Nasi 's footfalls are muted on the hard stone floor of the corridor as he returns with a small group of other dwarves from a foraging expedition. He mutters a soft curse and shifts his hold on the sack he is carrying. So many times today he had accidentally brushed against the raw wound that stretched almost the length of his torso, and he had just done it again. Still, there were others who had far worse wounds than the burn that was causing such annoyance. Glancing ahead he spies a strange figure standing outside the kitchen doors. His pace slows, and he eyes the tall stranger up and down as he approaches. An elf! Still, it was none of his business what an elf was doing here in Gamilfûn. Shrugging, he continues to the kitchen.
Nasi hefts the sack forward with a grunt as he strides through the doorway, "You are in for a treat tonight," he calls merrily and nods to the sack. "I found a swan just on the edge of the forest outside, and it was strangely easy to catch. By the way, do you know there is an elf in the hallway? What is going on here, la.." he stops mid sentence and gags. "By the Maker! What IS that smell!"
Fafnir looks up as Nasi enters with a group of other survivors. At Nasi's announcement, he gives a grin of wry amusement and nods at the sack. "So, Aztryd, this would be the swan, upon whose snowy feathered back you rode to return to your people?" He looks over at Aidelsteinn and elbows the Elder. "Do we ride the bird to safety and then eat him? Or just eat him since we can't all fit upon his strong back?"
Aztryd looks up in alarm at the mention of "swan". But the sack the newcomer is carrying is much too small to contain Alqua. "No, not the same swan at all. Feel free to go out the front gate and see the swan we rode in on, if you like." She refrains from adding that it is as likely Alqua could eat him as he eating her.
Eilif's eyes narrow as she regards the stranger who still remained sitting at the bench. Her behaviour was very odd indeed, and she glances over at Fafnir, circling an index near her ear to indicate what she thought of Aztryd's tall tales and then looks to Adelsteinn for his direction in this situation.
"Oh, Nasi" Adelsteinn nods. "Good of you to return. I see your wounds. But there is a lot to tend to. Put the new supplies in the pantry . We're going to need them. That swan is nice, but if you rode that here then I be a orc's uncle!" he adds as a sneer, looking towards Aztryd. "An elf in the corridor?" he asks, turning to one of the dwarves that accompanied Nasi. "Oh, hoy, you lot pick up the pace. Take a tray to that elf, and take her to that safe room at the end of the corridor." He offers a mug of ale. "I am sure this will raise that elf's spirits. And Aztryd," he adds in a disgusted snort, "take that baby out of here! There are some latrines down the hall on your right, get down there snap snap. That stench is killing me!"
Nasi nods respectfully to the Master Brewer and does as requested, lugging his sack to the pantry and settling it against a wall before returning to warm his hands by the fire. "Riding a swan?" he thinks to himself as he crosses the room. He glances at the stranger and shakes his head. Someone must have been hit on the head by some falling rubble, surely.
Eilif watches as the dwarves move to follow the Elder's direction. Barely any of them moved easily. It seemed that most of the survivors carried wounds of some sort. Still, a tray is fetched, and food and drink is placed upon it and carried out to the hallway where she supposed the elf was waiting. That is, if the elf was not also part of this stranger's apparently tall tales. Shrugging, Eilif watches Nazi walk to the fire, noticing how he favours his right side. She lifts a hand to tenderly touch her face. Yes, few had escaped the attack unscathed.
Fafnir turns slightly to the Elder, as the Master Brewer barks out his order, his eyes narrowing as he notes the tone in the Elder's voice. Boldly, Fafnir steps forward, rocks up on his feet, and peers over Eilif's head, as though to inspect each movement as one of the dwarves that followed Nasi scurries to do the Elder's bidding. "Stay lively, there, " he calls out. "And fetch a blanket or two, since it appears that the elf accompanied our Aztryd on her incredible and highly unlikely journey. The blood of elves are not as thick as ours. More like she is near to freezing," he pauses and looks over at Aztryd, his eyes twinkling. He gives her a wink. "We should not have our tall guest freeze before we hear of her exploits." He turns back to the brewer, as the dwarf hastens out of the kitchen. "There, Elder, your wishes are deeds."
