As I said I have become inspired by the discussion about Snorri's legacy in the future.
I started writing before the last update+vote hence the Gronti.
The omake is set in the future, either in the age of men or later, I kept the timing intentionally vague to compensate for my lack of familiarity with the setting.
without further ado -
Borin is so nervous his hands shake. His adoption into Clan Firehelm, long in the past now, was a calmer affair. Now he felt almost ill with nerves, only Zinda blow smacking his hand away from his beard prevents the ruin of the past day's work. Longer than he is tall, it almost shines silver.
"tagging your beard with those hands?" she sniffs, " are you trying to ruin my work?! Present yourself before the ancestors with your beard like an unkempt nest?".
Borin barely hears his wife's grumbling, he can tell her heart isn't really in it. To fortify himself he pulls deeply from his tankard while thinking of Dolgi and Fjolla, "should have called them both Snorri"; he blurts, damn nerves.
"Are you going to start with this again?" he can feel the echo of his second favorite pick hitting his skull.
Understanding when to leave a collapsing mine shaft is a critical skill, one he mastered, "the beard looks much better now Dear.",
It's an old argument, one he lost ages ago. He wanted to call all the kids Snorri, Zinda didn't. Besides scolding a Snorri didn't feel right.
There is only one thing to do. "I'm going to the foundling wards''; not really into them as it would not do to disturb the beardlings, the outer hall is his true goal. Borin feels Zinda's fingers intervene with his, and they set out down memory lane.
*****
Thud thud thud
Borin can't sleep. Used to the feeling of uncertainty its absence is disturbing. He is excited, happy, confused. One of the elders proclaimed his effort in the mines, "not shoddy"; giving him the pick he hugged now.
Thud thud thud
Giving Masters Snorri toy to the new plaitling Zinda today of all days, she looked like she needed it, with those big eyes red from crying.
He was one of the oldest in the ward, it was proper, but tonight he needed the most stable thing he knew in life near him.
Thud thud thud
The faint sound of a beating heart calms him, it's an open secret of the wards, you can only hear it sometimes at night when it is quiet, the elders either don't notice or believe its the beardlings hearts they hear.
The beardlings are sure it masters Snorri's gift, to make them dream half-remembered memories from before the foundling wards.
Thud thud thud
"bah"; Borin grumbles quietly as he gets out of bed, he pauses briefly, that didn't sound right, he should practice more, not enough gravel in it.
The Hold is quieter than usual, Grobi attacks again, most of the elders are busy on the walls or otherwise occupied with the siege.
Thud thud thud
After sneaking into the outer hall of the wards with his new pick, Borin gazes up into the face of Grimnir, made by master Snorri, it's a different depiction then elsewhere but who can argue with a dwarf that seen the ancestor with his own eyes?
Pristine in its whiteness a Dwarf dressed for War, Borin can't find the words. Legend is, that master Dolgi insisted it will be placed here, "if it's not working, might as well inspire a sense of safety in the beardlings";
Borin is mesmerized, his heart beats in tandem to the sound.
Thud thud thud
He is awakened by the horn, afterward it's all a blur. Grobi in the hold. nearby.
Thud thud thud
Something strikes the doors to the hall, and then again.
A Green thing leers at him, it's huge, with crooked teeth a massive slab of metal in its hand. dripping blood. behind the Grobi he sees a slain guard and a sea of green. More Grobi.
"Wot we 'eve 'er?", it says while leaning forward, its bloody hand leaves a mark on Grimnir's white shoulder as it leans towards Borin.
All Borin can see is the red mark on the pristine depiction of Grimnir.
The reds spread in his vision, to mar the statue so is unforgivable.
Thud thud thud
Someone bellows a warcry and Borin charges forward pick held high.
Grimnir's axe is faster. The Gronti turns smoothly decapitating the Warboss, for a moment there is a silence and then the Gronti steps forward, the blood marring it is gone.
Thud thud thud
*****
Borin gazes upwards at the whiteness of the Gronti, it had been many years and many fights since, he was never as badly equipped or trained. Never as fearless, Who would know fear when Grimnir is leading?
The ward was emptied that night, armed with hammers and picks made for practice they followed the Gronti.
Later the longbeards would grumble that they mainly made a ruckus, so much so that the greenskins believed a throng came out of hiding. If there was a note of respect in the grumbling it was mostly unnoticed by the foundlings.
After gazing at Grimnir for while Borin feels brave enough. He goes to the Headquarters of the miners guild, he is not late but there is already a large crowd assembled, mainly miners and runesmiths. and foundlings.
With great solemnity, the guild head gives him The Pick. You pretend not to notice the runesmith wringing his hands, "Can't be fixed no more, the pick will hold for 500 more strikes at most". poor lad, living down the shame of not being able to fix a pick made by master Snorri. A pick that made the Underway a pick that moved the earth.
Borin nods, his throat is too constricted to talk and goes down to the mines.
He strikes and then, again and again, the familiar motion calms him and he hums an old miners song as he works. if he shed a tear or two there is no one to see.
Another master's work would be locked in a vault, master Snorri would have wanted to contribute to the hold and so - strike.
****
"BAH!" Borin comes out of the shaft, now that a proper sound, gravel? "BAH!" you need to put stones in it," held for 1500 strikes!".
