Shuran was now wearing the same clothes as those on the man in the painting. The applauding began to wane as the King lowered his hands and took his seat. Shuran and Mallick were led up to the dais to seats beside Avrank.
Mallick noticed the painting as they passed and nudged Shuran.
“I see it, just fasten your lips would you. We can talk about it later.” Shuran sat down and smiled out to the court, and readied himself for what was bound to become a feast of discomfort that rivaled his feelings about the clothes.
The feasting itself was not unpleasant, as dwarfs take their eating and drinking quite seriously. The spread before them was vast. Vegetables and fruits of uncountable varieties along with meats from at least a dozen animals filled the tables beyond capacity. Wine and ale flowed freely, and was consumed like water.
Shuran restrained from over indulging in the libations but certainly ate his fill.
Mallick on the other hand was well into his cups speaking boisterously, and with great animation on tales of his experiences since leaving Two Bridges.
Shuran was certain the King would want a private gathering after dinner and suggested that Mallick slow down. This suggestion was met with only the slightest acknowledgment. Although Shuran was not one to take overly of the cup, he had often seen the results of the morning after in Codger. Mallick was going to be sorry in the morn should he keep up this pace is all Shuran could think.
True to Shuran’s assumption, the King bid his guests continue and enjoy the evening while he retired. He then requested Shuran and Mallick join him and his family in the private sitting rooms for dessert. The King wanted a private conference.
The sitting room was far less grandiose than the dining hall. There were simple yet comfortable furnishings, a large fireplace, and a table for private dining.
Vraduun took the largest seat nearest the fire and across from the Queen, then motioned for Shuran to join him. “Shuran, you have not been properly introduced to my lady wife,” King Vraduun said. “Shuran Shin’Ar, may I present the love of my life and just about the finest dwarven maid to have-”
“Oh husband do shut up!” the Queen interrupted. “Shuran Shin’Ar, I am Levdrianda and am so very pleased to see your return,” she said looking from Shuran to the image his double in a painting above the fireplace.
“I must admit the resemblance is uncanny your majesty.” Shuran managed.
“Fiddley Biddles! There is no doubt my boy, you are he, Shin’Ar returned. Why would you have chosen those clothes to wear? How do you explain all your abilities?”
“Your Majesty-“ Shuran started.
“And do stop the hoity-toity monikers and call me Levdrianda.”
“I must admit that a rational answer escapes me your highness…I mean Levdriana.”
The queen smiled broadly at the familiar use of her name.
“And please if we are to speak as the friends I hope to become, call me just, Shuran.”
“Shuran, it is nothing short of prophecy that you should come along now and in the likeness of the Shin’Ar,” Vraduun said. “All the pieces fall into place so you should just accept who are and move onward.”
“I know nothing much of the Shin’Ar. I have full access to the knowledge of the Vault in Durangug, but there were no personal writings among the library volumes,” Shuran admitted.
“Well then, we can fill you in on answers to many questions. I of course was not around five thousand harvests ago but my great grandsire twice over was here and well acquainted with Shin’Ar the first.”
“Is it your grandsire then in all the frescos I have seen?” Shuran asked.
“Many of them yes, my clan’s blood is strong as is our looks. I am the image of my father before me as he was to his and so on,” the King answered.
“The images of my great grandsire two times would be those holding the Menasutur, the ancient war hammer of the dwarfs given our ancestors by the Telukukal, the first people.” Vraduun said with a tinge of sadness.
“After the Menasutur was lost to our people, Vraduun’s ancestor soon died and the dwarfs life spans lessened. Where once we lived in a measure of as much as a thousand and more harvests, to reach five hundred is now rare,” Levdrianda said sadly.
On the other side of the room Mallick was sitting with Avrank talking. “Why does your brother sit alone and treat you the way he does?” Mallick asked glancing at Brakvar sitting alone drinking in the corner.
“Brakvar is proud and stubborn,” Avrank whispered. “My sheesh, was next in line for the throne until I was born and he resents me for it.”
“Forgive my ignorance of dwarf customs, but why would you be named successor?” Mallick questioned.
“It was no decision of my father. Many years had passed without any new dwarven births. As you can imagine with our stunted life spans compared to thousands of years ago, the dwarves do not have the numbers we once did. That changed twenty-five harvests ago when I was born. Since then more dwarf sprats have been birthed than in generations before.”
“And this is good I would imagine?” Mallick pressed.
“It is not a simple answer to say yes.” Avrank continued. Avrank told Mallick of how all the new young were somehow stunted or small at birth even by dwarven standards. The term ‘Tur’ became derogatory, to describe those of the smallest stature. The Dwarven elders however, saw this as an omen for a return to the old days.
In ancient times dwarf young were much smaller at birth and did not reach full growth until well after one hundred years of age. Part of ancient dwarven prophecy has said that a time would come when the dwarven life spans would return to that of those times gone.
“Since I am of the royal line and small, the elders felt I should be placed in succession rather than my sheesh. He was not happy.”
Mallick now understood Brakvar’s resentment. “Perhaps he will grow out of it?” Mallick said.
“I had hoped so but now with the return of the Shin’Ar, the prophecies are coming to pass and it has caused a great divide in my people.” Avrank looked at his brother when he finished to find him glaring back.
“What happened to the hammer?” Shuran asked as he stepped up to look closer at the painting of his doppelgänger and the ancient King of the Dwarves.
“No one knows after the Zidu’Si were dismissed it was gone. We know that this weapon was the first and the Zidu’Si later created other similar weapons. The only other account is a final writing of the then King,” Vraduun said.
