The Dwarf stopped the tears as he looked around. The place returned to normal as he pulled a worn, black hood over his tear-drenched face.
He went to the bar and sat, re-thinking the previous ten minutes. "My brother has died, and so has my life-long friend. What is there left for me?" he moaned.
"There is nothing. I must go, and be with my brother and my companion. I will go into the Misty Mountains, and I will die with honor. I will die fighting the fiercest of storms."
The Dwarf was crazed. He knew nothing right and sacred now. He was angry and dumbstruck, like a dragon deep inside of him had been awoken.
He stood up straight, fire in his eyes. He ordered a drink, and then another, and gulping them all down he stomped out of the Green Dragon to sit outside and weep.
[ June 30, 2003: Message edited by: Theoric Windcaller ]
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Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens... -The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers: Book 2, Chapter 3)
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