Fafnir turns to the older dwarf next to him, taking in his disheveled look, his sooty whiskers and pastes a bright smile upon his face. Slapping both hands, palms down upon the wood table, he turns his gaze to his companions and stands up. "As it happens, supper has been ready and then some. The flavor take you may credit to me, but the stringiness of the meat must be credited to the dour farmer who refused to fatten them up before he had the misfortune to expire." He turns his back and waves a hand to them to follow. "Supper is over here. Let's move closer to the little oven, eh? That way, no one will have to chip ice off the fish, and the meat will be somewhat warm. I am not partial to congealed onions in broth, myself. " And with that Fafnir makes his way over to the smallest of the oven, and bends over to pile the rest of the meat upon trenchers.
Hjalmar creaks to his feet and hobbles after Fafnir. In the short time he has been sitting down, his sore muscles have become stiff, but he tries to put a good face on it. After all, he can smell supper from here, and it seems like a good one.
Eilif's voice is a low as she growls bitterly. "You must have been hit on the head old man, if you think I can sharpen a blade in my current state. Do you think I can see beyond my own nose when I have this?" She makes a sharp gesture towards her face with her good hand as she rises reluctantly to make her way to the table where Fafnir has served the food. Perhaps, she thinks, Perhaps if I sit at the end furtherest from the fires, I can avoid the smell of the meat. Perhaps then I will not shame myself by losing the contents of my stomach on the kitchen floor. Her jaw set resolutely, trying to breath through her mouth and not her nose, she takes a seat.
Nasi lifts his chin to look at the the tall dwarf. "By the Maker, why didn't you say so sooner! I'd rather have food in my belly than stories in my head." Without hesitation, Nasi rises from his seat on his bench, following Fafnir toward the ovens. As he does so he admires the free swing of the other's body as he walks. No muscle-bound, clumsy hulk this one. He rubs his hand along his beard thoughtfully as he takes his seat.
Aztryd 's stomach has been growling since mid afternoon, crossing the ocean. Gratefully, she follows the others to the side of the small oven, where the food is waiting. "Any food is welcome, good cook!" she says to Fafnir. "I won't be complaining about the farmer's meat."
Hjalmarr collapses onto a bench near Eilif. He eyes her as he shifts his old bones into something resembling comfort. Up close, the wound on her face looks much nastier. "Sorry," he says gruffly. "A figure of speech. I have no doubt you will soon be holding blades again with the finest."
Fafnir chuckles and gives Aztryd a wry grin over his shoulder. "Then, sweetmeat, you have not had the pleasure of dining on this divine bovine." He scoops up two trenchers steaming with meat, fish, onion, and potatoes. He places one before Aztryd and the other before Eilif, giving her a soft smile and a gentle pat on her hand. "And by divine, I should say that the poor cow should have been grazing in sweet grass fields created by Yavanna herself, not pulling thistle and milkweed outside our beloved settlement." He pauses and looks over at Nasi. "Do cows eat milkweed, do you know, handsome?" He does not wait for an answer, but walks back to the stove to serve up two more plates.
As Adelstienn makes his way back to the kitchen he is deep in thought. He wanders away from the kitchen turning over the things Aztryd had spoken of. "Great swans," he mutters, so that even his companion heard. Still, this is quite a tale, so he had decides to go outside the settlement and take a look. As a surviving elder he figures he should assess the damage as well. The damage was extensive throughout the city, and he shakes his head as he recognizes familiar faces on some of the dead among the rubble. As he reaches the door, he nods to his companion to be at the ready, and ventures a look see. The firs on the height rustle as he looks down the mountain path. No sign of an enemy about. So he relaxes his caution right before he sees a magnificent swan, much larger than any he had previously perceived. Rubbing his eyes, he reconsiders Aztryd's tale.
"Now I really need a drink!" he says as he goes back inside. Carefully he picks his way back to the cellar, and chooses out a barrel of his best ale. "I think we are going to need this when I tell what I saw," he says aloud as his companion lifts the barrel. "It seems part of Aztryd 's tale may be true." Now he makes his way back to the kitchens, and the smell in the air reminds him he is hungry. He enters and sees his companions seated at the bench.
