Looking Through Your Eyes

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While Pencaliel and Malachi had busied themselves in the cave, Kolmar took the opportunity to wander down to the pool where he relieved himself of his armor to wash off the sticky goblin blood. It didn't take long, the thick, slimy liquid still moderately fresh, and the dwarf was able to kick his boots off as well to cool off his feet and wet down his thick mane and the back of his neck. Ah, how refreshing. Having finished his toilette, Kolmar threw his boots back on, slung his armor over his shoulder, and clambered up the side of the rocky outcropping to the cave to set his things out by the fire to dry. He'd just succeeded in setting up his cookware over the firepit to prepare a bite to eat when the maiden practically flew out of the cave and disappeared down the hill and into the trees.

His brow cocked but he merely shook his head. It was unlikely to be the result of a quarrel, for the dragonkin did not appear straight away looking like a lost bird. Besides, he'd not heard any shouting and there was no uneasy feeling in his gut. Perhaps something had gone wrong with the haircut and the little maiden was embarrassed. Though why that should cause her that much distress, he could not fathom. Elves. Kolmar untied the meats he'd salted the night before from the side of his pack and sliced them off the string. After another minute or two, just as he'd expected, the familiar shadow of the dragonkin loomed nearby. Kolmar tossed the chunks of meat into the pot and glanced up.

Malachi's haircut had not gone awry, much to the dwarf's amusement. If anything, it only emphasized his son's strong features and made him look less like a traumatized youth. Kolmar liked what he saw. He liked it a lot. Yes, with a steady hand to guide him, Malachi could become a man like no other. A man anyone, especially a grumpy old dwarf, would be proud to call his son.

"Ah, so there was a face under all that mess," Kolmar commented with a slight twitch of a smile.

Unsure of what he'd been expecting from Kolmar, only knowing he needed something important, Mala felt a smile pull at his mouth upon hearing the dwarf's words and while his head ducked down a little in embarrassment, it didn't stop him from reaching up almost tentatively to push his hair back and behind his ear. Looking back at the dwarf, the dragonkin's smile widened until it showed a flash of teeth.

"It feels strange." And it did. The weight was gone and when his wings moved, he couldn't feel the hair snagging on individual feathers. His skin wasn't sure if it missed the swish against his back and the stickiness of having hair stuck to his flesh. It was a new sensation to move his head and feel the shortest strands of his hair brush against his chin and the rest graze at his neck, but he didn't think it a bad feeling.

Pencaliel had liked it and Kolmar seemed to approve as well. Somehow, knowing that eased the nervous knot in his stomach and Mala found himself sinking down beside the fire, watching the dwarf for a moment before he reached out, offering the herbs the Druid had left behind.

"Pencaliel gathered them," was the simple explanation.

"Go ahead and toss them in," Kolmar encouraged with a nod of his head. Then he seemed to think over his answer and to whom this answer was directed. Had Malachi ever cooked before? "Better make sure they all go together first, though. Anything that doesn't smell like it belongs can go back in the satchel for later."

Mala blinked at the instructions, surprised he'd been asked to help at all, but he listened to what Kolmar said intently and when the dwarf was done, the dragonkin gave a nod and looked back down to the herbs in his hand. He tilted his head, unsure how he was supposed to know what 'went together' but decided to give it a try anyway.

Head lowering, he took a sniff of what he had. It was a bit too deep of an inhale because a sneeze immediately followed. Kolmar snorted, biting back a guttural laugh. So much for the glimpse of the proud, strong man he'd had. In his approach to cooking, Malachi was very much like an inquisitive child. He kept his attention on stirring the meat so as not to fluster the dragonkin. Mala wrinkled his nose in a grimace, but tried again, this time far more cautious about his sniff before he started to separate what was in his hand. Perhaps it was just his keen senses, maybe it was a hidden aptitude for cooking that Yuubi would immediately pounce on the next time he saw her, but Mala ended up throwing two kinds of herbs into the pot. They smelled like they would 'go together' to him.

That done, he carefully tucked the rest away into the pack Kolmar had indicated, a thoughtful look on his face as he settled again, his arms on his knees, and glanced toward the dwarf, eyes questioning, head tilting.

"Athair," He didn't think twice about the word or uttering it, going on without pause. "I know Pencaliel and I go together, but....I am unsure....how." He knew the wording was wrong the moment it came out and quickly tried again, determined to make sure he was understood. This was important, too important to get wrong.

"I mean, we are to be married and I want to be, but I don't know how. I know my own people, the Sidhe, I know their ways, but it's not....not Peni's way. I want to know her way."

Kolmar paused mid-stir to consider Malachi's awkwardly worded question. The unfamiliar word didn't phase him, the older dwarf correctly suspecting it a form of address to himself. His brow furrowed instead on working out what his son was asking. In truth, Kolmar was not sure what "Peni's way" would be either. There was no home for her to wait in, no father to guard the doorway and challenge the claim to his daughter, no townsfolk to toss flower petals and fill the forest with songs and laughter. There was no home for Malachi to lead her to, no wine to make toasts and pronounce blessings. If the maiden was determined to wed Malachi tonight, it would not be in the way of her people, the Elves. It truly would be "Peni's way" and he had a feeling not even Nekia would be able to guess just what the maiden had in mind.

