„Oh, don't think they're worried about me going anywhere.“ Both Elum laughed at that. But it was a grim thing – because they both knew that there would come a day where they'd be forced to leave the old guy by the side of the road. It would be here if the gods were kind.

Might be a year, might be twenty – but sure as Wagons – no wheel turned forever.

„Was actually thinking how I should be laid out when the meat quits on me.“ Turned to Xenovia, neck cracking with the movement.

„What do you think?“
 
Quite the conversation to have this early in the afternoon. Better than leaving it until it was too late, though. 'I don't know,' said Xen, shaking her head. 'Build you a cairn, maybe. That way we can always pay you a visit, and not have to worry about Undead Gordar popping up to say hi.'

Seemed kind of morbid, talking about a man's death when he was still very much alive.

Wetting her lips with a sip of wine, Xen shrugged, listening as the wind whispered through the grasses, as if sharing its own opinion. 'Could always burn you, take you with us.' A few hundred thousand miles more. Until the Wagons rotted and the wheels fell off for good. 'I don't know,' she said again, her eyes lowering, head canting this way and that. 'What do Elum usually do when they say goodbye to loved ones?'
 
Hah hah hah

Laughing was effort now – because some of the jiggly bits had forgotten their proper selves. And even a hairline crack was felt through the structure entire.

But that wasn't how dwarves died. They didn't need a cairn or flame – they simply turned to stone. Gordar figured if any actually managed to become undead, they'd be terrifying. One of the good things about handling the undead was how fragile they were. Wasn't a problem runefolk shared.

If his spirit got real cheeky – perhaps a lord could place him in a banquet hall as a statue. That would be funny – an old, stern dwarf – judging your diet, counting mouthfuls.

„People that loved you gather over your body.“ It would be fitting if his story ended here – but the world was rarely fitting. „Burn your bones. And give you your finalname...“ Wondered what burning his stoneform would do, short of giving him blacker socks. „Because sometimes, the person that we say goodbye to, isn't the same one we lived with.“

Didn't ask about Crown's Hold. They could do whatever they wanted with their dead. The living were his concern.
 
'Sounds... nice,' replied Xen, not sure what else to say. Where she came from, dying of old age was considered a rare blessing. More likely you'd end your days with a knife planted in your belly or back. Cold winters, sickness, substance abuse. Drink and scratch went for coppers in the Sink. Dregs for the dregs.

'Nevermind your finalname, Gordar, what about your firstname? Tell us about the person who gave it to you!'

Maybe they could try for something light this time. Something to lift spirits and raise smiles. It was clear the two Elum didn't want to dwell without her. Xen didn't much want to dwell either.

Her tail flicked out to brush Vyn's as she waited, wine in hand, firefly eyes fixed on the yet-to-be stoneman. 'You've lived a long time,' she hazarded a guess, having never met let alone seen a dwarf so venerable. 'Vyn tells good tales. But I'd like to hear some of yours, if'n you've the time,' she teased, a little of her old brightness shining through.
 
Gordar smiled and revealed his top right canine was missing. Story went he lost it when he gained the nickname, and everyone's trust. Vyn halfexpected to hear that same story regurgitated back – but when she thought more of it – Gordar never told that one himself. It was always someone else. Someone who talked like they were there. Or someone who actually was – like Eluna.

„Named for Gorren and Darrah. Couldn't agree which ancestor to name me after, so they just split the difference.“ A stone cracked, inside. Laugh shortlived. „Got off easy. My sister Rahren...wasn't as lucky. Couldn't roll her Rs until she was twelve.“ He looked to the north at that point. Everyone knew he was a northerner – but he never cared to elaborate. No family ever visited. „Imagine being mocked by guys who can't read, but sure can Rrr their way out the door.“

Sounded like nothing at all. But, to Vyn, it was everything. Because this wasn't a teaching. This was a new story only the two of them had heard before. So she kept quiet as the grass, hoping more would come out.

But the Road had to go. Past wasn't different.

„How'd they name you?“ Took another swig like his throat was dry. And maybe it was.
 
'Children can be cruel.' Xen nodded in understanding, thinking back on her life, and all the nasty little runts she'd shared a neighbourhood with. Humans and half-elves and orkin. A mixed bunch, to say the least.

'My name?' Xen's eyes widened in surprise. 'Well, I, um...'

