#lordofbelegost

@strengthandvigour @lordofbelegost

The sky had darkened, and it was raining heavily. A lament was echoing in the night airs, a lament for the soldiers who had perished in the flames of the battle. So many valiant warriors were slain, and their souls would go to Mandos’ Halls. But nobody knew if the dwarves also went to Mandos’ Halls when they died. The dwarves knew, but they rarely shared their secrets with others.

However, this was not the right time to ponder death. Azaghal had to stay alive and return to his people. He had to take care of them, he had to remain their king. But he was seriously injured, and this was the reason why he could not stand up and walk. He was covered with the blood of his enemies and he wanted to vomit. He was filling dizzy and he closed his eyes, hoping that he would feel better soon.

That moment, the dwarf heard a whisper. At first, he thought that he was hallucinating. But he heard that whisper again and he opened his eyes, looking at a tall figure. “Who are you?” he asked. “Can you help me? I need to go back to my people” he told.

The man looks down at the injured dwarf, surprised, sniffing the air for it was scent, more than sight, that told him something was there.He lifts his eyebrows when he looks down at the dwarf. 

He seems… surprise to see a person, here. He is a man, brown of hair, beard and eyes, with grey hair that streak the brown and wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and an important nose.

He is dressed in leather and dented mail, and has two axes at his side, but he makes no movement to take them out. He kneels by the dwarf, checking for signs of temperature, and look at the wounds with a click of his tongue.Without a word, he stands up and leaves.

@lordofbelegost