To Rûndis, my Moonlight,
Yesterday we reached the fortress of Ost Guruth, out East in the Lone-Lands. The Eglain are not the most outgoing people, but they welcomed us with open arms at the prospect of Dwarven coin and stories of reclaimed honour. It seems Frimsi has had his fair share of dealings with these people, and are on quite friendly terms. It was not a particularly comfortable camping location, but it certainly beat staying out in the cold, so we are thankful.
Something quite peculiar happened later in the evening. We heard loud steps as the clanking of heavy armour approached, and the tired pants of a dog greeted us along with the Dwarf with the whitest beard I have ever seen! He introduced himself as Braudin. It was that Braudin, the one from the stories!
He was really excited when Frimsi mentioned our expedition to Khazad-dûm, although not in the way I had expected. He thought our goal was to drive out every last Goblin still remaining in our lost Halls! When I explained our actual mission he was very disappointed. Even worse than that, he was furious! He called us cowards to our faces!
He simply refused to listen, and took us for a band of cowardly sneaks and petty burglars. Before any of us could speak our minds, Kharsi rose up to the occasion and challenged him to a duel, to prove we are no cowards at all!
As is customary, bets started popping up left and right. Frimsi bet twenty silver coins on Braudin’s victory, but I trusted our boy. I knew Kharsi would win without a sweat! Of course, I took that bet.
Narali could not bear the sight of violence among Dwarves, and so she stepped away. Thorlaen predicted a draw between the two, which both Frimsi and I thought impossible, although for different reasons.
The duel did not start on the friendliest of terms. Insults were thrown around, and they growled at each other. Braudin was eager to prove that no coward could ever hope to stand their ground to his battle experience, and Kharsi was ready to show him just how wrong he was. On the account of us being cowards, I mean. (Note: rewrite this later, this came out weird)
Every day it is more obvious that Kharsi is becoming his own Dwarf. I taught him how to wield his axe —and his head—, but he has developed quite a few techniques of his own. You should have seen how he uses his shield, and not only defensively! At times he used it even more than his axe!
At any rate, blows were dealt from both sides. Braudin was surprisingly fast, for his age, much more so than I am! But he met his match in Kharsi’s stubborness, and his refusal to go down even after many blows. That old goat really came to fear the blunt end of Kharsi’s axe! He does not need to know I called him an old goat, though.
The battle carried on for a few minutes. When both of them were drenched in sweat, and it looked like they were ready to deal the final, devastating blow, Kharsi stretched out his hand. Braudin seemed to wind up a punch, but instead he vigorously shook Kharsi’s hand, and went back on what he had said earlier. He conceded that Kharsi was indeed an honourable and brave warrior, and that if we were even half the Dwarves he was, our Expedition was indeed a worthy quest!
Kharsi has always been great at making friends.
Love,
Your Thrarfi.
