Following a New Path

[Miss_Confined 271]

 

 

 

It was a warm, sunny afternoon in the nation of Urguan when Brynaelda Grandaxe decided to start packing for her departure. She had aimlessly sat in Grudgebeard’s easy-chair after seeing him off - it was a difficult morning. She had eaten his sandwich, given as he left it behind in his hasty exit. Bryn wandered the halls of the Clan Hall district, settling on the doors of the Grandaxe Hall and tracing the red heart painted on the door. Her time as Clan Mother had not been the easiest, but it was certainly memorable. 

 

She reached for the suitcases and grumbled, “I’m not leaving my good plates behind.” Her feet shuffled reluctantly to the kitchen, packing the plates- and then unpacking them…

“Well, they might need them anyway. I will just get more plates. A new adventure and all that...”  Brynaelda commented to no one in particular as she stood aimlessly in the Clan Hall. Leaving felt unfathomable, but staying felt just as foreign.

 

Bryn meandered from the Grandaxe Hall’s kitchen, lingering at the statues of the Grandaxes who lead before her, she panned upwards to blow a kiss to Dhaen’s statue and whispered in a mischievous tone, “I’ve got an ale with your name on it at the White Stag.” She grinned, guiltily peeking at the Clan Mother’s seat, a chair she had sat in twice, and then began the slow meander back towards the front door again.

Brynaelda turned, she affixed a note to the pillar of the Clan Hall for her clanmates to read; nearing the front door, Bryn scratched Bucky the Cat on her way out. Her thoughts briefly drifted to clan beardlings before easing as she reminded herself that the clan has stood before her time and will continue to stand after. 

 

“Clothes, keepsakes, blankets, yarn.” She echoed aloud as she walked towards her residence, she glanced past Grudgebeard’s Stareyes banner. Brynaelda was trying not to worry about him, if their paths were meant to cross- they would cross again. 

 

In the distance, the loud cluck of a Bokolo echoed sonorously from the stables, reminding Bryn of her own path ahead. She tossed the pile of suitcases by the front door into a wagon, gathering the last few possessions, placing her lute and songbooks atop the mound and then wheeled it towards the entrance of Kal’Darakaan. 

 

 

She would never forget Urguan, carrying a piece of her homeland in her heart wherever she went. Likewise, as Brynaelda wheeled the wagon out of the stony gates of the city, she knew Urguan wouldn’t forget her. Despite the difficulties that she had faced, she had done more for her people and kin than most dwarves could even dream of. 

Elysium, like her home once upon a time, would welcome her with open arms. As Brynaelda walked into the growing dusk of evening, she left a legacy of unmatched honor and walked a path none but herself could follow. 

 

Brynaelda Grandaxe riding a bokolo, Year 33 of the Second Age.

 

...

 

 For the Grandaxes:

Spoiler

 

 

 

[Reece Nolan 634]

A long time had passed since it had last surfaced, the entity's image becoming weaker and weaker as the years passed. Though the memory of its life would eventually fade as all things do, the condemned form had one last visit to make before it could give in and finally cease to be. Within the shadows of Kal'Darakaan's mighty defenses built high above the gates stood a stout and singed figure, hidden from prying eyes. Though none could see it, a weak smile crept across withered skin as it watched an old friend depart for greener pastures.

[LuneAria 169]

Asvi Frostbeard remembered Brynaelda fondly as one of the first dwarves to welcome her into Urguan. She retreated into the woods of Hefrumm, perhaps to shed seldom seen tears, upon her realization that the dwarf who had welcomed her almost as family with those warm motherly eyes and a promise of cookies had left down the road. 

 

When her tears had nearly dried and her hands were not shaking, she knit a doll. Just as badly made as always, but through perseverance and many fireside attempts, it would be something to be proud of. 

 

[OddOllie123 255]

Porkpie, the Grandaxe progeny, rolled himself up into a tight ball. Stubby arms cramping his legs closer to his chest. Or at least as far as his colossal belly would allow him. Bread crunched as he pulled himself even closer together to consolidate his grip. But despite this the dwed didn't care. His bread was no longer, and never was, more important to him than Bryn. The beardling carried on squeezing himself together tightly, memories flooding back. First of them meeting, eating some well deserved stew. The second memory being that of the gods path. And the third being them cooking together in her abode. With these memories the dwed stropped up. Throwing himself about the place in a flurry of frustration and distraught distress. Soon after the energy was transferred to his fat little legs. Sending the boy into a unstoppable charge of emotion down to his past-clan-mothers home. Using his own key given by her to let himself in. To do what was unknown. That was until the beardling exited the home with a wooden bowl of hot stew. The dwed had cooked exactly according to memory of their one on one session. Each piece of meat and vedge cut specifically to the memory. An hour later both the beardling and stew found themselves sitting atop the path of the gods. Staring down at the valley bellow. A secret solemn tear escaping his eye and rippling into the stew. Heavy breathing following, exhausted by the journey the dwed fell asleep with stew in hand. Dreaming of what could only be assumed to be Bryn and him. A special dream. One which the beardling would dearly cherish even if forgotten.  

