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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.
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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