Trond E. Hildahl
Crown Princess Diedhra fidgeted on her dwarf-sized chair and inspected the sprawling banquet hall. In lieu of torches, enchanted orla-globes spread a golden light across the chamber deep within the mountain city of Brungard. With no risk of fire, ornate tapestries draped the walls, depicting ancient battles and generations of dwarven heroes and royalty. The room was enormous, but the boisterousness and intensity of the dwarves constricted the room unpleasantly about her. It was stifling, and she shifted again.
Misogyr noted her squirm with a disdainful look. “If you cannot sit through a feast, maybe you should not attend the Dance.” The dwarven prince’s halting Common sounded like rocks cascading down a hillside.
She turned to face him and with careful courtesy asked, “
