Story Time

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Aztryd feels warmth and strength returning to her body, as the food begins to fill her stomach.  She chews slowly, as indeed the toughness of the meat requires.  But  food, any food, is a delight, and this is warm, wholesome, and plentiful.

Aztryd nods politely to the Elder as he sits down beside her.  She drains the last of her own mug of ale with a satisfied sigh, sweeps her eyes around the table with a storyteller's practiced air, and begins her tale. "As I told you, it was not safe for the child to remain in Ibirgathol, and my sisters and I devised a plan for me to escape with her and return here.  Now Uzerbog was sure to pursue us, and we calculated that it would be difficult to evade his men on the direct road here.  So, instead of traveling north as he might expect, the babe and I headed south and west, to the seacoast.  There we took passage on a human ship heading up the coast to Grey Haven."  She pauses, and her eyes again scan around her audience.

Fafnir watches Aztryd tilt up her tankard and without conscious thought, he reaches for his and takes a long pull, setting it back down upon the table. As he does, his eyes, too, take in the little company of survivors. There is the sooty and disheveled elder gent, nodding off with a full belly. Beside him, Eilif leans forward, her head bobbing as her eyes close.  She's sleep, he hopes.  She needs it, and I need her to, Fafnir thinks. Strong and determined, she has a fierce spirit, and her obvious talents will be sorely needed. Not like a mere functionary like himself. Upon her back and others will the labor rest that will keep them surviving the coming weeks and days.  But for now, the soft and somewhat melodious voice of the dwarf mother calls him back into the present company, and discussion. He turns his attention back to her story.  Sometimes casting a sideways look at the stonemason beside him, his mind refocuses upon what Aztryd will say now.  There is an advantage in marking her story well. If Adelsteinn is listening raptly, and Fafnir suspects the elder is, then he, Fafnir, must as well. 

 Adelsteinn wonders how much his change of attitude about Aztryd's story affects those around him. He listens to Aztryd with interest, now that he has seen the great swan outside. Never before has he seen such a magnificent bird.  She has a bit of explaining to do. He picks up a mug of ale to drink while listening to the others.

Nasi's dark eyes are on the stranger across the table as she tells her story, but even as she speaks, all his awareness is of the one sitting next to him at the table.  Who is he?  Well, he knows his name, but probably the more relevant question was who had he been?  He chews thoughtfully on a tough slice of meat, taking care to keep his eyes either on the little mother across the table, or on his own plate.  Handsome, he had said.

Hjalmarr slumps over his dinner, dragging his beard in the gravy. From far away he hears voices, but they seem to him to be part of a dream. Something about ships, and sailing...not a very dwarvish thing to do! He frowns in his slumber and sinks further down onto the bench. If he relaxes any further, he will fall off it, but Hjalmarr blissfully dozes on, unaware.

Aztryd continues. "Now this course seemed very clever and foolproof in the planning, but our luck did not hold.  For the ship was caught in a storm, and arrived, not at Grey Haven, but at an unknown port.  And there I was so tired of ships and storms that I left the ship, and resolved to walk the rest of the way home.  But again luck was not with me, for this port was on an island in the middle of the wide sea."

 While Adelsteinn has not seen the sea himself, he is aware it exists from his short excursions away from the city. They often traded with the fair folk of Grey havens, and he is privileged to some additional information than those others at this table, but... Dwarves on a ship at sea? This Aztryd, is she lacking in wits? He remembers the swan though and resolves to hear her full tale. He nods to Aztryd, taking a deep drink of ale while doing so.

Fafnir squirms a little on his seat, leaning forward slightly. He reaches for his dagger and hacks off a piece of the beef.  Slowly he tucks it into his mouth and chews vigorously, his jaw popping as the stringy  meat, tough despite the soaking in vinegared wine.  His eyes flit from Aztryd, telling the story, to Adelstein, watching carefully the elder's face for any betrayal into his thoughts of her tale.

Nasi's attention is drawn to the old one falling asleep next to the talking mother.  He gives a light snort of amusement.  Clearly the greybeard is not as enthralled by the story as the others seem to be.   But then, neither is his companion, the young swordsmith who sits on the end of the bench for she too has nodded off.  Nasi gives a small nod of approval at this.  Few have slept well since the attack.  Rest is what she needs more than food just now.  Perhaps she finds the hum of voices around her reassuring and finally feels safe enough to doze.  Normally he would shrug his shoulders and think it none of his business, but he admires courage and this one has courage in full measure.   Nor is the stranger lacking in it either if her tale is true.  His eyes flick back to the speaker and then to the Elder seated beside her.  What does he make of all this, he wonders?

Aztryd notes that those of the party who are still awake are listening to her tale, with at least a polite suspension of disbelief.  Seeing the elder's intent gaze, she continues, "The inhabitants were kindly, and took the two of us in with great hospitality.  These inhabitants were elves, of a branch isolated from the kindreds living here.  They knew the Common language and the elvish -- the language of the elves here -- but among themselves they spoke a language of their own.  Their town and their palace were of fine ancient stonework, the land appeared rich and kindly, the people were gracious and generous -- and in all, I the time I was there, I saw no more people there than I see in this room."

