Rhûn Darkmoon
Weak afternoon sunshine filters down through wispy clouds chased across the sky by a brisk breeze, but it brings no warmth to the small band of travelers. Clothing sodden from the earlier rain, boots caked in mud, they trudge wearily on. Nasi flexes his shoulders as he tries to ease the clinging of his damp clothing. By the Seven Fathers, the fire at the way station tonight would be most welcome. The little group has grown quiet, the rain having dampened the conversation as well as their clothing. Even Fafnir is quieter than usual and Nasi eyes him carefully as he strides along beside him.
Fafnir has been by his side from that very first day. His hand firmly tucked in Nasi's he has walked, stoic, uncomplaining and whispering jests and sweet words in Nasi's ear from time to time. If those whisperings became less frequent as the end of each day approached, Nasi knew not to shame him by enquiring as to why. The tight lines around those wondrous amber eyes had spoken eloquently of the pain the tall dwarf was enduring. Aye, he has courage this one, he thinks to himself.
Nasi has seen the looks some had cast in Fafnir's direction when his back was turned. He knew their thoughts. They are of the ilk that Nasi has always found hard to take; rigid, blinded by their fear of "different," arrogant almost in their comfortable, regimented lives. Now as they walk Nasi glances down at the hand that rests so firm and trusting in his own. That same hand had rested on his shoulder as together they had faced the dragon, and suddenly Nasi had found his courage. That hand had slid shyly around his waist when they had sought their bed that first night on the road, and the thin bedroll on the hard cold floor had seemed like a king's bed to Nasi.
As each day passed, and he healed and became stronger, those lines of pain lessened. Fafnir would stride out stronger by his side, taking his place next to him, sliding his hand into his own as though it were the most natural thing in the world to do. Now, as Fafnir has done so often on this journey, Nasi wishes he could spin a fine jest, or whisper something charming to make those honey eyes smile, to show him that he, Nasi, saw his courage and knew the strength of him, but as always words fail him. With a sigh Nasi's brow furrows in thought. He would find a way. He MUST find a way. He curses himself silently as a stone-tongued fool. If he had one tenth of the courage of the one beside him, he would find a way, he would find the words. He glances at Fafnir again, at the brown hair ruffling in the breeze, the strong jaw and the dark lashes that frame those entrancing honey-colored eyes. His heart skips a beat, his cheeks flush hotly, and his tongue cleaves to the roof of his mouth. He curls his fingers a little tighter around those of the other dwarf. I will find the words, he resolves. I will find the words.
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Fafnir has been by his side from that very first day. His hand firmly tucked in Nasi's he has walked, stoic, uncomplaining and whispering jests and sweet words in Nasi's ear from time to time. If those whisperings became less frequent as the end of each day approached, Nasi knew not to shame him by enquiring as to why. The tight lines around those wondrous amber eyes had spoken eloquently of the pain the tall dwarf was enduring. Aye, he has courage this one, he thinks to himself.
Nasi has seen the looks some had cast in Fafnir's direction when his back was turned. He knew their thoughts. They are of the ilk that Nasi has always found hard to take; rigid, blinded by their fear of "different," arrogant almost in their comfortable, regimented lives. Now as they walk Nasi glances down at the hand that rests so firm and trusting in his own. That same hand had rested on his shoulder as together they had faced the dragon, and suddenly Nasi had found his courage. That hand had slid shyly around his waist when they had sought their bed that first night on the road, and the thin bedroll on the hard cold floor had seemed like a king's bed to Nasi.
As each day passed, and he healed and became stronger, those lines of pain lessened. Fafnir would stride out stronger by his side, taking his place next to him, sliding his hand into his own as though it were the most natural thing in the world to do. Now, as Fafnir has done so often on this journey, Nasi wishes he could spin a fine jest, or whisper something charming to make those honey eyes smile, to show him that he, Nasi, saw his courage and knew the strength of him, but as always words fail him. With a sigh Nasi's brow furrows in thought. He would find a way. He MUST find a way. He curses himself silently as a stone-tongued fool. If he had one tenth of the courage of the one beside him, he would find a way, he would find the words. He glances at Fafnir again, at the brown hair ruffling in the breeze, the strong jaw and the dark lashes that frame those entrancing honey-colored eyes. His heart skips a beat, his cheeks flush hotly, and his tongue cleaves to the roof of his mouth. He curls his fingers a little tighter around those of the other dwarf. I will find the words, he resolves. I will find the words.
> Next