Fragments by SkyEventide

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Naugrim, Casari, Khazâd

Written for the prompt: new-spilled, stumpy, downward, discarded. Featuring Caranthir and dwarves.


« What is the matter, elf lord? »

Carnistir looks downwards at the stout things and their beards, perplexed. « Is it normal for your people to send a group of elders for treating? »

The dwarf stares. « I am barely middle aged. »

Carnistir blinks at the beard. « So you are like the aftercomers. »

« Most certainly not. »

« Short aftercomers. »

The second dwarf to the left takes a breath, turning to his companion, and Carnistir can distinctly hear a whisper, « Why are they all like that? » Carnistir also has the strong feeling that he was meant to hear it, the sentimenti behind it spilling forth.

My lord, his seneschal’s thought tickles his mind, the Doriathrim call them Naugrim.

The Doriathrim call them stunted?

Carnistir lifts an eyebrow – real slow.

« Nevermind, Casari », he says then, with sudden annoyed inspiration, pointedly. « The beards look luscious. My grandfather had a beard, we have it in the family. »

The first dwarf tilts his head. « Now, what fresh word is that, elf lord? »

« Casari? » Carnistir smiles with a touch of smugness. « ‘Tis Quenya. Khazâd is your name, yes? Casari. Let us discard the other one. »

A moment of silence. The dwarves look at each other, then the middle one turns to him again. « Is your grandfather Círdan from the coast? »

« …No. »


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