Shame & Atonement

Einkil's Story

"Einkil, son of Beinir! By Tor’s beard, will you not listen to reason?"

The older dwarf stood in the archway of the smithy, and Einkil knew he would not move without a response. He hammered the metal twice more to ensure it would not cool in an unsatisfactory shape, and laid it aside. "Reason I have heard aplenty, Haakon son of Gudmund. ‘Reason’ is what our tribe calls parlaying with Gnarlak" – he spat the name – "and his ilk.‘Reason’ is what kept me abed for these past three weeks." At this, he pulled aside his beard, showing a red, shiny scar running from below his left nipple to just below his right shoulder blade. "Ask Beinir what he thinks of reason, when you meet him in Tor’s forge once more!" He picked up his tongs to reheat his work.

Haakon rolled his eyes. "You know as well as I that the orcs are twenty to our one! Parlay was the only option Jarl Otkel saw before him! If he had known that Gnarlak had no intention of honor" – his words were cut off by the ringing of Einkil’s hammer on the steel, shaping the metal into the large axe head. He waited, his patience thin, until the smith finished his work. "– no intention of honoring the truce, we would have used it only to buy time so that we might do what we now must anyway."

"First we seek peace with blood enemies, showing less sense than green slime caught in the sun. Now we shall go off skulking into the darkness, never to be able to show are faces among decent dwarves again. These are what are called options in this modern age." Using tongs, he buried the new axe head in a powdery substance.

"Einkil, I was brother to your father. I was there to celebrate your first whisker. I am as close to you as blood could make us. Tell me, Einkil son of Beinir, what would you have us do? Gnarlak overruns us even now. We cannot unwrite what is in stone."

"I cannot say what I would ask of the clan now. Were it for me to say, I would have made sure we took at least three of Gnarlak’s for each of us that fell. Better to be wiped from the mines and sung into immortality than to hang our heads as if we’d been clean-shaven!" He paused, taking a moment to inspect his hammer. Haakon noticed that it seemed heavier than the usual for a smithy, better suited for a weapon. "But I will not leave here, tail between my legs, to join my clan in shame. My shame shall feed my rage, Haakon, and Gnarlak’s brood, though they may spill my blood, will not find me the easy mark our clan has become!"

Haakon stiffened at the insult. "You dare to belittle your clan –" but Einkil cut him off. "I have no clan!" he roared. "My clan was sold to orcs in the name of ‘reason!’" Pulling the cooled axe head out and dusting it off, he roughly put it into his waiting pack. His hammer would have to suffice this day. Haakon opened his mouth to speak, but both heard the distant sound of battle. Einkil’s faced broke into a grin which was disturbing, at best. "You’d best go with your reasonable clansmen, Haakon, son of Gudmund. Defend your hide, for it’s all that’s left you!" Haakon again opened his mouth, but decided the better of it, and left without a word.

Strapping a buckler to his arm, Einkil swung his pack over his shoulder. As he hefted his smith’s hammer, he listened to the sounds of battle coming closer. At the same time, he watched the shame of his clan flash before his eyes. With a bellow, he ran towards the fray.