The dwarf sighed and tapped his ladle on the edge of the pot before hooking it over the handle. He did not want to disappoint Malachi with a non-answer but he found it was the only answer he could give. "Only Pencaliel can answer that question," Kolmar told him truthfully. "I can only tell you that if you truly plan to wed before the day is over, it will be under the authority of the last Druid and she alone knows her own mind." He met the dragonkin's gaze and offered him a reassuring grin. "I will be just as clueless as you are."

Then another thought struck and caused him to pause in contemplation. Only a few days ago Malachi was seriously considering running away, scared and worried about his father's influence. Only a few days ago he'd been freed from this burden and Kolmar had finally gained his long-awaited son. He'd only just begun to stabilize and find himself while the elf struggled more and more with who she was and the instability she'd been introduced to. And now the dragonkin was suddenly on the brink of marriage with her, a decision which would prove to either bring more stability or toss him into a new wave of chaos. The dwarf's heavy hand surged forward to clap his son's shoulder. Blue eyes looked deeply into gold and his voice dropped into a hushed, serious tone.

"Malachi, are you sure about this? Is it your idea as well as hers to rush into this decision? You have been through much lately, more than I can ever know, and you have only just begun to find your balance. Are you truly ready to bind yourself? Do you believe Pencaliel is truly ready for this step as well?"

He asked this not because he was loathe to share his new son, nor from anxiety, but out of genuine care for the health and well-being of the lad sitting before him. In true fatherly fashion, Malachi's happiness and needs far outweighed the whispers of regret that this should come so soon after just finding him. They still had so much to learn about each other and it would come in time, mate or no mate.
 
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Not the response he'd wanted - though, Mala wasn't sure what he'd expected - but it wasn't a bad response and somehow Kolmar made the lack of knowledge all right with his demeanor. He was right, Pencaliel knew what she wanted and if she wanted something from him, she'd tell him. His little elf was good at speaking her mind and far more proficient about it when she'd set her thoughts to something.

He didn't have to worry, but all the same, the nervousness in his stomach didn't abate completely and the dragonkin was almost grateful for the distraction Kolmar presented when he decided to change the subject to something far more solemn, but thankfully not alarming.

Where once the contact from the dwarf would have made the half-blood flinch - if he didn't outright jump back, terrified - it now brought nothing but a surge of comfort. It was understood for the approval and acceptance it was, the concerned undertone caught as well. It was the touch of a father when Mala had never known one, but just as he'd soaked up the affection from Pencaliel, even now he did the same with Kolmar and he listened to what his father had to say with attentive ears.

Upon Kolmar's completion of his questions, Mala seemed to glance away for a breath, clearly thinking, but perhaps not in the way the dwarf would assume - in question or hesitation - for when gold eyes once again met blue, it was the dragonkin who looked back so deeply into Kolmar's eyes.

"I am sure." Three simple words, but they carried just as much weight as the dwarf's hand on his shoulder did and it seemed some light stirred in Mala's eyes, twin suns deciding to grace the world with their glow. It was not quite Man who looked so steadily at his father, but it certainly wasn't Child or Animal either, seeming to contain all three and more besides, a Knowing the dragonkin couldn't hide. Everything within him aligned in that breathless moment before Mala spoke again.

"I have known for a great time now that I am meant to be with Pencaliel, but I never understood how. Not until now. It was I who asked her for this union." He smiled, just a little, and the light in his eyes flared. "She is ready and so am I. With all we have gone through, apart and together, I know facing all that is still to come will be far better with her."

Mala reached up then, his hand covering Kolmar's, one of the first times he'd initiated such a contact between them and this time it was the dragonkin who seemed to counsel the dwarf, to reassure. "I know Pencaliel is struggling. I can feel the Darkness inside her just as keenly as I could feel it in myself, just as I feel it in the things around me. I am not blind to her pain, but I would fight it with her, as she did for me and I would have her understand without doubt that I will not leave and she is not to leave me. We both understand what this step means and we both want to take it together. We have always been stronger together, as we were meant to be."

A smile crossed the dragonkin's face then and though the glow in his eyes left, a different kind of happy brightness replaced it and Mala's voice was both completely adoring and yet slightly shy in admitting it. "I love her, Athair. I want to be with her. Forever."
 