Eilif flinches a little at Fafnir's pat upon her shoulder. She had not realized he was that close, and the touch was at first a shock, and then a pleasant surprise. Small kindnesses seemed more treasured in the bleak aftermath of the attack and she smiles gratefully at his retreating back.
Nasi raises ebony eyes to regard the other as he spoke to him, his mind a little awhirl at the casual compliment paid to him, and he stammers a little as he replies. "I.. I am a stonemason. I.. I know nothing of cows." He ducks his head to stare at the table in front of him, cursing himself for his halting tongue. Stone mason and stone for a tongue, he thinks as he sighs and picks at the wood of the table top with a thumbnail before realizing the Elder had returned. Glad of the change of focus, he smiles at Adelstienn. "Your brew will be most welcome tonight I think. I for one am grateful you see fit to share it."
Aztryd nods her thanks to Fafnir as he places the trencher in front of her, saws eagerly with her belt knife at the meat. It is indeed tough, but her appetite is prepared to forgive quite a lot. Even to forgive the cook calling her "sweetmeat." Though from the banter around the table, perhaps he spoke to everyone in such familiar terms.
His back to the group, no one sees the smile that spreads across Fafnir's face as he hears the stonemason stammer out an answer. He's shy, Fafnir realizes, and for some reason, his smile grows bigger as he slides another fish upon an already laden trencher. Hearing Nazi call out to Adelsteinn, Fafnir turns, and balancing three trenchers, he makes a cautious way to the table. "Elder, " he says, making sure his face lights up. "Please, sit. Supper is ready, and we have another fortunate soul find us. We are blessed by the Maker he could find us, and that the wounds he has sustained have not weakened one so venerable, to judge by his white hair. Please, please, come sit, let me serve your meal." And with that, Fafnir sets down the plates, first for the elder, then for Hjalmarr, and lastly the plate with the extra fish before Nasi.
Hjalmarr is oblivious to all the by-play. He nods in appreciation when his food arrives, and tucks in. Then he drifts into a small private world where there is nothing but warmth from the fire, hot food in his belly, and a strong bench beneath him. Before he realizes it, he begins to doze.
Adelsteinn has his companion set the barrel of beer down and pours himself a drink. Without so much as a greeting, he quietly takes a seat at the table beside Aztryd. He stares in his drink, deep in thought for a moment and then asks, "Aztryd, please tell your full tale as to how you arrived here?"
> Next
Hjalmar creaks to his feet and hobbles after Fafnir. In the short time he has been sitting down, his sore muscles have become stiff, but he tries to put a good face on it. After all, he can smell supper from here, and it seems like a good one.
Eilif's voice is a low as she growls bitterly. "You must have been hit on the head old man, if you think I can sharpen a blade in my current state. Do you think I can see beyond my own nose when I have this?" She makes a sharp gesture towards her face with her good hand as she rises reluctantly to make her way to the table where Fafnir has served the food. Perhaps, she thinks, Perhaps if I sit at the end furtherest from the fires, I can avoid the smell of the meat. Perhaps then I will not shame myself by losing the contents of my stomach on the kitchen floor. Her jaw set resolutely, trying to breath through her mouth and not her nose, she takes a seat.
Nasi lifts his chin to look at the the tall dwarf. "By the Maker, why didn't you say so sooner! I'd rather have food in my belly than stories in my head." Without hesitation, Nasi rises from his seat on his bench, following Fafnir toward the ovens. As he does so he admires the free swing of the other's body as he walks. No muscle-bound, clumsy hulk this one. He rubs his hand along his beard thoughtfully as he takes his seat.
Aztryd 's stomach has been growling since mid afternoon, crossing the ocean. Gratefully, she follows the others to the side of the small oven, where the food is waiting. "Any food is welcome, good cook!" she says to Fafnir. "I won't be complaining about the farmer's meat."Hjalmarr collapses onto a bench near Eilif. He eyes her as he shifts his old bones into something resembling comfort. Up close, the wound on her face looks much nastier. "Sorry," he says gruffly. "A figure of speech. I have no doubt you will soon be holding blades again with the finest."
