Dire fortune

Erik had stayed behind when everyone else cleared the feast, continuing to drink.
The chance to drown some of his sorrows was all to inviting and he wouldn't pass it up.
"Long way from home, aren't we Jotun?"
Hearing a quiet, withered voice, the giant turned to see a small dwarf sitting next to him.
"It has taken you this long to notice old one?"
This brought a chuckle to the wiry being.
"Here is the day that I am the elder to one of the ancients."
The two laughed, Erik finding the dwarf another relief. He watched the elder drain his mug, then wander over to his side.
"You are tainted, a host to a darkness that festers on your pain."
This made Erik start, not expecting such a change in conversation. The dwarf took no heed in his friends discomfort.
"You bear a weight that will bring you misery if held onto, find forgiveness, lest the darkness within takes over. The task you have before you is one that requires clear conscience and focused mind."
Staring in fearful awe at the dwarf, Erik finally realized he had stopped breathing.
Sucking in air, he closed his eyes to calm himself. When he looked to his disturbing companion, he found an empty spot.
"By the Ancestors."
-----------------------
Dyvia punched another dwarf to the ground, creating another round of laughter from the ring of dwarves that surrounded them.
"Oh, c'mon then! Has living in your tunnels left you all soft pieces of shale?"
Her drunken companions gave a mix of laughter and mock offense, some pushing their friends into the ring. Five had already challenged her, none coming close to tiring her.
"C'mon chickens! The giant makes a better fight then any of you."
Holding her arms high, she walked in a circle to face the crowd. AS she laughed, the group suddenly fell silent. Turning around, she was faced with a hunched figure, slowly shuffling towards her.
"Is this a joke?? One of your oldest has more guts than any of you?"
Paying no heed to the taunt, the figure walked up to Dyvia, then gently placed a withered hand on her shoulder.
"The boldest warriors often fall upon their taunts, forever fighting to justify their words. The proudest craftsmen often die on the forge, forever seeking their skewed thoughts of perfection."
Dyvia looked in surprise at the elders words, hardly knowing what to do. Before she could react however, the figure turned and shuffled out of the ring, leaving her standing in a now disintegrating circle.