A Feast

Erik found all of the furniture presented to him just too small for his massive frame. He chose to fold his legs instead, sitting near the end of the grand table.
There was a small squabble over how best to accommodate their giant guest, Erik learned from this that this post was relatively new. It contained none of the older wares that were once used to entertain Jotun.
Erik took the dragon skin from his belt, making sure his furs would cover him adequately, and folded it as a food mat.
For a cup, the dwarves thought to use a scrapped brazier, the center bowl too deep for their taste.
As the feast commenced, he sat silently, looking over the gathered. He savored the Brew given to the group, deep and hearty, but with the characteristic kick that dwarven ale was legendary for. Giants could down whole caskets with ease, though for many humans it took little to send them under the table.
Lost in his thoughts, he was shocked to feel something thump against his head.
"Magic rolls!"
He looked over to see Kespin standing in a pose, proud of his little prank. This brought to his attention a group of young dwarves that were laughing loudly at the old man's hijinks.
The innocence so rarely found these days.
He had seen many young ones that were aged too soon, broken by a ravaged world. To see these ones still able to prank and laugh made him being the punchline be a good thing.
Chuckling lightly, he then noticed Dyvia sitting next to him, holding back giggles badly.
This was sorely needed after the last couple of days.
His shoulder still tingled from his fight with the Valkyries and the attempt to heal the wound.
Looking over to Tiella, he began wondering about what the blade could truly be capable of.