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Smith's point of view:
The dwarf's hand was laid over mine. An action that reminds me of my death once again... Wait I did die... Does that mean that I am in heaven, or am I in hell? Is everything that's happening my own personal hell? Did I do someth-
Before I could finish my thought I heard the dwarf's voice once again speak in a soft tone; "I'm so sorry..." as his eyes began to tear up. He was regretful for something of which I assume is my injuries... Who is this person to love me so deeply? Is this actually heaven instead of hell? I mean sure he keeps getting my name wrong, "Jander" or whatever. But this is still what I hoped for most of my life, to live my life with a close comrade...
It doesn't matter, what is going on right now is still extremely confusing. Why do they keep mistaking me as Jander, and why is there a war going on currently with dwarves as warriors? Why are there also no spells or magic occurring in the fights that I saw? Has the world finally depleted itself of magic power? I can feel my eyes begin to tear up as the dwarf lowers his head onto the mat holding my hand with both of his.
I do not understand why I am crying... But I feel sad yet nostalgic from a burning sensation on my arms. It reminds me of my days when I used to toil in the smithing station. Hammering away at a single piece of steel in the scorching heat and the bright glow of the forge. ~Tang~, ~Tang~, ~Tang~. The repetition of the sound makes me focus even deeper on my craft.
Blacksmithing was the majority of my life prior to my death, and also my most prevalent hobby. I remember days when I lied sick in bed, with my wife tending to me because I would get too focused on my craft. Days where I kept forgetting to eat and drink or choosing not to in favor of my hobby. I even was given a convention once because my friends and family were worried about my health. I have... Well had, many burns and scars on my body just from smithing alone.
Before I know it I have a smile on my face again despite the searing pain; it reminds me of home: a happy place, a place where I could do my thing. I wonder if it exists in this place, a place where I can just work on smithing hammering away over and over and over. I begin to get up from the mat when the doctor tries to lay me back down.
My head turns towards them and I have an uneasy feeling, however, I can't describe the reason I just feel equity coming from them. It also doesn't help that they're dressed like the Grim Reaper, with that weird Beaked Mask and Robe. Their arm tries to force me back onto the mat but I use my free hand to grab it.
I use my muscular body to push the doctor's arm away and remove the other Dwarf's hands from mine. "It's okay, it's okay. I feel fine..." Looking down at the Dwarf who was previously sobbing, I assume they fell asleep. His head is still down and he lays silently on the mat with his head in his arms, honestly he seems very blissful while sleeping.
I try to take a step forward but, my foot touches the ground long before I expected it to; causing me to lose my balance and fall forwards. After falling for but a moment, the shock leaves my system and I catch myself before I hit the ground. Am I still sick or am I just disoriented from the blood loss?
Agh, it must all be in my head. I need to get myself used to these injuries. The fact I can still feel the pain means this probably isn't heaven, and I doubt I did anything to go to hell, I just wonder who the hell Jander is and why they're confusing me with him.
The doctor started telling me instructions to help recovery, such as to not do sudden movements, to not mess with the bandage without medical supervision, and to not start fighting again for at least a month. I'm pretty sure they said other things as well, but I zoned out halfway through because of a very important question...
Why can I suddenly understand them? How in Thmeal's rocky tomb did I speak their language back? And even more worrying, why didn't I notice earlier?