[DrHope 586]

[!] Somewhere in the Library of Remembrance, in its lower levels sat an aged dwarf. Amidst a pile of old books and scattered parchments, he quietly rocked himself in his chair, enjoying the quiet comfort of the pipeweed. He mused to himself in thought... 

 

Alas, yet another one of his students had left, but he remembered fondly the loving embrace he had helped assure between son and mother even if it were in vain.  He would not forget so easily the warmth, the trials both had faced nor the relationship built upon it.  Neither would he forget the caring and kind woman he had come to befriend then even if it were estranged these days. He wished her a fond farewell as he sang a song from her book, published so many years ago. 

 

The Library was not quiet that night, for in the dimly lit halls, music rang and the lament of one of the finest Grandaxes could be heard...

[Fimlin 1696]

"It is 'ard to come by, a dwed willing an' capable to lead ah clan. T'ere 'ave nae been quite t'at maneh, an' t'ose w'o are know 'ow it is, it is an unending impossible task. Fer as long as ah clan exists so does its endless battle to survive an prosper, weh are all jus' dikes against teh toide.

 

Atleas' most of teh toime we are. Evereh nuw an' then teh tide is changed to our favour; t'at is wot Brynaelda 'as managed to do fer our clan. She 'as brought prosperiteh to the clan, fostered ah new generation an' opened the gate fer our future. Regardless o' what 'appens next Brynaelda is one of teh best among th'ose who've lead the Clan, an' ye would all do well to learn from her."

 

Fimlin would say to those there to hear in the Grandaxe Clan Hall.

 

 

Spoiler

Brynaelda.
I don't know when this letter will reach you, I know I've already expressed how proud I am of how you have taken up the clan, and how well of a job you have done even if you do not realize it. To whatever you decide to do next, may all the Brathmordakin bless ye, even if you depart the clan for now, rest assured that is only the beginning.

-- Ogradhad Guide ye, Fimlin.

 

[Luciloo 2649]

When Lulu heard about Brynaelda's departure, she smiled. In time she remembered the kind lass who sat down with her and advised her about the difficulties she might encounter as Clan Mother, things Bryn had to overcome herself. Looking to her wrist, the sapphire-hued beaded bracelet glimmered in the light of nearby lanterns, a symbol of friendship from one Bekarumm to another. Slipping it over her hand, Lulu held it tightly in a fist, then brought it up to her breast, "Gud luck Bryn.. go be happy," she chuckled.

[Lady_Dietz 239]

Yazmorra Blackroot accompanies her sister-in-law to a ball the last night before she rode off, looking fabulous as ever atop her Bokolo. She watches as Brynaelda dances and laughs, her smile lighting up the room. "Yeh will beh soh greatleh missed 'igh Prop'et, Clan Mot'er, an' dear sista."  She hums to herself, a bittersweet smile on her face. The former High Chief recalled Brynaelda being the one that built her confidence to run for the wooden throne, listening to a younger Yaz's speech for hours and even weaving her a much needed new outfit for the occasion. "Ah Bryn, t'ere are naye quoite as maneh dwed soh carin' an' confident as ye. Yeh 'ave brought teh Grandaxes great 'onor, teh Brat'mordakin great 'onor, an' 'elped soh maneh wee, wide-eyed dwed aye can naye even keep count ov. Includin' meh wunce upon ah toime, aye will owe yeh foreva fur t'at."  She lets out a sigh, a few tears welling in her eyes as the Grandaxe twirls about the room. "Teh visage ov Belka, may 'er passion bring yeh endless joy meh sistah, w'erever 'er skies guide yeh."

[Dhaelena 586]

Dhaen Grandaxe hurried out of the city, a knapsack in hand. The ringing of her booted feet slapping down upon Urguan soil echoed through the Dwarven valley. She watched the ginger braids of her clan sister disappear onto a wagon, sunlight reflecting upon them in ethereal streaks of gold and amethyst. 

 

"Brynaelda!"  Dhaen yells, hurrying to catch the dwarven woman as her wagon trundled off. Her allegiance lay with Brynaelda Grandaxe and under the warm gaze of Anbella, Dhaen would fulfill that loyalty.

 

"Wait for me~"