The Events of the 5th of Limestone, 1065
"Well! Look at that!" Said Erendor, giving a little tap to the brace around Zako's leg with his pipe's stem. "They got it out of the cast already?"
"I'm made of tougher stuff than the others might think," Zako said, grinning wide.
"Who's treating you? I... didn't think we actually had anyone that knew how to heal here?"
"We don't. It's, uh," Zako trailed off for a second, lips pursing briefly, "Dojango."
"The Brewer?"
Zako shrugged and shifted in his bed, wincing as his leg twisted a little. "He's friendly and seems to know what he's doing, and when he came down he said 'the closest thing to a healer is a brewer. We both do the same job' I'm not sure I believe him, but he hasn't tried to cut my leg off, or have me sent to the butcheries... so I suppose I have no other complaint."
"Good on ya' for that," Erendor said, chewing on the stem of his pipe. "You shouldn't be in here that much longer, I suspect. It'll be good when you get out of here. It's reassuring knowing there's someone on your side in this fortress."
***
Rice was outside by the brook, his mouth covered with a simple bandanna while he worked on constructing the absurd wall around the quarry. His work was slow and methodical, and though he was careful, his heart really wasn't in the task at hand. Throwing his spade down into the brick hod beside him, he peeled the bandanna off his face and used it to wipe gobs of sweat from his forehead and neck. Reaching down to unclip the wineskin from his belt, he paused with it near his mouth as a soft voice behind him called, "...Hi, Rice."
Turning slowly, the wineskin still raised high, he saw Lucy standing before him on the sands. She was skeletal thin, her face drawn and gaunt, and she was favoring her right leg, but she wore a radiant smile. Rice tried to speak, but his voice caught in his throat, and he had to take a quick swallow of wine to loosen it.
"You're... you're out of bed."
"I was able to walk this morning. Dojango... still refuses to take the rest of the bolt out," she tapped her thigh with a ring, clanking softly, "but... I was able to come all the way out here. To see you."
***
Late at night, with the fortress asleep, Merkil stood beside Major ---- DayCovering's bed. The old Major looked terrible, his energy, his will seeming to drain out of him with each breath. Merkil's face was filled with hard lines, waiting patiently for the reason he was asked to come.
"I have a favor to ask," Major ---- DayCovering said eventually, quietly. "And you won't want to do it. But hear me out fully before you speak.
"These Dwarves, our friends, our brothers, they need hope. They need reassurance that things will be okay, and that is something so hard to give when... Aryn works everyone raw, when Likot punishes anyone who angers her, when Stravitch bullies everyone. We're simple people, Merkil. We need simple things, little things, like hope, to keep us going. I've lost my hope... it's true, I've turned craven... and it's through the memory of what I was that has kept what little respect for me there still is.
"What that little monster did to me is... unspeakable, and I've tried so hard to overcome it. But I can't. I'm weak. I'm old, and weak. And every day I hide in here, in my misery, is a little more respect that has left, a little less hope in others that they'll be kept safe from the harms outside and in.
"Merkil. The favor I have to ask is..." He took a deep breath, his throat working as he swallowed hard. reaching a hand under his pillow, he pulled out a small envelope, crumpled from it's hiding place. "I want you to give this to Sulari in a few days, after..." He paused again, and closed his eyes, "After you put me down."
The reaction was what he expected. Merkil balked at the idea, he raged, and Major ---- DayCovering weathered it with dignity and patience. When Merkil was left standing there, breathing hard, his face red, the old Major said quietly, "If you love this fortress, if you love your brethren, you'll put me down, and you'll have me sent to the Magma Gods."
"I ... I love you, sir," he said, his voice catching.
"I know... then please. Keep the memory of me, of the Dwarf I once was, alive."
In the wee hours of the morning, almost unseen thanks to the clouded moon, Merkil walked with heavy steps towards the cliff over top the magma. He carried a heavy bundle in his arms, wrapped in sheets, the pillow he'd used to do the deed resting on top. As he stood, looking at the bubbling red below, he felt he should say something. But he only felt numb. Closing his eyes, he dropped the bundle over the edge, turning to walk quickly away as he heard the splash.
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Topic: Migrursut: What Comes After The World Ends? [Epilogue] (A Community Fort) (Read 389329 times)