Glancing at Vyn, Xen blinked, surprised anyone would take an interest in her name, especially someone so venerated as Gordar. 'There's not much to it, really. My parents liked the name and that was that,' she shrugged, smiled, unsure whether to be embarrassed or amused. 'I'm told my name means "Protector" or "She Who Protects" in the Old Tongue. Somewhat fitting, I s'pose, considerin' my pa served in the City Watch for... well, years!'

His deeds were his own, though, seeing as Xen hadn't done much protecting. Not that she could remember, anyhow.

'Why Vyn?' Toying with the wine bottle in her hands, Xen turned to regard her friend, who, for some strange reason, was being awfully quiet. 'Why not Aubrin?'
 
Vyn's ears perked up at that, a question she'd often wanted to ask. Words neve quite made it out.

„Because Audrin's the name I gave her.“ Shrugged. „Others may call her Vynella, but that's not her full name.“

Vyn had long since noticed how all of the older members of the Wagons refused to use that name, even though it was her name. She was always Vynella – and then, when she was old enough – she wanted to be Vyn, so they indulged her.

„So why did you name me that?“
„Why indeed?“ Another sip, too practiced.
 
Xen watched the pair closely, brow furrowed, confusion writ in the way her eyes flicked from one to the other. 'Indeed, why?' The Deva couldn't help but be curious. Sure, Gordar probably had his reasons for being so evasive, but stonemen made for poor dancers, and she wouldn't let him pirouette his way out of this one.

'Is there something wrong with it?'

A name given, and then rescinded? Seemed kind of odd. Suspicious, even. Xen supposed that was on par for the Elum, though, she liked the Waggoners. Trusted them to do right by her, so long as she endeavoured to do the same.

'Doesn't Vyn have the right to know? It's her name. One of many, apparently.'
 
„You think names are just letters?“ Fingered the toothgap, amused. „Some sounds you make so the right person turns their head? Suppose they are.“

Pocketed the flask. It had been well past enough. His tongue had gotten loose.

„Some names given are understood today. Some you have to grow into.“

Looked at the three children next to him. Felt so old.

„They may name you too, Xenovia – one day.“ Remembered how sketched out he was about the whole naming business, back when they gave him his. Seemed so natural now. Perhaps all that understanding needed was time.

„Cause they'll owe you one. But even then... they won't owe you an explanation.“ Vyn's eyes widened at the last of it, but she stayed quiet.
 
Xen shrugged. 'Sounds like a load of bunkum to me, Gord, but who knows?' Xen was perfectly content with just the one name. Easier to remember. 'Still. Ain't like Aubvyn's a stranger sticking her nose in the family business,' she continued, unwilling to bow out just yet.

A simple explanation, a dive into the lore behind why he had chosen it. Was that so much to ask?

'Figure Vyn's grown now. Getting bigger by the day, if my eyes do not deceive,' the devahni smiled, glad to be discussing a topic that didn't involve her or the sordid events that had brought them together in the first place.

'You don't owe us an explanation, Gordar,' said Xenovia, nails clinking against glass. 'Doesn't necessarily mean you can't give us one.'
 
Vyn near became Pale herself when Xen casually shortened Gordar's name like they watched sheep together. Opened her mouth. Closed it. Picked at her sleeve.

„Could...would...should.“ Shrugging was no longer effortless so he just browed up instead. „Sometimes names fall off...when you wear them wrong.“

Grown? They were all children, even as almost everyone outgrew him. But give it time.

Vyn's breath caught at that, because she'd heard it before.

„You've heard us say the words, Xenovia. To name is to remember.“ And as long as Vyn lived, so would his gratitude. So would the memory.

Because he wouldn't always be around – but maybe, when the current generation was old and toothless, they'd still carry it forward.

Vyn smiled weakly. Because she didn't hear no. She only heard not yet.

„Oi – I aint that big!“ Vyn threw in.
 
'Aye... I've heard the words.' Several times, as a matter of fact. Elum were big on repetition - kept folk from forgetting entirely. But sometimes life was long as it was short, and folk forgot, regardless of the intent. Eventually, a name became just another word, spoken with reverence, though few left would be able to explain why.

How long would Gordar's memory last, once he was gone? A decade? A century? Who would remember him a hundred years from now, not just as a name but as a living, breathing person? A man with flaws and hopes and dreams.

