A Dwarf Without A Roof

A Dwarf With No Roof
The Story of Magnar Greyson
 
"I am not disappointed."
Magnar looked over at his brother hunched over the large stone desk, pretending to be interested in mining charts. He could always tell when Dawlin was lying.
"You are," Magnar said. "And you've a right to be."
Dawlin shrugged. He rolled up the scroll and slid it back on the shelf with the rest. "Fine. But only because you're leaving so soon."
"Father says I'm no longer welcome under his roof." Their father had said worse than that when Magnar had finally worked up the courage to tell him of the dreams he had been having since childhood. Of dreams of lands beyond their mountain home, of tales spoken within his cherished books. He did not tell his father of the dreams of darkness coming for him and the unseen woman's soft voice that spoke of wrath and ruin. Those dreams he kept from everyone, even his brother. "Best I be off before he forgets I'm his eldest son."
"There are other clans that would welcome your skills," Dawlin argued. "That would give you leave to come and go as you please. It's been done before." The words held no conviction. Magnar would have to renounce his name. Both brothers knew that betrayal would break their father's heart.
Magnar walked over to his younger brother and put a hand on his shoulder. "Dawlin, I am sorry for this. Rightfully, this-" He waved his hand at the room with shelves stuffed full of charts, ledgers and accountings. "-should be my burden. You should have had more time to enjoy the luxury of youth."
Dawlin laughed. "Bah. You do know that, in one fell swoop, you've made me one of the richest dwarves under the mountain, yes?"
"I do."
"Then what's your worry? Do you doubt I won't love every endless hour spent up to my arse in shipping schedules and cost overruns? And the labor problems?" He broke into a wide grin that did not reach his eyes. "I can't wait to crack the whip on those lazy bastards."
"And Gwenyth? Father will expect you to marry her to bring the Blackhammers under his wing."
"How could I forget her?" He held his hands wide out in front of his chest.
"It's not her breasts that need concern you. She's a heart like her father." Dawlin started to make a joke but Magnar interrrupted him. "I'm serious. Be careful with her. Her charm only goes skin deep. Once she births you an heir, her true spirit will emerge."
This time his brother’s smile included his eyes. "Then I will give her only girls and save the male half of my seed for a mistress on the side."
"As Torag wills," Magnar said, returning his brother's grin.
"As Torag would." Dawlin walked him to the door. "Will you at least stop to say farewell to Ma? She'll have baked your favorite cakes no doubt."
Magnar nodded. "After I’ve picked up my books. And I'll leave a cake for you."
The two brothers hugged, a long embrace that left neither feeling embarrassed. Dawlin clapped his older brother on the back. "So, you'll be heading to that port city you speak so much about?" When Magnar nodded, he asked, "Where to after that?”
Magnar shrugged his heavy shoulders. "As Torag wills."
"As Torag would." Dawlin wiped some stone dust from his older brother's cloak. "Don't go letting any fancy city women trim your beard or powder you up in their smelly salts."
"And don't let Gwenyth catch you with the innkeep's daughter," Magnar replied. "Else you might greet a morning missing more than your bachelorhood."
"As Torag wills," Dawlin said, laughing.
Magnar turned and headed down the stone stairs for the lonely walk to his parents' home.
"As Torag would," he whispered.