of ale. When Eilif speaks, he stares at her, equally stunned, but then grins at her words. Returning to the fire, he smiles to Fafnir 's whispered words, and, turning to Aztryd, he says, "I think it is you that owes some sort of explanation. How is it that you arrive here, unscathed and coming from the direction of the battleground." He nods back towards the hallway. "We have been cleaning up the survivors and mourning our loss for some time now."
Eilif strides forward into the room, as best she can stride on legs still strained and bruised from the recent attack and comes to stand before the newcomer. Her tone softens a little at the obvious exhaustion of the stranger. "What is your name, woman?" she asks brusquely, "And rather than gab about your journey, tell me what it is your need for the babe, and I will bring it to you. Attend your babe first, and then ask questions, but I recommend you do the asking more politely than your words thus far."
Fafnir watches the red-haired Aztryd drop onto a bench, Azagak's grandget...he shrugs as the name means nothing to him. "A rather vocal line of dwarves, eh, Elder?" he whispers to Adelsteinn, and offers to take the mug from the brewer. "Let me take for you and replenish it." He looks over at Aztryd. She was very handsome, in that breathtaking bearded sort of way dwarven women have about them. But the squalling from the pack. "Yes," he agrees with Eilif, about to take a step forward before stopping. No, the air is fresher "here." he tells himself. "Surely, if you attend to the ....child...we can stop having to scream over its rather lusty cries?" Then he turns and moves off to the little stove, refreshing Adelsteinn's drink and pouring one for Aztryd, all the time wondering how he can actually get it to her and stay clear of the undoubtedly fragrant little bundle in her pack.
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Adelsteinn looks at the bundle on the woman's back. "I agree you should tend to your baby first," he says as he accepts another mug of ale. Turning to Fafnir he smiles. "I would never turn down an ale. Especially not today. Too many things happening. Aren't you glad that there are certain things that only women do?"He made a jest! Fafnir grins conspiratorially as the brewer relieves Fafnir of his tankard. "Oh, yes, Elder, bless the hairy arms of the Maker himself." Then he glances over at the tired and worn traveler. "Here," he says, and sets the tankard down on the table quickly. He backs away towards Adelsteinn. The odor that rises from the backpack reminds him of nothing so much as an unclean stable. He tries not to breathe through his nose again as he returns and stands behind Adelsteinn.
Aztryd looks up at the woman, hobbling out before her, and nods to her. "Aye, it is hard to outshout this little one. A latrine would be welcome. Food. I doubt you have milk here, but soft bread will do for her. Clean linens for her. Water to wash."
She settles more comfortably onto the bench. This is the first proper-sized bench she has sat on for months. Looking up at the Elder, she continues. "As I said, I am Aztryd. Azagak should have told you that I was returning. I have come by a very long route, much longer than I expected. Today, I have … " Suddenly, her story sounded unbelievable, even to herself. "… We have flown across the ocean, from a far isle of Elves. My guide and I." She gestures toward Elwing, who stands just outside the room, excluded from a conversation in a language she does not understand. "We left our swan outside, not knowing if it was safe to bring her into the tunnels."
Eilif blinks at the long list of requirements, and her mouth tightens into a thin line as she sees the other woman settle comfortably and begin to tell what sounds to her, quite a tall tale. "There are latrines down the end of the hallway you entered by, as you should know if you truly are Azegak's grand-daughter."
She nods towards the doors to the hallways beyond. "But while a long journey is hardship enough, all here have been through hardships of their own as well. So on your feet, woman. I cannot carry you to the latrine, nor would I wish to with your malodorous bundle. When you come back I shall have the clean linens and bread, but you can fetch the water yourself from the water barrels by the door as you come through them. It is hard times for everyone here I am afraid, and we must all pull our weight."
Fafnir shakes his head very slightly. She is certain, this Aztryd, with the manner in which she orders about the younger female. He half expected Eilif to refuse. But she gives as good as she receives from the older female, and her response was very clear to Fafnir. It was to establish that she will pay Aztryd no servitude. Ah, but the precious child, he realizes. That matters more, especially now. But as the little mother continues to babble, Fafnir stares hard at here, mouth dropping open. Is she fevered? he asks himself.
"Fly?" he blurts out. Fafnir drops his jaw, completely taken unawares of what would pour from Aztryd's mouth. "Tell me, exactly, how did such a wonder occur that YOU rode upon a swan. Surely the creature's back is broke, and there is no hope for it." He tilts his head, glances over at the Elder and says," I bet, Noble Adelsteinn, that I could create such a feast upon fresh swan. I would marvel upon the beast that carries a mother and a screaming baby upon its back. Perhaps we should return the favor and carry it ever more...in our stomachs!"
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