'Maybe I'll understand... in time.' Xenovia smiled down at the bottle in her clawed mitts. 'Then again, maybe not. Maybe the Road doesn't suit me quite the way it does you and Vyn.'

Glancing at her friend, Xen smirked, tipped this way and that at the Deva's words. 'Well, yeah, you're not that big yet!' Bun still needed baking some. Time to grow and develop, and whatever else babies did in the womb. Sleep, maybe? Vyn liked her sleep. Perhaps Little Vyn took after their mama?

'Shame you can't drink,' she said, glancing around the hilltop, at the tributes left to Gordar. Bottles next to bottles on top of bottles, Xen frowned, the streetkid in her saddened by the thought that it might all go to waste. 'Anything you wanna do? Places you wanna go?'

Gordar seemed near enough done with her questions, and she didn't want to press the old man for fear she might seem like an arsehole. Shitting on his parade.
 
Gordar nodded like it all made sense. And maybe, in time, it would.

„Sure hope this is as big as it gets – this is my biggest robe.“ Also the cleanest, warmest, and only without holes at armpit and collar. But she didn't dwell on the future wardrobe malfunction – looked to Xen instead:

„Talked a big game about all these friends you have. Figure I'd like to meet 'em.“ Finger to her chin like she needed to think, even made the whole hmmm sound. „Ted, Michael, and Jenny – was it?“ hints of fun in both lip and voice.

„We'll be going back, then.“ Looked up to Gordar. „You coming with us?“
„I...think I'll linger a bit longer.“ Sure he would – didn't escape all the way out here cause he was feeling social.

„Oh... and pick up the trash, please.“ Eyed the bottles all around them.

They could build a shrine when he was good and dead. No need to litter in the meantime.
 
'I don't know... Was it?' So many new names and faces worth remembering, and so little time in which to actually do. 'I'll ask some of the old dears to source you some new robes, if'n your current fit's gettin' a bit, hmm, how shall I put it...' A shrug, followed by a smile. 'Snug?'

Rolling to her feet, the devahni danced a quick jig, freehand swiping at the blades of grass adhering to her legs and behind, like leafy leeches.

'Trash? Kinda harsh, don'tcha think!' Maybe there were too many bottles for one sitting, granted. Didn't change the fact they were gifts. Tributes. Rewards for services rendered - past, present and future. 'Gonna need a barrow to haul this lot back down the hill,' observed Xen, tail swishing, arms swinging as she moseyed on over to Vyn, a grin upon her plum-coloured lips. 'If you think I'm going to carry you back, forget it!' No way was she risking that.

One misstep and Vyn was like as not to start bouncing like a kickball. Little Vyn, too.

Stoppering the bottle in her hands, Xen placed it aside as she took to helping Big Vyn to stand. 'I will allow you to hold onto me, though. For safety's sake. And my own.' Who was to say what the wine had done to her? Maybe she really would stumble and fall. At least now Vyn would have something- someone to land on.

Picking up her bottle, Xen turned to regard Gordar, her smile turning solemn as she studied his face... the pain and grief the years had not been able to rob him of.

'I'll come back to gather up the rest of the gifts later, Gordar,' she said, making it sound like a promise. 'Do try to have a good night in our absence. You deserve it!'
 
While Vyn herself would never dare, she was rather proud of Xen for giving Gordar what for. Trash! Pft. Her gift wasn't trash – maybe crap – but definitely not trash. Wasn't like her to get worked up like this. Maybe it was cause she couldn't drink – but the tiny fury came easily.

As they made their way down, Vyn may have been walking for two – but that didn't make her feel steadier. You'd figure more people on the beaten path would bring a sense of confidence – but no, just weight.

„Tsk. Tsk. Making a belliedup girl do all this exercise...shameless.“ Laughed, sober and ankleswollen. More than the tiniest bit pouty.

„Bright side – we can tell everyone how we've got a hoard of Gordarbooze.“ Quiet, conspiratorial. „Maybe we even sell some.“

Vyn's tail picked up one of the bottles, barely lifting it to her hands. Cradled it like a kid. Hopefully she hit one of the unopened ones. She may be on a break from drinking, but she could very well be thirsty in a couple months too.

Sure hoped the lil' one popped out soon. This was already huge enough.
 
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