Marakesh enters the square-cut tunnels, with some difficulty, as the ceiling is only about 5″5′ up from the floor. Ahead of him walks the Mountain Dwarves of clan Bulkfire, that had just cleared the road, they seem to have general small talk going between them, about the termors and quakes today, about the size of the boulders. One of them, a younger male dwarf with dreadlocks in his hair and beard, shortly mentions the “fine curves on those two elven lasses”, only to receive a less-than-friendly backhand slap by the female road-worker. Their general talk seems to shift about what they are doing afterwards, they are probably aware that the matters for why an awkward Sun-Elf, are here in a Dwarven Stronghold, is of a higher priority.
Just in front of Marakesh, Muirhon the Clanlord and his daughter Hildryn, the one female Dwarf Fighter, that caught his attention. Muirhon is silent as the rocks around the tunnel, but Hildryn casts the Elf a few look from time to time. Occasionally, the mountains outside tremble from the earthquakes, but the rumors of Broz Kadûr seems to be true; the tunnel does not seem affected by these earthquakes. The walk is long and arduous, the cleanly cut-out tunnel doesn’t change it’s appearance for the next two miles. Suddenly the group step through arch of cut stone, warm, orange light beams through the massive cave that is the stronghold.
The stronghold is made up from layers upon layers of cut stone buildings, carved out of the mountains. The upper levels seems more conventional buildings, similar sizes, scarcely decorated, square-cut homes. Other levels seems to have a market place, with various shops, mostly smithies and gem-workers. Just as Marakesh looks around in this strange, new place, Muirhon finally speaks to Marakesh. The workers have dispersed, and Marakesh now stands alone with the two Dwarves. “Well lad, this is important so I hope that you’ll heed my words well. Not all Dwarves here are prepared for the change you’ve brought, and though they know you would only be able to enter, if a Dwarf would let you, they might suddenly feel the urge to call you nasty things. This is simply because change and some Dwarves don’t go well together, but please, do not give them reason to hate you, this is a momentous moment for Broz Kadûr, and, I hope, for the surface world as well. I will need to prepare a few things before I present you before the Council of Clans, it will take some time to call the other Clanlords and our honorable Thane as well.” He stops to look at you and Hildryn, “You can walk around with Hildryn, she’ll keep you out of most harm, and will know where to lead you, when the time comes. Or you two can accompany me to Bulkfire Clan-hall, we’ll go over what’ll happen, you can get some rest and, if required, you two can have some time on your own. I’ll leave the choice to you.”
Marakesh’s silent nature left an awkward moment for all, until Hildryn suggested that it probably was better to head for the clan-hall for now, to which an expected shrug from Marakesh’s shoulders was all the response the Dwarves got. The trio left through to the levels with the great clan-halls of Broz Kadûr, many of the common Dwarves stopped their daily cyklus to see what an Elf was doing here in these halls of stone. Few got close, to which Muirhon had to shield Marakesh, and yell “Aurh-Saman!” an ancient Dwarven phrase that means something along the lines of “Reforge the Old Chain” Of the younger Dwarves around, many looked in wonder, but Muirhon was well-known, and Dwarves respect the Clanlords. However, while keeping Marakesh out of potential harm’s way, Muirhon couldn’t stop an increasingly large group of curious Dwarves from looking, it was hard to hide a more than six foot tall anything amongst the Dwarves.
Once inside the Hall of Clan Bulkfire, Muirhon called a very young Dwarf, short, beige-colored beard strapping his chin. Muirhon handed the younger Dwarf a simple, yet decorative axe. “Bring this to the Thane’s Herald, tell him Aurh-Saman is coming. Clan Bulkfire wishes to call a council.” The young Dwarf nodded and took off. Inside the Clan-hall’s dim-lit rooms, Muirhon wiped his forehead. “It will take a couple of hours, though we should hear the horn of the herald soon.” Muirhon opened a door to a chamber, “You will not be disturbed in here, I will announce when we will be heading for the Council.” With those words, Muirhon closed the door, leaving Marakesh and Hildryn alone. After a moment of awkward silence, Hildryn embraced Marakesh (for as much of him as she could reach), and they proceeded to talk about interests and their lives and adventures, and of their coming life together, and the task they were to accomplish. In the far distance, a deep booming call echoed against the ancient walls.
An hour or two went by, and Muirhon announced that they were leaving for the Council now. The otherwise commonly-dressed elder Dwarf, was now in a polished ceremonial plate armor (that didn’t seem to fit him all that well). In unison, the three began, followed by Bulkfire clan-folk, to move towards the Council. The amount of Dwarves, staring was uncomfortable for Marakesh, but as Hildryn had told him; he would likely have to get used to it, if they were to live amongst other people. The long walk was perhaps meant to be silent, but word had reach Clan Bulkfire and it’s equally minded Dwarves, slow and low at first, but building up in volume and intensity, the Dwarves cheered “Aurh-Saman! Aurh-Saman!”
Upon entering the Council hall, the liveliness of the stronghold outside vanished the same moment the forged steel doors closed behind the last Clanlord to arrive. Finally the Council of Clans was assembled. In the centre of the massive hall, the ceiling nowhere in sight, the walls going up finely carved with faces of former Thanes and heroes. Along a wide, but low stone table sat the seven other Clanlords on heavy-cut stone chairs. Marakesh and Hildryn was, by Muirhon in advance, asked to stand back until called upon. Their very different hands reached one another in the darkness. For the first time since leaving his icy home, Marakesh felt a strange warm and calm feeling rush over him, and if he had looked at Hildryn, he would have seen her rounded cheek go red in a blush.
