CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
"Your first axe," said Grimla's older brother Tolkan seriously, but with some pride. "Your first proper axe at any rate. How does it feel in your hands, Grimla? Does it feel like a natural extension of your body, as it should?"
Grimla checked for a long moment. "It feels cold," he said at last.
"Aye, I'll warrant it is so!" said Tolkan. "Cold steel, forged from flame. And colder still it will feel on the neck of your enemy as you cleave their heads from their bodies!"
"If I ever kill any," said Grimla.
"Of course you will!" said Tolkan. "You are nearly ready to go to war!"
"Should not I, perhaps, stay at home? You know, as a last line of defence for the women and children?" ask Grimla, trying to make it sound conversational.
"Nay," said Tolkan grimly, putting a hand on Grimla's shoulder. "For if we lose in battle to the great Enemy then all hope will be gone and not even the youngest son of Tarmack the great will be able to stand against the Enemy's great forces!"
"They outnumber us ten to one," said Grimla.
"Aye, all the more reason why you and I must join the war soon!"
"Or maybe we should, like...find a new place to live. I mean...this place is nice, but it's just...caves."
"Just caves!?" said Tolkan, confused and angry. How could his younger brother, the son of Tarmack, speak in such a way of their ancestral home!?
"Nice caves!" said Grimla. "But there's lots more of them. Lots of other land the enemy has made no effort to conquer. We could just...move."
"Are you testing me, Grimla!?" asked Tolkan.
"Err...maybe," said Grimla. "Why, what have you to say to my proposal."
"I say they are fell words from the tongue of a dotard!" said Tolkan.
"Oh," said Grimla.
"The Enemy, for a thousand years we have thought his great horde, so many have died and you would have us give up that war, with the enemy undefeated..."
"The Enemy will always be undefeated! He's a dark God for Durin's sake!"
"Do not take the name of the Lord of the seven fathers of the Dwarrow in vain!"
"Oh piss off!"
"What!? You use the base languge of the human pigscum!"
"Fuck you!"
"Grimla, I will give you one last chance before I cleave your head asunder! You are of the Dwarrow, a dwarf, proud and bearded! Take your axe in your hands, feel the proud dwarf blood FLOW through your dwarf veins!"
"I FEEL NOTHING!" said Grimla, throwing his axe against the cave wall. "It's all so fucking stupid! It doesn't appeal to me, it's never appealed to me and I will NOT become a warrior!"
"YOU WILL DO AS YOUR FATHERS HAVE DONE!" said Tokan. "As Tarmack..."
"Who died..."
"As your older brothers..."
"All dead..."
"AS ALL OF OUR PEOPLE MUST DO! We live to die in defiance of the enemy!"
"Not me, mate!" said Grimla, and he threw the smoke potion his friend the Magic Troll from the hills had prepared for him unto the ground and the smoke confused Tolkan.
"WHERE ARE YOU! I WILL CUT OFF YOUR BEARD!" boomed his brother, as Grimla ran out of the caves and kept running until he reached the hills, where the troll was waiting.
"So you're not going to war then?" said the troll, casually.
"No," said Grimla, beaming under his beard.
"It is good then," said the troll. And they kissed. For she was a maiden troll and Grimla loved her more than axes, ancestral homes, war or honour.
"Aye, it is good," said Grimla.
Grimla checked for a long moment. "It feels cold," he said at last.
"Aye, I'll warrant it is so!" said Tolkan. "Cold steel, forged from flame. And colder still it will feel on the neck of your enemy as you cleave their heads from their bodies!"
"If I ever kill any," said Grimla.
"Of course you will!" said Tolkan. "You are nearly ready to go to war!"
"Should not I, perhaps, stay at home? You know, as a last line of defence for the women and children?" ask Grimla, trying to make it sound conversational.
"Nay," said Tolkan grimly, putting a hand on Grimla's shoulder. "For if we lose in battle to the great Enemy then all hope will be gone and not even the youngest son of Tarmack the great will be able to stand against the Enemy's great forces!"
"They outnumber us ten to one," said Grimla.
"Aye, all the more reason why you and I must join the war soon!"
"Or maybe we should, like...find a new place to live. I mean...this place is nice, but it's just...caves."
"Just caves!?" said Tolkan, confused and angry. How could his younger brother, the son of Tarmack, speak in such a way of their ancestral home!?
"Nice caves!" said Grimla. "But there's lots more of them. Lots of other land the enemy has made no effort to conquer. We could just...move."
"Are you testing me, Grimla!?" asked Tolkan.
"Err...maybe," said Grimla. "Why, what have you to say to my proposal."
"I say they are fell words from the tongue of a dotard!" said Tolkan.
"Oh," said Grimla.
"The Enemy, for a thousand years we have thought his great horde, so many have died and you would have us give up that war, with the enemy undefeated..."
"The Enemy will always be undefeated! He's a dark God for Durin's sake!"
"Do not take the name of the Lord of the seven fathers of the Dwarrow in vain!"
"Oh piss off!"
"What!? You use the base languge of the human pigscum!"
"Fuck you!"
"Grimla, I will give you one last chance before I cleave your head asunder! You are of the Dwarrow, a dwarf, proud and bearded! Take your axe in your hands, feel the proud dwarf blood FLOW through your dwarf veins!"
"I FEEL NOTHING!" said Grimla, throwing his axe against the cave wall. "It's all so fucking stupid! It doesn't appeal to me, it's never appealed to me and I will NOT become a warrior!"
"YOU WILL DO AS YOUR FATHERS HAVE DONE!" said Tokan. "As Tarmack..."
"Who died..."
"As your older brothers..."
"All dead..."
"AS ALL OF OUR PEOPLE MUST DO! We live to die in defiance of the enemy!"
"Not me, mate!" said Grimla, and he threw the smoke potion his friend the Magic Troll from the hills had prepared for him unto the ground and the smoke confused Tolkan.
"WHERE ARE YOU! I WILL CUT OFF YOUR BEARD!" boomed his brother, as Grimla ran out of the caves and kept running until he reached the hills, where the troll was waiting.
"So you're not going to war then?" said the troll, casually.
"No," said Grimla, beaming under his beard.
"It is good then," said the troll. And they kissed. For she was a maiden troll and Grimla loved her more than axes, ancestral homes, war or honour.
"Aye, it is good," said Grimla.