Aztryd stiffly pries herself up from the bench, and bows to the elder. "My pleasure." And that is no more than the truth, for she is quite eager both to visit the latrine herself and to tend to Nizl. Picking up one of the oil lamps from a table, she staggers out of the room on rapidly stiffening legs, back down the corridor. Ahead of her, she can see the dwarf bearing comforts to Elwing, which is all to the good. Indeed, it looks like Elwing might end up with dinner sooner than herself, and also be spared trying to explain to these poor fellows how they had arrived.
Nasi rubs his hands together in front of the fire. "Thank the Maker! I can breathe again...." He pauses and looks over at Fafnir, "What delight have you cooked up for us tonight?"
Eilif sighs with relief at the comparative quiet in the kitchen as she hears the baby's squall echoing down the corridor as her mother finally leaves to attend to her. She looks at the others near the fire and moves to be closer to the warmth but stops as the smell of the cooking meat hits her nostrils. Shuddering, she backs away, hoping her revulsion would not be noticed. "Oh, Maker," she thinks, "will the memory of that horrible day never fade?"
Fafnir turns to answer the dark handsome dwarf, and for a moment, he has to swallow before finding words to cover his brief shyness. Here stood a dwarf who was all Fafnir was not, but instead of jealousy, an emotion he was used to, an emotion around which he built his own fortress to keep the jeers and jokes he has endured all his life from storming his heart, instead of jealousy was a sharp shyness. He looks over Nasi's shoulder to the small stove as he answers. "Originally, it was steaks and fish with some well preserved onions and potatoes. I had not think that we should have a bit of bull and bollocks as well," he quips, looking back over where Aztryd's pack sat.
Adelsteinn sits thoughtfully at the table as the stench begins to fade. He rubs his chin, shaking his head, pondering how his previously well ordered existence has become very strange indeed. "Dwarves flying on swans, our city wrecked in ruins, the stench of babies... I need a drink!" He picks up a tall glass of Ale and drinks, hoping this drink brings him some comfort on this chaotic day.
The latrine room between the kitchens and the Great Entrance had always been a busy place, crowded and noisy. It served not only the obvious biological needs, but also as a place to change and adjust one's clothing, to comb one's beard before dinner, to escape from a boring "entertainment" at a feast. Tonight it was dark and silent. No din of voices greeting friends, nor secretive whispered giggles of maidens bragging to each other about their flatterers, only the hollow echoes of Aztryd's own footsteps. Even Nizl's plaintive wailing failed to fill the emptiness. Only the smell of cold stone and old cold smoke, where once this room was full of oiled leather, warm furs and warm Dwarf bodies.
The oil lamp flickered dimly in the antechamber, reflecting off the great looking-glasses set on either side of the antechamber entrance. Those looking-glasses were a great marvel of dwarvish technology, each a single pane of glass a full four feet high, as smooth as metal, and coated on the backs with (it was said) true-silver which did not tarnish. Probably no Elf nor Human had ever seen such a marvel. Aztryd had always loved to see herself, head to toe, in those mirrors. One was cracked now, crosswise, at face height, and the other dangled crookedly in it's mountings.
Other damage was visible in the antechamber, as well. The fountains which should have kept the stone wash-basins filled were now reduced to a sluggish trickle. Perhaps a pipe was broken, for water oozed from beneath the basins to spread in a slick puddle across the floor.
Taking the lamp, Aztryd moved through the right-hand archway to the women's side. Quickly and gratefully she attended to her own need, and then set about unwrapping poor squalling Nizl. Nizl's linens were quite soaked through and filthy. Aztryd scraped and wiped Nizl down to bare skin, skin that would no doubt soon be turning red and raw. "A bath you could well use, little magpie," Aztryd crooned. "You and I both. And methinks we will not see that bath as soon as we had hoped. Not the homely refuge we expected, is it? But we are still alive, thank the Maker. We are Khazad. Khazad always survive. And we won't go back to Ibirgathol, will we, magpie? Not after all we've been through. We'd rather stay here and starve than go back, won't we?" Hearing her own words, Aztryd falls silent. In the darkness beyond the lamplight, a cold drop of water plinks from a broken aqueduct onto the floor.
