The Making of a Home

[Guest]

The razor sharp blade was a blur of motion as it chopped the carrot into thick slices. The young female dwarf scooped up the slices and added them to a pot of other similarly cut tubers.

“Nice to have o’ lass ‘round fer a change.”

Shiney gave her grandfather a smile as she stirred the bubbling contents of the pot. After a few days spent cleaning, scrubbing, and organizing the old longbeard’s abode, she didn’t doubt the sincerity of those words at all.

“It’s a good thing you we’re here when I arrived. I might have mistook this place for an orc lair and moved on.”

Belthor Battlemail could not help but laugh at the truth in that, his grey beard shaking. Before Shiney had arrived the old dwarf had never really noticed how little effort he devoted to maintaining his home. There were dirt and soot covered clothes piled into corners and all sorts of papers crammed into drawers. Shelves and tables were completely covered in small tools, piles of dirty plates and bowls, and other rubbish. One room was so crammed full of old furniture, discarded decorations, and forgotten odds and ends that the old dwarf had simply abandoned the room to the chaos.

“How do ye know I weren’t raided by goblins right before ye came? Oh, wut can oi say.. Oi’m a simple dwarf wit little needs that a bit o’ coin and an ale house can nay provide.”

“There are plenty of ale houses in Narfell.”
Shiney absently replied.

Belthor took a swig of ale as he eyed Shiney over the brim of his tankard. She was at the fire turning a sizzling goat leg on a spit and ignoring his look of contempt at the mention of the region.

“Yer a real stubborn one, Shiney. Yer pa tried convincing me o’ movin’ to those lands long ago, only he asked once and respected me answer. I’ve no interest neighborin’ wit a bunch of long legged trouble makers always attractin’ some new demon ‘er vampire ‘er army every other season.. Ye’d have to be daft ‘er mad fer attention to put yer self in such a land...”

The dwarfs grumblings turned into a mumble as he looked down into his empty mug. Light ale suddenly poured into it and the dwarf looked up to see Shiney with pitcher in hand, still diligently going about preparing their supper.

“It’s not all like that. There are truly good people there worth fighting for and Aura Runedar, even in its current state of ruin, is a more suitable home than what you’ve been wallowing in here. Besides, they had nearly cleared the rubble from the Hold before I left. It won’t be long now until we recover the bodies of our fallen kin... Including Pa.”

The old dwarf sat still in deep thought, pulling at his long grey beard. A plate of roasted carved meat and steaming vegetables was set in front of him before a ladle of thick mushroom gravy smothered the meal. Belthor gave her an appreciative smile and Shiney patted his back before sitting down in front of her own meal.

“Aye then. I will journey back wit ye and bury me boy proper...”

They both sat in silence a moment, then nodded to one another and began scarfing down the food. After a few more helpings, the old dwarf pushing the empty plate forward and lit an old clay pipe with his tinderbox.

“A fine meal, me dear.. I’ll have to give the Damaran Mining and Resource Society notice. Me miners might be nervous bout me leavin’ them after not findin’ any new seams in the mine fer several months...”

He puffed away at his pipe while Shiney gathered the dirty dishes.

“You know, since Narfell is just full of long leggers and all, the whole region is ripe with seams of ore, barely touched, and many more yet to be found. Not a lot of mining competition for ore, you know, with all those demons and vampires and such. Might be a fresh start for you and your crew.”

The old dwarf thought on this a moment, then looked to Shiney smiling slyly.

“Ye remind me so much o’ yer gramma... I’ll speak wit the others and see wuts wut. Either way, I’ll be makin’ the journey back wit ye and stayin’ as long as it takes to see me only granddaughter is safe and well in that barbaric land. Don’t want ye marryin’ our blood to sum wazzock wit no dowry to offer fer such o’ fine mam.”

Shiney smiled and shook her head as she scrubbed the dishes clean.

“Don’t worry grammi, The Revered Mother still has much more important work for me before I’ll even think of marriage.”

