There is, as there always was, a fire within him. E'er tended to was this flame--- a source of all things that kept the forges of his heart e'er beating like the steady pounding of a hammer to an anvil. It was there-- in the beating of his heart-- that served as the rhythm in all songs sung low and deep in tongue only they knew. A persistence-- an endurance-- perhaps even a defiance-- of keeping all that once was still alive, despite all odds. And though he did not live to see the great perils of his forebears, FĂli was living proof that all was not lost. Heir, Prince, a promise, a future. He, along with his kin, would keep the flame e'er lit, for one day, the fire in the forges of his (and their) hearts, would light the forges that lay dormant in the Mountain.
It was duty to kin that brought him this way, for FĂli had long since taken to the forges in his father's footsteps. Long hours crafting weapons and wares that he could barter for his family's peace of mind. All those years ago, his father set out on a journey not unlike FĂli's to barter and trade for their lives. He did not return, and thus a strapling grew up much faster than most to pick up where he left off. And so it was that FĂli took to travelling--- down through the Blue Mountains to seek any who might pay a fair price.
With his pack a wee bit lighter after a day's worth of bartering, FĂli sheltered here in this tavern amongst many Longbeards, and one of the Firebeards to the south. Through trade, they kept together, though the Firebeards were in the songs FĂli sung, for their histories were indeed woven together. A shared suffering. A shared sense of having to shelter together in places ere they were cast elsewhere to survive in far off places. The places they had since settled now in the Blue Mountains.
It was not lost upon him that this Firebeard, though still at home in the Blue Mountains, had traveled north well beyond her home. And it was this knowledge that prompted such words previously spoken. Different homes, different kin, but a shared painful past they bore together. Aye, he could drink to that. And just as FĂli had lowered his tankard, her next words came. He hummed lowly, a vibration deep in his chest, and the corner of his lip twitched. The dimples on his cheeks were long lost to his beard, but if had they been visible, they would have been present then.
"Perhaps that pain, too, is halved, for I am not the only one drinking ale tonight." He nodded to the tankard in her hands before taking another swallow from his own. A playful smile--- all lip, no teeth--- lingered on his face for half a moment. It was their way, he supposed. To live with the past, however painful, yet find room for merriment such as this.
"Aye, I am FĂli, son of DĂs," he returned her greeting with a nod of his own. The Red Peak sounded familiar to him from word of mouth only. Perhaps triggering some memory of his father's own bartering from days long past. "You have come far North, Asunn. What brings you this way tonight?"
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