Divine Journey

Isgerd helps Heimyr change clothes.

- Well, that's it, let's go!
Heimir went out and resolutely walked along the cobbled street, his mother hurried after him. The hardworking dwarves didn't care about the appearance of their dwellings; everything here was cheap and functional, and the streets were indistinguishable from one another. All the beauty and grandeur were concentrated in the building of the town hall, of titanic proportions, which could be seen from any point in the underground city. It was not even a building, but an entire rock, lined with smooth stone slabs and in some places adorned with huge statues of famous figures and many other distinctive features; the town hall had always been the embodiment of the greatness and wealth of the underground people, and they had never spared any expense on its construction and decoration, which is why the building reached the highest vaults of the dungeon. It was adapted by the dwarves for important administrative premises, the residence of the thane, and so on; in other cities, various schools and guilds were sometimes located there, but they were more often located on separate plots of land, as were markets and industrial buildings. Heimyr was heading to one of these – his father's forge.
The closer he and Isgerd got, the more often they encountered pits, depressions, shafts, and often even entire chasms, over which countless bridges were built: from wooden beams near still undeveloped mines to majestic bridges made of stone blocks, fitted so precisely together that the bridges seemed monolithic.
"Harald, Snorri, Alv, father... They will be so surprised when I appear!" Heimyr remembered his colleagues: Harald and Snorri were carpenters and made shields, polearms, and ranged weapons in a workshop located next to the forge, where Alv and Heimyr's father, Thorald, forged metal weapons and armor. Of course, both workshops also produced household items.
Heimir entered the forge and immediately saw a stout dwarf, slightly taller than him and almost equal in strength, despite his advanced age. He had long, thick gray hair and a beard. He was diligently working on a large sword blade, which was almost as big as himself. But then he noticed Heimyr and turned to him. He saw such familiar, expressive, distinct, and stern features, as if carved from stone. The blacksmith turned his gray eyes to the guest and stopped working, took a step forward, his movements were unhurried and calm.
- Well, hello, father! - Heimyr boomed, spread his arms in a welcoming gesture, and smiled.