[Guest]

The razor sharp blade was a blur of motion as it chopped through the goblin in one slice, then decapitated another on the return swing. The old dwarf was no stranger to battle with goblins. The vicious little green skins would often ambush the mining dwarfs deep in the tunnels of Ironspur. He and his crew had killed a hundred of the vermin in those tight stone tunnels where goblin numbers meant little, but these surface raiding goblins had cunningly spread their archers behind the few remaining outcrops of the Galena Mountain foothills.

Both groups exchanged arrows, bolts, and bitter words of hate while the dwarves formed a shield wall to deflect the missiles and advance towards the goblins. Shiney briefly watched the pattern of the goblins archers taking turns going in and out of cover to loose their arrows and when she called for return fire, the dwarves quickly responded resulting in goblins filled with bolts just as they leaned out of cover. Arrows splintered and bounced off the row of shields and the goblins, suddenly realizing they had missed their chance at an easy victory, started to rally together.

The remaining scores of goblin, wearing bits of broken bones or scraps of rusted mail attached to hide, swarmed across the rocky ground screaming and barring their sharp teeth and wicked blades. Shiney and Silver fought side by side. Trusting each other, the dwarves kept their attention solely on the space in front them and cut or smashed anything that stepped into view. After the first goblins to meet the dwarves were left broken and bleeding beneath them, the remaining goblins lost their stomach to face their hated enemy and their charge swiftly turned into a scattered retreat.

“Run back to the filthy holes ye crawled from and rot!”

There were a few shouts of victory and grunts of acknowledgement between the dwarves, many of them offering a nod or word of respect toward Shiney as she went about wrapping the other dwarves minor wounds from the glancing blades of goblin spears and arrow tips.

They traveled unhindered for the rest of
the day until the sun began to set and a suitable campsite was found beside a large boulder jutting up from a hill just off the main road. Guards were set and tents were quickly hitched as the campfires were lit and the ale was poured. Stories of particular moments from the last battle were shared over mugs of ale and plates of sausages, cheese, and stone bread. Shiney enjoyed the camaraderie of the dwarves but some were growing too comfortable around her and the attempts at charming her was enough to set her stomach turning, the goblin bits in their matted beards not helping either. She truly wanted to settle down and have children of her own, but she had yet to meet another dwarf that she could bare the idea of bonding so intimately and permanently with.

“I’m surrounded by good, courageous dwarves. What is wrong with me?”
She thought to herself

Marriage and children was not only her nature, but her duty to her kin and home. She imagined tending a home with the patter of young beardlings around the halls and it was a bittersweet feeling. She wished her father could be here to share the trials and joys of the future days ahead. The thoughts were interrupted as Belthor offered her a mug of ale which she gratefully accepted. He sat down on the grass beside her and ran a silver comb through his long gray beard.

“Ye did good, Shiney. Ye make me proud, Ye do. Beourn taught ye well, aye?”

“Aye, grammi. But also the result o’ many lessons from many other good kin. Vanderkaus Ahot, Silver, Thorin, Master Z, even that wazzock Brumir.”

The memories of home and kin lightened her heart. Belthor could see that. She had more family in her life than he knew, a family bonded by more than blood. A feeling of guilt crept into the old dwarf’s mind and in an effort to shake it off, he responded.

“Brumir?”

“Aye, Brumir is a Sonnlinor o’ the Council o’ Moradin and an old friend of Pa.”

“And who do ye think ye are insultin’ o’ Sonnlinor? Ye show some respect, granddaughter.”

Shiney could not help but laugh aloud and explained that he would understand when he met him, if he didn’t smell him first, that is. Silver, Belthor, and Shiney slept on bed rolls next to one another and arose at dawn the next day. Narfell was another days march away and the anxious dwarves set off without delay, eager to have some proper stone under their feet and over their heads. All of Shiney’s muscles ached from the battles and traveling, but the sight of Giantspire mountains in the distance renewed her spirit as she journeyed home.