> Next
Nasi hefts the sack forward with a grunt as he strides through the doorway, "You are in for a treat tonight," he calls merrily and nods to the sack. "I found a swan just on the edge of the forest outside, and it was strangely easy to catch. By the way, do you know there is an elf in the hallway? What is going on here, la.." he stops mid sentence and gags. "By the Maker! What IS that smell!"
 |
| Nasi |
Fafnir looks up as Nasi enters with a group of other survivors. At Nasi's announcement, he gives a grin of wry amusement and nods at the sack. "So, Aztryd, this would be the swan, upon whose snowy feathered back you rode to return to your people?" He looks over at Aidelsteinn and elbows the Elder. "Do we ride the bird to safety and then eat him? Or just eat him since we can't all fit upon his strong back?"
Aztryd looks up in alarm at the mention of "swan". But the sack the newcomer is carrying is much too small to contain Alqua. "No, not the same swan at all. Feel free to go out the front gate and see the swan we rode in on, if you like." She refrains from adding that it is as likely Alqua could eat him as he eating her.
Eilif's eyes narrow as she regards the stranger who still remained sitting at the bench. Her behaviour was very odd indeed, and she glances over at Fafnir, circling an index near her ear to indicate what she thought of Aztryd's tall tales and then looks to Adelsteinn for his direction in this situation.
"Oh, Nasi" Adelsteinn nods. "Good of you to return. I see your wounds. But there is a lot to tend to. Put the new supplies in the pantry . We're going to need them. That swan is nice, but if you rode that here then I be a orc's uncle!" he adds as a sneer, looking towards Aztryd. "An elf in the corridor?" he asks, turning to one of the dwarves that accompanied Nasi. "Oh, hoy, you lot pick up the pace. Take a tray to that elf, and take her to that safe room at the end of the corridor." He offers a mug of ale. "I am sure this will raise that elf's spirits. And Aztryd," he adds in a disgusted snort, "take that baby out of here! There are some latrines down the hall on your right, get down there snap snap. That stench is killing me!"
Nasi nods respectfully to the Master Brewer and does as requested, lugging his sack to the pantry and settling it against a wall before returning to warm his hands by the fire. "Riding a swan?" he thinks to himself as he crosses the room. He glances at the stranger and shakes his head. Someone must have been hit on the head by some falling rubble, surely.Eilif watches as the dwarves move to follow the Elder's direction. Barely any of them moved easily. It seemed that most of the survivors carried wounds of some sort. Still, a tray is fetched, and food and drink is placed upon it and carried out to the hallway where she supposed the elf was waiting. That is, if the elf was not also part of this stranger's apparently tall tales. Shrugging, Eilif watches Nazi walk to the fire, noticing how he favours his right side. She lifts a hand to tenderly touch her face. Yes, few had escaped the attack unscathed.
Fafnir turns slightly to the Elder, as the Master Brewer barks out his order, his eyes narrowing as he notes the tone in the Elder's voice. Boldly, Fafnir steps forward, rocks up on his feet, and peers over Eilif's head, as though to inspect each movement as one of the dwarves that followed Nasi scurries to do the Elder's bidding. "Stay lively, there, " he calls out. "And fetch a blanket or two, since it appears that the elf accompanied our Aztryd on her incredible and highly unlikely journey. The blood of elves are not as thick as ours. More like she is near to freezing," he pauses and looks over at Aztryd, his eyes twinkling. He gives her a wink. "We should not have our tall guest freeze before we hear of her exploits." He turns back to the brewer, as the dwarf hastens out of the kitchen. "There, Elder, your wishes are deeds."