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The depth and sincerity in Malachi’s answer was enough to reassure Kolmar that this was a step he could endorse. Now the only remaining mystery was why the maiden was so eager for this to happen now, tonight. Why could it not wait for the morning? His son’s hand sat heavy and hot on his own, distracting his thoughts. Malachi had reached out to him. Consciously? Unconsciously? Did it matter? His gesture had been reciprocated, though not in the correct way. Well, not in the way a true dwarven warrior should. Malachi was no dwarf, but if he claimed Kolmar as a father then the dragonkin was a son of dwarves and deserved to know the meanings behind such gestures. Simple things like a hand grip could speak of a warrior's stature and merit, and these things should be important to a son of Kolmar.

How to teach Malachi the actions of his new people without rejecting this eagerness to connect?

When Malachi's words ceased Kolmar nodded slowly, allowing the action to give him time to mull through how he should teach this lesson. Finally, the dwarf moved his free hand to close over Malachi's wrist and calmly but firmly dragged it back until the claw-tipped fingers rested across his own wrist.

"This is the grip of a warrior of our people," he informed him, now tightening his hand briefly on Malachi's wrist to demonstrate. Then he removed it and continued, “For a dwarf, a handshake is more than a welcoming gesture. We grip the forearm to test the other's strength and to attest to our mutual bond and respect for our fellow man. The wrist, the elbow, the shoulder, these are the weak points of a warrior. We cover the joint as a sign of vulnerability and trust between giver and receiver. It speaks... of the bond between a father and his son."

---

Meanwhile, Pencaliel roamed the sparsely-treed terrain in search of anything growing that could be made into a bridal circlet. Leaves clung to scrawny branches, resilient in the face of the harsh autumn winds. Mountain's Lace peeked out from around tree trunks, but the wide, round heads of the flower showed more green than lacey white as the tiny heads closed for the night. There weren't many other options, though. Tall, purple flowers poked out in shoots but their stems did not look supple enough to bend into a circlet. Tiny, yellow buds covered ground and rock alike but again, their short stems were not suitable for twining into a circlet.

Why couldn't there be roses or buttercups on mountain tops? Pencaliel tossed a handful of leaves away and huffed in frustration. More Mountain's Lace. There was definitely plenty of that. "If they have the kind of stem I need..." Her ears perked up as an idea took hold and her brown eyes glinted with excitement. She dropped to her knees and began clawing away the dirt to loosen the earth around the flowers so she could extract them as intact as possible.

"I'll use you to form the base," she informed one of the flowers as she plucked it from the ground and held it up for inspection, "and then I will add colour with the others!" After collecting a good handful of Mountain's Lace, Pencaliel scurried over to a bright patch of the yellow flowers covering a large boulder. Purple flowers shot up around the base of it and she dug out a couple of them as well. There was no good place to hold her growing collection of flower buds and stems, so she held out the bottom of her blouse and piled them in. When she was satisfied with her collection, Pencaliel got to her feet again and trotted back to the cave, her features beaming with achievement. She would be a proper bride after all!

Mala and Kolmar were in deep conversation, or so it appeared, when she re-emerged from the woods. Pencaliel was glad, for it meant she could sneak back into the shallow cave without drawing attention to herself. As soon as she slipped inside, the elf knelt down on the cave floor and spread out her treasures to construct her circlet. The brilliantly coloured amaranth Mala had given her earlier was picked up and lovingly placed in the middle of her piles. This would be the front of her circlet. Then with tongue between teeth, Pencaliel began twisting stems together to form the skeleton of her circlet.

She had to be quick about it. Twilight grew thick in the air and soon she would be without light. It had taken her longer to find flowers than she had anticipated and it was nearly dusk already when they had first arrived at the cave. By the time she stuffed the last purple bloom in-between the Mountain's Lace stems, she could barely distinguish her fingers from the darkness. Pencaliel hoped the circlet looked as nice as she pictured it being. Setting the circlet against the wall of the cave so it wouldn't accidentally be stepped on, she dusted her hands off on her breeches and got up to join Mala and Kolmar by the fire. Whatever the dwarf was cooking, it smelled wonderful. Her stomach growled.

Nekia would be back by now. She had to be. Pencaliel had some questions to ask before any marrying could take place and Mala definitely needed to marry her tonight. They had kissed. Multiple times. Warmth rushed down her spine and tingled in her toes at the recollection and Pencaliel wrapped her arms around her middle in a giggly, hazy hug of delight. Mala's kisses were like- like nothing she had ever experienced before. Like the summer sun pouring down through gently swaying leaves to warm her skin, like the pitter-patter of rain on her cottage roof as she curled up in her blankets to sleep, like the fragrance of...

The elf maid opened her eyes-- when had she closed them?-- and softly laughed at herself. What was she doing comparing them when she could go get them! Shaking her head at her silliness, Pencaliel dashed out of the cave and hopped down the rocky slope to where Kolmar had set up the campfire on relatively even ground. Though it was too dark to be sure of her footing, her heart was so light and yet so full at the same time she practically flew across the rocky ground. She skidded to a halt just inside the orange glow from the firelight and plopped down next to the dragonkin. Her eyes found his easily and a smile blossomed across her features.

"Hi," she said a little breathlessly.
 
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