The Thane’s Herold; an elder, slim (for a resident of Broz Kadûr) Dwarf in a long, dark-green robe, clanked an odd mixture of a staff and a maul against the stone floor. With a clear voice, the Herold announced out, “This Council of the Clans is called by Clanlord Muirhon Bulkfire, son of Orrin Bulkfire and Mardi Copperhelm. Is he present?” Muirhon got up, with some trouble due to the armor, “Aye, Clan Bulkfire is here.” The Herold nodded and continued to address the other Clanlords and Clanlady present, going left from Muirhon; Thurin Hammerhead, Etta Irngrim, Hrolkr Urt-Hedin, Bjorngrim Wolfheart, Zonkir Silvershield, Murdrir Rockaxe and Olfart Goldcrusher. “This Council of the Clans is also basked in the glory of our higness, Thane Kaatbul Platebasher, all please rise in her name.” As if on cue, all the Clanlords and the Clanlady rose and made various bows towards a stone and iron throne. Upon it, in a mithral chain-mail with heavy-set golden pauldrons, sat the Thane. Kaatbul’s long dark-blonde braids held together by thick golden rings, she nodded down to the hall; the Council was now officially started. The Herold spoke again, “Clan Bulkfire have called this Council, for a special reason. Clanlord Muirhon Bulkfire, will you present your case?”
Muirhon got up, cleared his throat shortly, “Fellow lords, and lady, honorable Thane, I’ve called this Council, because of what I, with my very own eyes and with my very own blood, have seen. My fellow lords and lady, Aurh-Saman is upon us!” The other Clanlords began to mumble and talk between one another. Before the Herold could ask for order, Olfart’s raspy voice cut through the air, “So an Elf gave something to one of your kind? Where is this Elf and the item it gave then? Prove to us, that Aurh-Saman is actually here.” Muirhon cocked a wry smile, “I’m glad you asked that, fellow Clanlord. Lad, Hildryn, step forward if you please, and place the item on the table, I’m certain the Clanlords and Clanlady would like to see and feel it for themselves.” Led by Hildryn, Marakesh was almost dragged close to the table, the Clanlords and Lady turned their heads to see, even the Thane seemed to lean forward in her seat, to get a better view. Hildryn placed the Ice Rose, crafted by Marakesh’s magic, on the table in front of the first Clanlord, Thurin Hammerhead. The old Dwarf took the ice flower gingerly into his hands, studied it closely, then passed it to the left. As the Rose had been around the table, the Herold then took the Rose up to the Thane, who seemed to spend the longest time yet, looking the single flower of ice over. With the Herold by her side, she whispered something into his ear.
The small-talk and low-volume arguing stopped, when the Herold clanked his maul-staff down. “Thane Kaatbul Platebasher will speak on this subject now!” Kaatbul stood up from her throne, her majestic braids reaching the floor by her feet. “You, Aelfir, step to me.” Hildryn had to nod Marakesh in the direction of the Thane, but eventually he took the few, for him, steps to the Thane. He felt her eyes resting on him, her voice was calm, but friendly, “You speak our tongue, yes? I see you’re a Zon-Aelfir, not one Ara-Aelfir, not one from a spire. Tell me, what caused you to craft this beautiful item for a Dwarf?” Marakesh seemed to look at his feet, turning his face away from the bright blue eyes of the Dwarven Thane, finally he spoke, “I found her… to be the prettiest creature I had ever set my eyes upon. I felt that I had to express that, and I’m not… great with words.” Marakesh glared apologetically down to Hildryn a little behind him. The Thane nodded apparently also looking at Hildryn’s reaction. “Are you, as an Aelfir, aware of what Aurh-Saman means? You must have heard it a couple of times by now.”
Marakesh told what little he knew, mostly what Muirhon and Hildryn had told him about it. Kaatbul Platebasher nodded slowly, “Then, I ask of you, Zon-Aelfir, by what name shall we, the people of Broz Kadûr, call you by, now that you are a friend of Dwarves here?” Marakesh was hesitant at first, but after a nudge from Hildryn, he stated his full name “I am Marakesh Fen’Harellan.” Meanwhile this conversation went on, the Herold had gone to a back room, now he came back with a bronze slate. On top was in Dwarven runes written “Forging Old Chains Back Together for Eternal Friendship” the Herold held it towards Marakesh, and the Thane spoke again “This slate needs to be taken to the nearest Aelfir settlement, we know of the spire Aerellith north of here, and slightly to the west, from clan Wolfheart, we have learned that the spire is led by a Highlady Ondilgorin. Unfortuneatly we know nothing more of this settlement. What we do know, is that the slate needs the inscription in Aelfir as well in as our Runar, I trust that you will assist our smiths in making the inscription correct.” She turned her attention to Hildryn and Muirhon, “As much as I understand what the love between two people require, I would ask that you carry this task out as soon as you can. My personal armory will provide you with equipment, if needed. This is a large task to take in, but one that will benefit not only Dwarves, but also the surface world in due time.” She sat herself down again, a thoughtful look in her small eyes, she nodded to the Herold, who proceeded to clank his maul-staff down, “That concludes this Council of the Clans, does any Clanlord or Clanlady have any say against what have occurred, should speak up now.” Olfart as the only one looked as if he wanted to end with a final word, but instead kept it to himself.
So ends the adventurous tale of Marakesh, but his adventure is not over yet. He and Hildryn have a very important task ahead of them, and after that? Who knows…
Qa'Rajh Creations 