Fafnir frowns as he considers her words.  "What happened to them?  To be so few?" He ducks his head, realizing he has blurted out his questions without forethought and bites the inside of his cheek, finally swallowing the piece of meat, half unchewed.

 Adelsteinn looks at Fafnir and wonders the same thing. "No more than in this room?" He considers perhaps they shared their plight. "Could it be that they experienced a similar event as we have?" he asks, hoping it does not disturb the story too much. He is still anxious to hear how Aztryd explains the swan outside. He eats a little meat, but is definitely more interested in the ale at the moment.

Nasi blinks a little and frowns.  Did she really mean there were only a few elves, or that she only saw a few? Before he could stop himself, the words were out. "So you only saw a few of the inhabitants?  You did not venture far and get to see others.  That was probably wise.  Elves cannot be trusted."  Appalled with himself, it was none of his business after all, his jaw snaps shut.  Seeking distraction, he snatches up his tankard and takes a long swig.

Fafnir reaches for his ale with his left hand, his arm brushing  against Nasi as he reaches.  At the touch, Fafnir turns his head to bring his brown eyes to bear upon those of the stonemason.  So, he forgot himself, too, for a moment, and the elder as well.  Fafnir feels a moment of gratitude that his own lapse in control has been masked, and slowly, he gives Nasi a wink and turns a composed and neutral expression back to Aztryd as he hears Adelsteinn speak.

Hjalmarr is dreaming of his nephew, and the fine seam of emeralds down in the eighth tunnel that he wants to show him. But the further he walks in his dream, the more his back hurts. He twitches in his sleep, trying to find a comfortable position. He wakes slowly to find himself with rather too much gravy about the face and a crick in his back from slumping over the table. He tries to sit up without letting on that he has been dozing, but in so doing, his elbow nudges dangerously close to his beer mug, nearly tipping it into Aztryd's lap.

Nasi feels his face grow hot as he notices Fafnir's wink.  Before he can recover it grows hotter still at the Elder's words.  He had hoped no one had noticed his outburst.  He nods and mumbles, "Of course, Elder Adelstienn, you are right," He spears another piece of fish to fill his mouth and stop his foolishness.  What has gotten into you, he chastises himself.  Your jaw yaps worse than the women at the washing.  His preoccupation with his own shortcomings pale though as he listens further to Aztryd's story, which was sounding more and more unbelievable with each word.

Aztryd frowns thoughtfully. "Aye, now that is a mystery, and I never heard any clear answer from them about what happened.  I did not search the entire island, but the town was nearly deserted -- empty streets and dust gathering in the market.  But there are mysteries about that land.

"The city was hardly fortified at all.  And perhaps they do not need ordinary walls." She hesitates. "How can I explain something so uncanny?  While I was there … I was up in a tower, tending one who was ill, I only saw from a window … A dragon flew in to attack the island … Well, there was another dragon, before, but that one was friendly, they said, but that was another story, never mind …" 

She takes a deep breath, and starts over.  "A dragon flew in to attack the island, and with it some terrible creature of fire.  They knocked down one of the towers, and set part of the town on fire -- and then the sea rose up in a great wall to stop the dragon and the  fire-creature.  The King and the other elves who were near the docks at the time said that the Maker's brother, the Lord of Waters, himself spoke to the attackers, and warned them to be gone, for this island was under his own protection." 

She shakes her head in wonderment.  "I didn't hear that voice myself.  I was too far away.  But I know the dragon and the fire-creature turned tail and flew away, and right grateful were we all for that, for all of us together were too few to fight them."

Hjalmarr thinks he is still dreaming. "A dragon, you say?" he rumbles. "A friendly one? A creature of fire? My dreams get stranger and stranger of late."

Fafnir drops the tankard down on the table with a loud, hard smack and a swosh of the last little bit of liquid.  "The Maker's brother?  A VALAR?"  All control, all masking of his astonishment flees. "You saw Ulmo?"

"Alas, no," says Aztryd, shaking her head.  "I did not see the Great One.  I did see the ocean rise up, as high as the tops of the towers, and I did see a hungry dragon veer off from an easy dinner, fly away and not return.  I do not know what it means, but there are few things that can frighten off a dragon."

Adelsteinn thinks. "The dragon flew away and did not return." Adelsteinn considers thoughtfully. He had an idea where this dragon went after being scared off by Ulmo, but he keeps his thoughts to himself for the time being. He wanted to hear the rest of the tale first before presenting his evidence and sharing his thoughts. He nods to Aztryd's response and takes a deep drink of ale to calm his nerves a little. "A dragon, in here?" He continues  to think to himself. 

Nasi shakes his head at the improbability of it all.  This beef was going to sit heavy and hard in his stomach as is, without having such tall tales turn his stomach as well.  He'd had enough, both of the meat and the story.  Standing gingerly, careful not to brush his arm against the wound on his side, he gives a small nod of his head to the diners.  "I shall leave you to your mealtime entertainment but I fear my stomach has had all it can take, in more ways than one.  The cook has done well with the poor provisions he had to use, but I fear my stomach cannot handle both the beef and the fantastic tales I am hearing.  I think I shall take myself and my ale to sit by the fire for a while." 

Clearly impatient to be away he moves over to a seat away from the group and closer to the fire, settling himself comfortably, legs outstretched to warm his feet and stares thoughtfully into the flames.

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