Valaith's question carries more weight than her words alone and the dwarf’s blue eyes narrow slightly. He meets the barbarian's stare, stroking one calloused thumb across the edge of his beard clasp.
"Aye," he rumbles in a matter-of-fact tone. "The name's Thorek Ironbinder. Runesmith, like my father and his father before him. If ye've come t'me door askin' that, then ye've not wandered here by accident."
His eyes flick up and down Valaith's massive frame, taking in the frost-bitten set of her features and the great hammer hanging across her back. There’s a faint twitch in the corner of his mouth, almost a smile, but not quite.
"That’s no common hammer ye carry. Even from here, I can feel it breathin' quiet, waitin' to be given voice. Hnh. So, tell me, giantkin, what is it ye're after? A rune etched for strength? For blood?"
Val watches Thorek for several minutes, gauging him. "Truly? I am not sure. My brother could make runes, give them power and life. I want to learn to do the things he could do. As for this," she grabs Rook and holds it out between them. "This is Rook, it was my brother's and our father's before his, and his father's before. It is complicated."
Val watches Thorek for several minutes, gauging him. "Truly? I am not sure. My brother could make runes, give them power and life. I want to learn to do the things he could do. As for this," she grabs Rook and holds it out between them. "This is Rook, it was my brother's and our father's before his, and his father's before. It is complicated."
Valaith "Rimehand" Kalukavi - Chronicles of Arden