Have a mystery dwarf. I hope you enjoy him.

Old the door in frozen hall
No one comes and no one calls.
No voices sing ’neath vaulting stone
And mem’ry echoes alone, alone.

Movement stirs in sullen air
And hope awakes ’midst old despair.
The soul that slept on lonely bier
Draws a breath and begins to hear.

A mind still fogged by the dreaming deep
A body heavy from new-shed sleep,
There axe and armor still hold true
And truth stays shining out of view.

The stone itself turns listening ear
Where beats a heart alone and clear.
Magic speaks and breaks time’s sway.
He rises then as dawn turns grey.

So he girds himself with duty bold
His arms, his armor, and shield to hold,
And ventures forth to meet the day
On borrowed past to future’s way.

Waking Echoes copyright © Heather Strickler 2026 all rights reserved