Morning Comes with Velvet Wings

Played by:
AelKennyr Rhiano


Morning comes to Mithlond like the night ended.  Fafnir knows. Restless, he stretched out beside his beloved stone mason, an arm tucked under Nasi's head, pulling him tight to nestle close.  He knows the hour at which the last patron of the tavern left,  his voice lilting and melodious even after the owner had thoroughly been in his cups.  He listened as the barmaid, his one fast friend in this ancient elven port, sung to herself, heard the moment she doused part of the fire in the hearth. A smile had curved his lips, and he shook his head. She had been warned by the thin faced owner not to bank the fire by dousing part of the logs with water many times, and while he knew the wisdom, he also know the fetching slender elf had spent hours upon hours at her duties, only to stagger home, collapse into dreamless slumbers for a few scant hours and return again. Who would spend more time coaxing a fire to embers, when bed beckons urgently, he thought as he heard the faint tinkling that signalled she had left for the night.

She had walked out of his life, too. No more would he see her cheerful face, watched her as she cooked the meals and tried to teach him to wrangle strange consonants and syrupy vowels to approximate elvish speech.  No more would he have someone to confide in, to keep his secrets....well, some secrets.  He turns his head and watches Nasi, as his chest rises and falls in such steady rhythm. He hardly knew her, but in the time spent here, all his innermost feelings for the stonemason came tumbling out of his mouth, like a babbling endless brook, and patiently, with a smile, she listen to him.  For the first time in his life, he had a friend, a true friend.

And now he would leave.  Back to silence, back to self containment. He gives a small nod, and turns his head back to focus amber eyes upon the ceiling above them; the snores, snorts, grunts, shifting of fabric and bodies all unheard by him as he settles into contemplation.  Sleep, elusive, settles her hand upon every brow but his as the night creeps away, and Tilion's vessel makes the last leg of its journey across the sky.

It is for the best, he tells himself.  He thinks back over the band of dwarven survivors. He can trust Nasi. He can trust the stonemason's love, and his goodness, and Yes! By the Maker's left eyebrow! his common sense. He can trust in Nasi's love, which is both a comfort and a discomfort.  No one has ever seen Fafnir for Fafnir before, or wanted him for no other reason than to be with him.  It was a heady feeling, one that leaves the young dwarf with a number of conflicting feelings. He wants this dwarf beside him. He wants a life with the stone mason, the feel of the handsome dwarf's body, curled up next to his, this night and every night forward.  

But he also fears it.  Since they have become inseparable, Fafnir has become distracted, unfocused, stammering and flushed. Emotions strange and wonderful  steal his thoughts away from necessary considerations, and while a little part fumes at this undisciplined bent, another rejoices.  

He blinks as above him he can make out the whorls and knotholes of the wood beams holding the roof up over their heads. Where did the time go?  Earlier in the night, the babe Nizl cried only once, but Maker! what lungs on the bobkin!  He heard a hushed voice that had to be Aztryd's.  Were the rumors the barmaid told him true? About Aztryd?  And that huffy little jeweller in their group?  He didn't know. He wouldn't know until they were aboard that floating behemoth of a ship.  But their company has splintered. Some refuse to leave, no matter what Adelsteinn says. 

Their numbers dwindle, this time from fear not death.  The results are the same.  

Beside him, Nazi gives that broken, half snort, wakes enough to wriggle and squirm closer, and with his free hand, Fafnir tucks the coverlet around the stone mason, and watches the handsome dwarf fall back to sleep.  He leans in and kisses the broad forehead and rubs his bearded cheek against it, marvelling at how content the simple action makes him feel.  

Our numbers are smaller, he silently reflects, and so, so for a dwarf of little talent and much ambition, I have a chance to be more. Adelsteinn still listens to him, he thinks, and Eilif seems to measure his words well. Besides, what will benefit Fafnir cannot but benefit them all. Once they board that ship, their fates are intwined, like the wire  the farmers use to contain their cattle or oxen.  Intwined and sharply pointed.  He can help Adelsteinn contain and direct the actions, and direction their new community will take. He can be an elder, in time, in time.  He rubs his hand across his beard as he silently makes a mental promise. And I will, Nasi, I will. You will see. No more mucking up the mistakes and misteps of fat fools. This time I will be one of those with full bellies and importance.  You'll see. You'll see.

And it begins...today. Today.