Aztryd stiffly pries herself up from the bench, and bows to the elder. "My pleasure." And that is no more than the truth, for she is quite eager both to visit the latrine herself and to tend to Nizl. Picking up one of the oil lamps from a table, she staggers out of the room on rapidly stiffening legs, back down the corridor. Ahead of her, she can see the dwarf bearing comforts to Elwing, which is all to the good. Indeed, it looks like Elwing might end up with dinner sooner than herself, and also be spared trying to explain to these poor fellows how they had arrived.
Nasi rubs his hands together in front of the fire. "Thank the Maker! I can breathe again...." He pauses and looks over at Fafnir, "What delight have you cooked up for us tonight?"
Eilif sighs with relief at the comparative quiet in the kitchen as she hears the baby's squall echoing down the corridor as her mother finally leaves to attend to her. She looks at the others near the fire and moves to be closer to the warmth but stops as the smell of the cooking meat hits her nostrils. Shuddering, she backs away, hoping her revulsion would not be noticed. "Oh, Maker," she thinks, "will the memory of that horrible day never fade?"
Fafnir turns to answer the dark handsome dwarf, and for a moment, he has to swallow before finding words to cover his brief shyness. Here stood a dwarf who was all Fafnir was not, but instead of jealousy, an emotion he was used to, an emotion around which he built his own fortress to keep the jeers and jokes he has endured all his life from storming his heart, instead of jealousy was a sharp shyness. He looks over Nasi's shoulder to the small stove as he answers. "Originally, it was steaks and fish with some well preserved onions and potatoes. I had not think that we should have a bit of bull and bollocks as well," he quips, looking back over where Aztryd's pack sat.
Adelsteinn sits thoughtfully at the table as the stench begins to fade. He rubs his chin, shaking his head, pondering how his previously well ordered existence has become very strange indeed. "Dwarves flying on swans, our city wrecked in ruins, the stench of babies... I need a drink!" He picks up a tall glass of Ale and drinks, hoping this drink brings him some comfort on this chaotic day.
The latrine room between the kitchens and the Great Entrance had always been a busy place, crowded and noisy. It served not only the obvious biological needs, but also as a place to change and adjust one's clothing, to comb one's beard before dinner, to escape from a boring "entertainment" at a feast. Tonight it was dark and silent. No din of voices greeting friends, nor secretive whispered giggles of maidens bragging to each other about their flatterers, only the hollow echoes of Aztryd's own footsteps. Even Nizl's plaintive wailing failed to fill the emptiness. Only the smell of cold stone and old cold smoke, where once this room was full of oiled leather, warm furs and warm Dwarf bodies.
The oil lamp flickered dimly in the antechamber, reflecting off the great looking-glasses set on either side of the antechamber entrance. Those looking-glasses were a great marvel of dwarvish technology, each a single pane of glass a full four feet high, as smooth as metal, and coated on the backs with (it was said) true-silver which did not tarnish. Probably no Elf nor Human had ever seen such a marvel. Aztryd had always loved to see herself, head to toe, in those mirrors. One was cracked now, crosswise, at face height, and the other dangled crookedly in it's mountings.
Other damage was visible in the antechamber, as well. The fountains which should have kept the stone wash-basins filled were now reduced to a sluggish trickle. Perhaps a pipe was broken, for water oozed from beneath the basins to spread in a slick puddle across the floor.
Taking the lamp, Aztryd moved through the right-hand archway to the women's side. Quickly and gratefully she attended to her own need, and then set about unwrapping poor squalling Nizl. Nizl's linens were quite soaked through and filthy. Aztryd scraped and wiped Nizl down to bare skin, skin that would no doubt soon be turning red and raw. "A bath you could well use, little magpie," Aztryd crooned. "You and I both. And methinks we will not see that bath as soon as we had hoped. Not the homely refuge we expected, is it? But we are still alive, thank the Maker. We are Khazad. Khazad always survive. And we won't go back to Ibirgathol, will we, magpie? Not after all we've been through. We'd rather stay here and starve than go back, won't we?" Hearing her own words, Aztryd falls silent. In the darkness beyond the lamplight, a cold drop of water plinks from a broken aqueduct onto the floor.
> Next