Beneath the Snow, the Elder Sleeps

[D3F4LT 1026]

THE LAST BATTLE

Before the battle was joined, the elder dwarf's mind wandered back through the centuries. Thumbrindal Grandaxe - Thumril Metalfist recalled the days of the Confederation of Hammers, when he fought shoulder to shoulder with his brothers-in-arms. He remembered the clash beside his own brother, Gimli Metalfist, and the guiding presence of their adopted father, Norkai II. The old warrior's eyes were heavy with the weight of memory, but when his King's voice rose to speak before the host, Thumbrindal snapped back to the present.

 

As the dwarves and their allies lifted their voices in defiance, the elder's roar carried with them—

"ARRRRRUUUUUUUU!"

With that, he joined kin and companions as the united host of the descendants marched in three columns through the freezing snow to meet the host of Orsathiael.

 

The Dreamers of Orsathiael

 

The cold bit deep, yet the spirit of the Grandaxes and their kin did not falter. They marched on, determined to see the battle through to its bitter end. At last they came upon a vast pillar, and there the foe awaited them.

 

The enemy came in countless forms, great and small, hurling themselves against the descendants in waves. Forces clashed until it shattered; clean blades were worn to bits. The field became a place of bare hands and battered shields.
Thumbrindal Grandaxe fought until his sword broke, and when left with nothing, he turned to his fists— his right gauntlet torn and bloody, his strikes fueled by the unyielding fury of Bogrin.

 

But fury could not halt fate. Amid the chaos he was struck, a cruel blade piercing into his side. Even so, he fought until the final Dreamer fell and the battle's roar subsided.

 

On 13th of the Grand Harvest of 249 SA Thumbrindal perished in battle. He closed his eyes, surrounded by his people, his heart assured that the nation he loved would endure.

Letter for Belegar Grandaxe.

Spoiler

“To my sonneh boy, Belegar,

I was not there for much of your life, and for that, I ask yer forgiveness. Yet never think I did not cherish ye. In ye, I saw the spirit of yer mother, Adeeladahn Blackaxe. Her strength, her fire, her heart—all live on in ye, and that is a gift greater than I ever deserved.

Ye’ve grown into a dwarf that makes me proud, as does yer uncle Gimli Metalfist. Proud of what ye’ve built, proud of what ye stand for. Ye are the best halves of what yer mother and I could not be. We came from a broken age, a time when all we knew was how to survive. But ye, Belegar… ye come from a new generation. One that will not just endure, but carry forth duty to clan, to kingdom, and to our people.

To remind ye of that, I leave ye the armor of our family. It is yers now to wear as ye see fit, whether in battle, in ceremony, or kept as a relic of what has come before.

Remember, sonneh boy—ye are Grandaxe blood. Stand proud, stand true, and may yer deeds carve yer name into stone as mine has been.

Yer father,
Thumbrindal Grandaxe

Narvok oz Kathaikaz! Narvok oz Urguan! Narvok oz Bogrin!"

 

[Jamwill 211]

Gallio's legs were tired as they all arrived at the city gates. The body of the old Grandaxe, carried by his kin, was placed down in the legion hall. Gallio saluted Thumbrindal one final time, slamming his axe into his breastplate, before his body was covered in the colors of Elder clan Grandaxe.

"Ye fought well, Thumbrindal."
Gallio said, taking a deep breath.
"Ah'll see ye en Khaz'a'dentrumm..."

[Two2the 365]

Stinthad's legs were tired as they all arrived at the city gates. The body of the old Grandaxe, carried by his friends, was placed down in the legion hall. Stinthad quitely spoke a prayer for Thumbrindal. Silently watching as he was covered in the colors of Elder clan Grandaxe. 

[Denmat0407 166]

Belegar Grandaxe would say nothing upon return. He would stay in absolute silence, a rare thing for him. He'd stand guard all night over his father's corpse like a statue, hoping in vain that the body might rise again so he could tell his father that he loved him one more time. Alas that's not how death worked.

[Dhaelena 589]

"Farewell Thumbrindal."

 

An older dwarven woman wrote in a journal with fond grief.

 

"Go now to Khaz'A'Dentrumm, to sit at the great Bidding and to serve beside your forefathers."

 

She remembered then traversing a different land as a young girl. The world was different: louder, brighter, and full of stories and people that cast awe in her eyes and mind. She remembered meeting her clan elder, then a Metalfist who had been newly named a Grandaxe. He was awe-inspiring to her. A warrior that impressed her beyond belief. She remembered visiting Thumrilgrad before it's untimely invasion, marveling at the fortress turned town named for the beloved fighter. Last of all, she remembered how Thumbrindal always cared for his people with a passion so deep no force could uproot it.

 

It did not surprise her that in the end, he fell in battle protecting them, for that had always been his way.

 

"We brethren must go on without you. And ensure your death was not in vain."

 

Dhaen closed the journal shut. 

 

"And your memory will be carried as a torch in our hearts."