My Big Bang is complete, sent to the beta, as well as the graphic artist. Dwalin has a rather thick Scottish accent. Dunno why.

As he approached the small glade, he took in the newly risen buds, not yet opened. It was still early in the spring, a cool spring following a horribly wretched cold winter. He approached the bench and reaching into his fur jacket, he removed the scrap of cloth from it and set it on the bench.

Lass, aye know ye kin hear me,” he began. “Aye’m growin’ old. Mahal’s Balls, aye’m older ‘an any dwarf has ev’r bin. Aye’m o’a mind t’go visit m’kin an’ a few places aye kin bare remember. If yew wanna tag along, aye wuld welcome t’comp’ny. Yer grievin’ won git no better stayin’ inna mist. ‘Tis time, lass. Aye leave inna mornin’.”

He waited.

Nothing.

He took a deep breath. “Look! Aye’v no time fer niceties or sweet words. Yer grievin’ has gone on long enough. Either shite or get off the pot!”

 

William Edward is jumping up and down and Gary is applauding.

 

 

 

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