Fafnir chuckles and gives Aztryd a wry grin over his shoulder. "Then, sweetmeat, you have not had the pleasure of dining on this divine bovine." He scoops up two trenchers steaming with meat, fish, onion, and potatoes. He places one before Aztryd and the other before Eilif, giving her a soft smile and a gentle pat on her hand. "And by divine, I should say that the poor cow should have been grazing in sweet grass fields created by Yavanna herself, not pulling thistle and milkweed outside our beloved settlement." He pauses and looks over at Nasi. "Do cows eat milkweed, do you know, handsome?" He does not wait for an answer, but walks back to the stove to serve up two more plates.
As Adelstienn makes his way back to the kitchen he is deep in thought. He wanders away from the kitchen turning over the things Aztryd had spoken of. "Great swans," he mutters, so that even his companion heard. Still, this is quite a tale, so he had decides to go outside the settlement and take a look. As a surviving elder he figures he should assess the damage as well. The damage was extensive throughout the city, and he shakes his head as he recognizes familiar faces on some of the dead among the rubble. As he reaches the door, he nods to his companion to be at the ready, and ventures a look see. The firs on the height rustle as he looks down the mountain path. No sign of an enemy about. So he relaxes his caution right before he sees a magnificent swan, much larger than any he had previously perceived. Rubbing his eyes, he reconsiders Aztryd's tale.
"Now I really need a drink!" he says as he goes back inside. Carefully he picks his way back to the cellar, and chooses out a barrel of his best ale. "I think we are going to need this when I tell what I saw," he says aloud as his companion lifts the barrel. "It seems part of Aztryd 's tale may be true." Now he makes his way back to the kitchens, and the smell in the air reminds him he is hungry. He enters and sees his companions seated at the bench.
Eilif flinches a little at Fafnir's pat upon her shoulder. She had not realized he was that close, and the touch was at first a shock, and then a pleasant surprise. Small kindnesses seemed more treasured in the bleak aftermath of the attack and she smiles gratefully at his retreating back.
Nasi raises ebony eyes to regard the other as he spoke to him, his mind a little awhirl at the casual compliment paid to him, and he stammers a little as he replies. "I.. I am a stonemason. I.. I know nothing of cows." He ducks his head to stare at the table in front of him, cursing himself for his halting tongue. Stone mason and stone for a tongue, he thinks as he sighs and picks at the wood of the table top with a thumbnail before realizing the Elder had returned. Glad of the change of focus, he smiles at Adelstienn. "Your brew will be most welcome tonight I think. I for one am grateful you see fit to share it."Aztryd nods her thanks to Fafnir as he places the trencher in front of her, saws eagerly with her belt knife at the meat. It is indeed tough, but her appetite is prepared to forgive quite a lot. Even to forgive the cook calling her "sweetmeat." Though from the banter around the table, perhaps he spoke to everyone in such familiar terms.
His back to the group, no one sees the smile that spreads across Fafnir's face as he hears the stonemason stammer out an answer. He's shy, Fafnir realizes, and for some reason, his smile grows bigger as he slides another fish upon an already laden trencher. Hearing Nazi call out to Adelsteinn, Fafnir turns, and balancing three trenchers, he makes a cautious way to the table. "Elder, " he says, making sure his face lights up. "Please, sit. Supper is ready, and we have another fortunate soul find us. We are blessed by the Maker he could find us, and that the wounds he has sustained have not weakened one so venerable, to judge by his white hair. Please, please, come sit, let me serve your meal." And with that, Fafnir sets down the plates, first for the elder, then for Hjalmarr, and lastly the plate with the extra fish before Nasi.
Hjalmarr is oblivious to all the by-play. He nods in appreciation when his food arrives, and tucks in. Then he drifts into a small private world where there is nothing but warmth from the fire, hot food in his belly, and a strong bench beneath him. Before he realizes it, he begins to doze.Adelsteinn has his companion set the barrel of beer down and pours himself a drink. Without so much as a greeting, he quietly takes a seat at the table beside Aztryd. He stares in his drink, deep in thought for a moment and then asks, "Aztryd, please tell your full tale as to how you arrived here?"
