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Slowly Fafnir raises the tankard of lukewarm beer to his lips, the foam nestling in his mustache as he takes a deep long drink, his throat bobbing. The blisters across his back itch and burn and throb, and the pain has left him bad tempered, and slightly sick to his stomach. Moving hurts. Sitting hurts. Being still on the thin mattress, a cold mixture of yogurt and honey, a healing mixture, on his back, hurts. Breathing hurts. His amber eyes travel from face to face, from Adelsteinn beside him, to finally Nasi. He shifts his body weight as he brings down the tankard and hisses at the pain. "So," he says, turning his attention to the Elder. He tries to remember what Nasi said before. It was no one's fault, what happened. It is no use to blame people for running and hiding. Or burying themselves in drink, but inwardly his heart feels like a hard, rock, and it takes great skill not to curl his lip up in a sneer. He wants to yell, scream, but he does not. Instead his voice is calm, measured, the soul of concern, the voice of seasoned council, although he is young among his kind. "Tell us, Elder. Give us your account of where you were when the dragon attacked. We are most fortunate to recover both you...and your fine brew." It is all he can do to keep his smile plastered on his face.
Adelsteinn looks towards Fafnir, wincing as he sees his wounds. "I was in the cellar when it started and was safe during the attack. I returned here after a time with my last keg of brew. I do not intend to return to the cellar either. I think our time here is short." He looks around the table.
"I am surprised there are any of us left alive at all," Hjalmarr says grimly. He clenches his hand around his beer stein but does not drink. "I was making my way back from my workshop when I heard the rumblings. By the time I returned..." His knuckles whiten on the mug. "My cousin is no longer with us. I found his boots, singed. I should have made him stay in the pantry to recover. But no, his arm was better, he said." Hjalmarr downs a large swallow of his beer. "Better the dragon had burnt an old man who can do you little good, than all the young ones with strength left."Aztryd looks wearily around the table. Her stomach is hollow, and she reaches for a crust of dry bread. Nizl, fed and wiped clean, dozes on her lap. The Elder's words sound ominous to her. Time has indeed run out for too many of them -- as can be seen by the many empty seats. Her eyes linger on Fafnir and Nasi, who met the dragon face to face, and lived. That was amazing and heroic of them, but not something she would want to do herself.
"Aye, far too few of us are left, now. I tried to check the water in the upper reservoirs, but I doubt those passages are even accessible now."
Nasi quietly listens as each tell their tale. He leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs and keeping his head down, his eyes focused on the rough wood of the tabletop rather than meeting their eyes. He should have done something sooner! If he had, who knows what lives he might have saved? But no, he had to skulk in the forest until it was too late. He bites his lip and sighs.
Adelsteinn looks around as all the concerns of the remaining clan are revealed. It is time. He still holds Olwe's letter. Within it is a path to salvation. Clearing his throat, he speaks. "I fear this is the end of our home as we know it. We are a proud race, and there is a way we can go on being proud. There is a way we can pursue so that we can continue." He holds the note. "The elf king Olwe will provide us assistance. We have only to meet him at the elf port below at the foot of the mountains. I have already decided to take my chances abroad, but all of you are to choose as you will. Everyone has fought bravely, but for me, it is now time to seek our future elsewhere and live on."Hjalmarr shrugs bitterly. "What have I left here? All that I love is dead. My sister and her kin, my cousin, everyone I have worked beside, are gone. I am too old to start over, but what else is there? I shall go, and remember the old songs of Gamilfûn for young Nizl, if she comes."
Aztryd catches her breath at the Elder's announcement, and clutches Nizl to her breast. She bites her lip, to keep from betraying her eagerness. Of course, she would never think it was a mistake to have come back here. Of course not. Here, where everything has gone wrong. "Yes," she says carefully. "We will come."
Nasi nods thoughtfully. The Elder was right. There was no future here in Gamilfun for any of them. So he wanted to throw in his lot with the Elven King? He said they could all choose as they wished. He risks a glance at Fafnir, and his question is shy and hesitant. "What do you want to do?"Nasi's words hang about his head, but so does Hjalmarr's. The singed boot. The singed boot. He could see in his mind; the smoke wisping up from it. He could smell it in his nostrils. He looks up and to the stove, and his stomach heaves and turns. He is again with Nasi, in the forest, with the hideous winged death nosing its muzzle in the entrance of the settlement. Its open maw, the smell of decay, of ash, of destruction. And another smell, the Maker help him, another smell; sweet, savory, mouth watering. A smell that has many times caused his stomach to rumble in anticipation. The smell is not real, but it again is in his nostrils, evoked by Hjalmarr's words....
Pork or beef...or dwarf. Roasted meat smells the same. Maker help him, it smells the same.
He pushes himself up out of his seat and stumbles back, his back laced with a fire of its own, the blisters biting, burning, chewing his flesh. He reaches out a hand blindly and catches the shoulder of the Master Brewer. "Leave, " he says hoarsely. "LEAVE!" He turns and lurches away from them, moving on unsteady legs toward the entrance of the kitchens, stumbling, weaving, bouncing from table to table, the beer sour and rising to his throat. He tries to make it to the hallway, to the privy. "Leave," he whispers.
Aztryd nods at the Elder's words. She owns only what is in her pack. Her eyes track Fafnir staggering out of the hall. "Yes, the sooner we are on our way, the better."
Nasi is startled by the abruptness of Fafnir's departure. For a moment he sits stunned, his head -- thankfully much less inclined to make his stomach lurch since he woke -- turns, and his eyes follow the tall dwarf as he lurches from the room. The words the Elder speaks are just a dull buzz in his ears as he watches Fafnir. Leave, he said? Yes, by the Maker, yes, they must leave, but.. "Not without me," he mutters, suddenly sure of what he has to do. He lunges to his feet. "I leave," he declares, "but I leave with him." And with that he turns to follow Fafnir.
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