Proper rights

Dyvia shook her head at Jorrik.
She could understand his ignorance towards her people, but she felt like punching him while he slept.
Speaking to the others, she gathered that they were on a supply run for one of the outposts.
"Erik, could you lift the wagon? They say one of their dead was trapped underneath."
The dwarves tensed at the giant as he approached, gently tossing the burning wreckage aside to reveal the burnt corpse.
"May your spirit find the earth once more brother."
Dyvia looked at the group of dwarves that lay in their graves.
Thanking Dyvia and the others for their help, the surviving dwarves made good on their promise as they brought a keg that wasn't destroyed.
Pouring the Brew into a set of small mugs, they passed them between the travelers.
When each member had a mug, the dwarves said a short prayer.
As the Ancestors call you home, take with you a peice of me, so that we all may be joined. As you take a peice of us, let us have a peice of you, so that you may guide us in life.
Dyvia knew this well, it had started after the Ragnarok, when all dwarves on Midgard were trapped forever.
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Taking a long drink, Erik finished before anyone else, looking at the dwarves with a sympathetic somber look.
His kind had mostly stayed in Jotunheim, so very few were stranded by the Sundering. He had only seen a few of these throughout his life, all solitary hermits.

After the burial, the group made camp with the dwarves, planning to travel with them for a time.
Dyvia found Erik on the rock pile they had fought on, gently tending the wound gained from the Valkyries sword.
Neither said a word as she sat next to him, watching the group below around the fire.
Both dwarf and giant breathed a heavy sigh, both lost in thoughts of a distant home.