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Forging a Path Home | ᚠᚬᚱᚴᛁᚾᚴ ᛅ ᛒᛅᚦ ᚼᚬᛘᛁ


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Forging a Path Home | ᚠᚬᚱᚴᛁᚾᚴ ᛒᛅᚦ ᚼᚬᛘᛁ

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“Ah finalleh made et, ma.”

“Where did you go?”

“Urguan, tae find our kin. Tae join th’ dwed ahn tae start new there.”

 

“Do they treat you right?”

“Aye, they do. Ah found everythin’ ah coulda wanted.”

 

It was a day for reflection, as the dwarven woman toiled deep within the forge of her clan hall. In recent years, the blessed space of Yemekar had become her second home. One of which she created in, trained in and taught in. 

 

As hammer met steel, Ealisaid pondered the last few years she had resided in the dwarven capital. Five, or even six years had passed since she had first stepped foot into the mountain, and had began to make her home in Hefrumm. What a change it had been. She’d had no expectations of what was to come. 

    How she had been surprised.

 

“Who did you meet?”

“Evereh one. Bakir, Garedyn, Tuzic, Agnar, Briga. So maneh differen’ dwed.”

 

Ealisaid forged on. The heat of the fire and the physical toil of crafting brought sweat to her brow, but that was nothing unusual. The flame warmed her heart, and it gave the dwed woman a sense of home. She quickly lost track of time as she recalled her introduction to Urguan, to the people she now called kin and family. 

 

“What is it you do now?”

“Ah smith, ah create. Buh ahm a wife too now.”

“Yemekar bless your work, Anbella bless your home. ”

 

*Tink*

    *Tink*

        *Tink*

The metal atop the anvil finally began to resemble something of use. A blade of some description formed with each strike of the hammer. Once she was satisfied with the shape, Ealisaid took pause. She removed her gloves and found a towel to wipe her face, and she made her way up the stairs of the forge. There, she overlooked the crafting area. The anvils and fires - everything a dwarf needed to create masterpieces.

 

But the forge was not only its equipment. As she leant forwards on the railings that ensured she did not fall, she gazed forwards at the figurehead carved into the stone. Yemekar. The Maker.

 

“None ef this woulda been possible wi’out ye, ma.”

“None ef et woulda been possible wi’out Garedyn.”

“Ahn none ef et woulda been possible wi’out Yemekar.”

 

Ealisaid gripped the railings, and she bowed her head deeply.

She offered a silent prayer to Yemekar and to Anbella. In thanks for their guidance, their wisdom. Their strength. Resonating along with the dwed womans prayer, echos of a long since lost soul joined her.

 

“May Yemekar be the reason you continue creating. May he be with you in each craft, and may he protect you on your way. May Anbella bless your marriage, and your family. Your home and hearth will be warmed with her grace.”

 

“Thankye, ma.”

   

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I like stories.

 

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Garedyn felt a deep sense of happiness and gratitude for his family and kin.

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