DEATH IN DARHOLM

“Scraw— I’m not— Ow!” Luc yelps. Right, then. Maybe scrawny is relative. He still huffs indignantly. “Right. How can I help?”

She smiles and give him a  look that says ‘thank you for proving my point’ but she does not speak those words, she only chuckles. “Two barrels sounds like a good amount. you grab one and bring it with me to the main dining hall!” And with that declarations he lifts one of the full barrels as if it weighs nothing. 

“Oh, uh—” Luc glances behind him then back again and points a hesitant finger to himself. “Um, me? I mean yeah! Ale! Brilliant!” he says and almost trips over his own feet to rush closer.

She is surprised by his reaction, but still delighted. “Good! I appreciate your willingness to assist me scrawny man!” She slaps him on the back as he passes the blow is friendly but it has great force behind it. The dwarf doesn’t know her strength. 

        there  was  still  something  so  surreal  about  it,  the  way  the  air  carried  her  voice  to  fall  upon  his  pointed  ears  like  trumpet  sound  ––  stronger  now  that  she  stood  before  him,  but  not  abrasive,  not  for  the  way  he  adored  her.  her  songs  kept  him  company  in  the  mist  on  more  than  one  occasion,  visions  of  her  swimming  in  his  mind,  always  out  of  reach.  but  here  she  was,  tangible  and  close  enough  to  touch.    ❛  i  live  amongst  the  forest  in  the  entlands,  though  the  ents  are  long  lost.  the  mist  carried  your  songs  to  me,  ❜    silas  explains,  green  eyes  watching  her  carefully,  gaze  sweeping  the  floor  before  flickering  back  up  to  her  eyes.

her head was quirked to the side, eyes wide with curiosity, as she observed him with a soft smile. there had been many days that she heard her own voice echoing back off of the cave walls and pretending that it was her people harmonizing with her. she was so lonely that even figments of her imagination were welcome company. now, this tall strange man stood before her and told her that she had not been alone all that while. she reached her hand out to him, usually the motion would be to hold gently to the shoulder but he was far too tall for that option so instead she merely took his hand in hers and said, “then we were destined to meet. what is your name, friend?”

         wistria takes the jerky from the dwarf’s hand as soon as it is offered to her. it feels good to bite down on something rather tough that fills her tastebuds with joy, and she only distantly listens to what bren is speaking of. she is curious about why a dwarf continues to dwell in these mines that wistria thought to be abandoned, though in this form she cannot hope to ask her what her purpose in remaining here is. 

   swallowing the last of the jerky, she presses her nose closer, sniffing bren’s hand for more.

brenierre was not a fearful person. she trusted easily and rarely paid the price for it. although, that was partially attributed to the fact that she had never once left darholm or had any reason to. the only creatures that caused her to harbor hate in her heart were the goblins. she believed that they alone were the evil of the world, and all else was good. 

so she had no problem extending her hand towards the mouth of a wolf, “hungry i see! that’s grand! we have enough in the stock room to feed a hundred dwarves . . .and it’s only been me recently,” she said, her joyful tone declining at the end of her declaration. 

“you! scruffy one! come help me with the ale! tonight we drink to this joyous reunion!”

“you are quite tall for a dwarf and yet i have no doubt. what is your clan?”

“hello there wolf! would you like some jerky? i have not made a four legged friend in quite some time. we don’t get a lot of dogs in the mines! now it seems we have two!” 

“where have you been all this long while that you could possibly have heard my singing? i have explored these mines through and through it seems unlikely that i would have missed you.”

“i should be good for a little bit, but if i need more i will ask. thank you.” bren’s words were meant to comfort her and in some way they did. rosa knew her friends would happily help her. they had so many times before. yet still in her gut, there was that familiar pang of guilt that only seemed to be growing stronger and stronger. there was time to prove herself still. “i do not wish to be carried. i wish to help them, but i know you are right. they are good people, they will not mind.”

after being propped up against one of the walls by her team,rosa hadn’t moved much. every slight twitch she made was still sending pain through her shoulder. she kept as quiet as she could, besides the occasional wince from the pain. the team had enough to worry about, but it seemed at least they could have an easier time with the new person they ran into. rosa did her best to give her a smile, “thank you…i just don’t want to slow anyone down.”

“ do not fret little one, in time your wounds will heal. ”