“Menasutur Gigi, Mummu Shin’Ar,” he recounted.
Instantly Shuran knew what it meant and realized why so many things were familiar. “War hammer will be returned by the Shin’Ar reborn!” Shuran whispered. In an instant he closed his eyes and reached within himself to that place connected to the Vault in Durangug. He retrieved an item he barely remembered seeing but instantly knew its entire history. Shuran stood before the King of the Dwarfs and his Queen and held out the Menasutur for them to take back.
“How? What? Where?” Vraduun stumbled over the right words then took a long drink from his goblet of ale.
Shuran could see both his confusion, and his joy.
“It has been in the Vault,” Shuran said. “I knew the first time I saw it in the paintings that it was familiar. Although I never saw it in person I have a connection to everything in the Vault and can call it forth at will,” Shuran said and instantly called forth a keg of the ancient wine stored.
“You may want something a bit stronger. Let us drink from the ancient wine stores of Durangug and celebrate the return of what belongs to your people.” Shuran set the keg on the table and an attendant began filling glasses, taking a full gulp for himself to steady his nerves. It is not every day a dwarf sees prophecy fulfilled in person.
As the glasses were passed around, Mallick and Avrank joined the others from their private council. Brakvar finally joined them as well.
“That was quite the gift Shuran!” Mallick said as he patted his friend on the back. “According to the King’s sons you have as much as joined the clan!”
Shuran was confused momentarily when Mallick referred to the King’s sons. This fact quickly made sense, having seen them sitting at the dais during dinner.
“You have dwarven blood to be able to work earth Essence! You could already be of our clan!” Avrank said.
“Shuran Shin’Ar, you have brought great honor and pride to our house by returning the Menasutur. You will be forever a member of my clan.” The King was nearly in tears. As the King held the ancient artifact in his hands he trembled with understanding of what this might mean. “You must return the hammer to its proper place, in the hands of a dwarven Zidu’Si,” he said. “I will call for a ceremony and celebration of both the return of Menasutur and the adoption of Shuran Shin’Ar into our clan. If you would do us that honor Shuran?” Vraduun humbly asked.
“I would consider it a privilege and an honor sir,” Shuran said.
“Excellent, now on to another point of business. What do you know of your father’s quest?” King Vraduun asked.
Shuran was dumbstruck.
Avrank smiled with great pride and excitement.
Brakvar’s expression was blank but Mallick could sense he was not overjoyed at this turn of events.
“What do you know of my adda? I only know he was on some quest and I need to find him or complete what it is he has started,” Shuran spoke in earnest.
“Dalgon was here many years ago,” the King said. “I must now conclude that he was your adda for he spoke of the prophecies and that the seven blood son would call on my house at some future time. All things considered I believe the time is now and you are he!” Vraduun let out a hearty laugh and clinked Shuran’s wine goblet before downing his own.
Shuran woke the next morning sick with drink for the first time. The events of the previous night hit so hard that he turned to the cup for clarity. He realized now how wrong that decision was. He lifted his head from the soft bed and sat up. The fast change in blood flow had an immediate and violent result. Shuran doubled over onto the floor from a spinning head and heaving stomach.
“You look positively green Shuran Shin’Ar,” the chamber man said. “What you need is a good cold bathing. Into the tub, I will clean up what remains of last evening’s festivities.”
Shuran grumbled and crawled to the tub. After struggling to remove his garments, he unceremoniously dumped himself in the bathing tub. The shock of the cold water was evident in the girlish screech that came out. Immediately Shuran called on fire to heat the tub. The resulting effort to weave and the sudden warming of the tub combined to completely relieve his symptoms.
“Now that is better!” he cheered.
The chamber man just laughed and finished cleaning up the pile of sick Shuran left beside his bed.
After finishing his morning ablutions, Shuran dressed in some less formal attire and walked out to the central chamber where he found Mallick nursing a mug of coffee and moaning in discomfort.
“GOOD MORNING!” Shuran shouted.
Mallick threw a biscuit at the object of his auditory assault. “Are you mad?” he spat through clenched teeth.
“Do not order the ale if unable to settle the tab my friend,” Shuran laughed.
“How are you so chippie this morn? You drank as much as I?” Malick asked.
“I simply tolerate the drink better than you,” Shuran answered.
The chamber man exited Shuran’s room and grunted while carrying a bundle of soiled rags.
“What is that smell?” Mallick asked.
“The remains of the young asipu’s tolerance!” the dwarf remarked with humor.
“AH! Truth bender! What herbs did you take?” Mallick demanded.
Shuran just nodded negatively.
Mallick moved to place Shuran in a hold but lost his footing when Shuran dodged and laughed.
“When you pick yourself from the floor you might try stoking the fire.” Shuran inferred.
Mallick did not understand at first but then understanding dawned on him and he turned to the hearth. With an outstretched hand he called to the elemental fire and ignited the logs in the fireplace. Instantly, relief showed on his face. “Ninkashi!” Mallick breathed with a smile.
“How fitting to call out to the Goddess of ale and wine!” Shuran laughed.
A knock on the door broke their shared laughter.
“Come,” Shuran said.
The door opened to reveal Vraduun and Avrank. They entered the room and took seats at the table in the center of the room.
“Good morn my friends, how does this grand day meet you?” Avrank asked as he struggled to get climb into the seat.
“Slowly I would guess from the taste for wine you both had last eve. I could use a bite from the same goat myself this morn,” King Vraduun admitted with a smile followed by a grimace as the chamber man banged the door closed when he exited chuckling.
“Ah, well a bit of weaving burnt threw the sick,” Mallick admitted.