lookin for a crit

Critique quickly please.
working on this for class want some last minute thoughts.
** are names i haven't come up with yet, any ideas would help.


I went out to the farmhouse where Dundun lived to tell him about the fire.
Such phrases are not often composed by our proud tongues, a humble American had crafted the hearth from steel and love. It was a gift to my brother ** who'd accepted it as a kind gesture from a man who didn't know his own gift, who had been beaten by the struggles of life into thinking he was of no more value to anyone than the next iron worker in a time of technology and microchips.
His words were themselves small, 'here, it isn't much, I wanted you to have this, don't really know why I made it.' Steel bound with love, set upon a pile of dry memories from many fires burnt in its smooth cold dome warmed by the smiles of old friends sitting around it.
Dundun had taken to sleeping in the farmhouse, he'd made a small space for himself in the loft and took in the warm Summer night breezes and slept under the speckled host of the sky. Dundun would have fits where he spent time away from everyone else as if to take a break from unfamiliar stares. he would return only when the glances became friendly again. at least that's what everyone else said he did when he spent his nights in the here.
Me, I always thought he would retreat to the safety of solitude when he became agitated, a retreat for their safety and not his. he would spent time lifting his worries like burnt offerings from the tips of Marlboro Reds. they were blue dusk hazes that enveloped him and told him that this too would pass.
Dundun saw me walking up from a distance and came down to greet me a short ways from the farmhouse. we all respected his time here because for whatever reason we understood that it was sacred to him and we dared not ruin such holy a ritual with frivolous talk that served only to sooth our own cares and not his.
dundun walked up and read the sorrow over my brow a shame bandanna of bad tidings. i felt shame for delivering such an ill wrapped gift.
'What's wrong?'
'dundun...'
'is everyone alright?'
we tried as best we could but there was...'
where is he?
'we took him to the hospital.'
'let's go then'
last words has he flicked his last cigarette away and walked to the truck with me. he already knew why i was coming, as if the cigarette had whispered the news like a silent herald cherub tickling his ear with quiet songs.
'there was a fire dundun. we were asleep and the next thing we know the house was filled with smoke.'
we ran out of the house and everyone swears they heard ** get up. ** ran back as soon as we realized he was not in our number. he had passed out feet from the bedroom door, he hasn't woken up yet.