Hearth Fire

The choice

It was all over, and complete emptiness had settled into his bones. The cold mountains, covered in snow and blanketed in winds, were his only companion. With one foot over the edge of the cliff, the other foot in the past, he thought aloud "I let them down, they're gone now. The clan, the hold, all of its gone." I couldn't help anyone. I watched them all go into the fires. As the smoke rose from the hold below, it twirled and spun into familiar shapes, mocking him. Their faces, treasures, and tankards all cracked and broken into vapors that spun and twirled around him continuously. Wiping his hand across his eyes, he let out a gentle sob. Mother, father, sister, I wish I was there. I could have helped. I could have fought.

The snow under his foot creaked and gave way a little, bringing him back to the present. He took a deep breath and leaned forward. Wait for me family, I am coming. With his weight pulling him forward to topple into the abyss, he saw a light, shining down upon him. Warmth returned to his body, that the cold winter night stole. Had he always been this cold? Falling back away from the light, he fell onto his butt. Snow sprayed up into his beard and the wind cut at his face. He brought up his hand to cover his face and wipe the snow away, behind it he saw a figure silhouetted. Dropping his hand, he stared into the eyes of a woman.

The woman's figure was silhouetted by the light. She loomed over him, as tall as a human, garbed in light robes of white stitched in green. Blonde curls rested on her shoulders framing a gaunt face, her skin stretched tight. Although tall, she was thin, pale and seemed to be wasting away. She leaned down to him, offering him a hand.

He scooted away from her and rolled to his feet, he reached for his axe. The weapon sheath was empty, so he clenched his fist and leaned forward to fight.

"What do ye want, lassie? I have proper dying to do and yer in my way."

She took him in, eying him up and down. She strode towards the dwarf, no fear in her eyes as she walked a lazy circle around him. He was a simple creature; short, only coming up to a human's chest. His stout body was twice the width of most healthy humans, and he stomped around on tree trunk thick legs. His chestnut red beard was not braided but instead hung loose down his chest. His hair matched the color of his beard, it was cut short on the sides of this head and was kept long in the middle running from his forehead to the back of his head. His face was tan and earthy, rugged with a crooked nose, with cold black eyes that contrasted against the color of his hair.

She said as she stopped walking and looked down at him. "I have a proposal for you, master dwarf. You plan to kill yourself for your perceived shame of not being able to save your hold."

The dwarf, looking straight back at her, saw the straight lines and rectangle knots in blue of runic markings along her right eye.

"What dwarf would willingly give an elf the marking of the hearth and hold?" he demanded as anger clouded his face.

Looking down at the ground, her sunken eyes broke away from his. "I am a dwarf." She whispered.

He took a step back in shock as he looked at the ancestor. How could this be? Ancestors were supposed to be the strongest of all dwarfs through time. How would such a weak and crippled creature be an ancestor?

"If that'll be true, why do ye look like an elf? You look nothing like my ancestor or their kinfolk." He said.

"I am not one of your kin" she said. "I come from a different land, not too unlike this land. My people have fallen. I have used the last of my energy to come here, to seek a true dwarf. A Thane, someone to lead my dwarves back to hold and hearth!" she cried at him. "My holds have fallen cold. No longer do my kin toil below the ground and till the mountains. They shave their beards and live above the ground, No better than humans and elves. Shrunken and weak, my kin slowly die."