As I think of our younger days in the humid forests of Sídhe, where the trees were as tall as giants and laughs louder than their footsteps I seek for that warmth even now in the crevasses of my mind. Sindri has always been there as I have been with him. Nearly inseparable, we were and the confines of duty and job simply faded in the existence as the eye of the storm forever shielded us of threat and new rule that hungered for knowledge.
Sindri, a dwarf who had made quite a social climb after a weapon made to tuck in the God of Thunder’s hand reaches me often. His hair is long and braided but still neatly tucked behind his ears and his brown eyes swirled with a spark of inspiration that truly matched the name Eitri. He fiddled and scuffed the tips of his shoes in the dirt, not so bothered by whatever king snatches his time but rather the lack of it spent here.
“I wish I could see you more,” he says clearly downtrodden,“it’s just all of these things. I don’t have control over them. I love my job and I love—” Sindri paused and shakes his head of whatever confession begged to be released.
“You got what you wanted right? This is what you were dreaming about…” I inched closer to reach but I halt my movement when his gaze tears away like a page furiously torn from a book.
“Yes, I dreamt of causing mass destruction and losing my brother,” he replies sarcastically,“We’re not talking. We haven’t talked. It’s not like I’d want to, anyways. He’s a no good ditz and ridiculous pain in my neck.” He huffs as the distain for his brother seeps out of his mouth like fiery molten lava, each word burning a trail and the bridge that kept them connected.
“I’m sure the two of you will regain something someday, Sindri.” I tried to be hopeful but the way his sharp gaze pierced right through me makes me nervous. Then when he realizes his harshness was misplaced, he melts and cautiously meets me in the middle to not hold my hands but hover over them. The energy brimming within his palms is felt and I swallow to keep anything else I wished to say down.
“At least you understand me, Faith. I don’t know if Brok and I will ever will regain something but …I’m glad you’re here, even if I had possibly made one of the worst mistakes of my life.”
“Wanting that name for yourself will forever depend on those who tell your story but it doesn’t define who you truly are. It’s never late to change your fate.” I smiled and he rolls his shoulders, armor clattering as he did.
“Hah, yeah, fate. I never really believed in it. Maybe …meeting you was, though.” He flushed as the confession fumbled out of his mouth. The words fall and it only furthers my smile.
“I like that. Forged fate sound good?” I chuckled and he can only shake his head with a smile I only discerned as amusement.
“Does it really have a ring to it? I’m not too sure.”
“Guess that’s for the people to decide.”
Sindri’s hands were gentle as they took mine. I traced the leather of his gauntlets with love, seeking to that each of those foreign leaves at the cuffs were thoroughly traced and touched. Whatever anger left him was long gone replaced with a soothing balm of calm.
“I suppose you are right. They won’t know what we do though. Dwarves have to keep up their reputation of mystery, you see.”
I pressed a kiss to his forehead, docile and loving. It catching him off guard to briefly tense and relax with a soft sigh. I smile against his warm skin and it wasn’t because of the weather that fogged at our feet in thick grasses.
“Of course, beloved. Of course.”
