The Chronicles of Onyx Book One - Dawn of a Hero

Chapter Seven

Onyx struck two pieces of flint together, causing a bright spark to ignite. Within seconds, a small crackling flame emerged, dancing like waves on the ocean. She nurtured it with gentle care, feeding the young fire with small, dry kindling. With each addition of kindling, the flames grew brighter, casting a warm glow that illuminated the surrounding campsite. Soon it was a roaring fire, devouring oak logs with ease.

She got up from her crouched position, and stepped back from the roaring fire. The heat engulfed her for a moment before she found relief in the cooler night air. She watched the flames dance and leap, mesmerized by their wild energy. The crackling and popping of the fire filled the air, creating a symphony of sounds that blended with the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of nocturnal creatures.

Oldren rested against a large log, sipping on a flask he had brung—she assumed it was full of Dwarven Ale.

She too leaned back on a wood log, boredom engulfing her. Rok had been gone almost an hour and she had no one to tease nor talk to. The silence was deafening and Rok had promised her, when they escaped, that he would never leave her in complete silence nor alone. She had spent much of her life in solitude, believing it to be her only option. But Rok had shown her that there was more to life than just surviving, that there could be joy and laughter even in the most challenging of circumstances. He was her shining light that had lightened the darkest part of life.

She glanced over at the drinking dwarf, a small smile spread across her face. "So, what is your story?" Onyx asked, finding a new victim to her—Onyx-ness.

Oldren grumbled in response, taking a swallow from his flask and staring deeply into the burning flames. "Ye don't stop talking, do ya?" he retorted. "Why don't ya enjoy silence for a bit, ye might come to like it."

"I have for most of my life, and I have grown to appreciate the opposite—conversation and connection" she answered, "But on the contrary, yes I do enjoy being alone and encased in silence from time to time" Onyx replied with a playful tone.

The Dwarf raised an eyebrow, seemingly intrigued by her response. "Well then," Oldren said, setting his flask down, "since ye can't resist talking, I suppose I can spare some words." he replied with his friendliest smile.

"I was born, raised, and then—" he picked up his flask and took another drink, "I became a man", he added after he swallowed hard on Ale.

"Wow—what a tale" she sarcastically remarked, "Especially the part where you were born, never saw that coming" she said with a playful grin. "But I have to admit, I'm curious about the space between being born and becoming a man. Surely there's more to it than that!"

The Dwarf's lips twitched with a hint of amusement, and for a moment, the gruff exterior seemed to soften. "Aye, there's more to it, lass," he replied, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. "I come from a long line of warriors, fierce and proud. My clan, the Barrelshoulders, have defended the lands of Khazad-dûm for generations."

He leaned back against the log, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "As a young lad, I was taught the ways of the axe and the hammer," he continued. "I trained day and night, honing my skills, dreaming of the day I would take up arms alongside my kin."

"On the day of my coming of age, I was gifted my first battle axe, forged by my father himself. It was a symbol of my readiness to protect my people and carry on the legacy of the Barrelshoulders. The weight of that axe in my hands was both thrilling and daunting."

Oldren paused, taking another swig from his flask before continuing. "I fought in many battles, facing enemies both monstrous and human. Some were won, and some were lost. But with each conflict, I learned the true cost of war. Lives lost, families torn apart, and the weight of responsibility on my shoulders."

"Eventually, I grew weary of the endless cycle of bloodshed and sought a different path. That's when I opened the tavern," he said, gesturing behind him, to the small town they had left behind. "It became my sanctuary, a place to find solace and peace amidst the chaos of the world."

Onyx listened intently, captivated by Oldren's story. She could sense the weight of his past, the burdens he carried, and the longing for a sense of purpose beyond the battlefield. It was a journey of growth and self-discovery, much like her own.

"Well, you've certainly led an eventful life," Onyx remarked, her playful demeanor now softened with understanding. "Our pasts—It's a reminder that we all carry our pasts with us, shaping who we are today."

Oldren nodded, a mixture of emotions flickering in his light blue eyes. "Aye, that we do," he said, his voice tinged with both sorrow and wisdom. "And sometimes, the company of others can ease the burdens we bear."

Suddenly a soft rustling of leaves came from the woods and emerged Rok from the darkness of the night.

"Where've ye been lad?" Oldren asked with curiosity relevant in his eyes, "Me thought I'd starve to death"

"Hunting" Rok replied dryly, it was clear something was bothering him—Onyx just wasn't sure what it was.

"Well any luck, fluffy?" she asked cheerfully, trying to lift the mood. But instead Rok just lifted his muscular arm to reveal him holding a some-what plump rabbit. He stayed silent, as he cleaned the rabbit, quiet with a torn, unsure look about him.