Chapter III: Reconaissance

Here is where you meet the rest of the gang! *Gang's all here!*

 

Chapter III

 

 

 

 

Reconnaissance

 

 

 

 

 

             Rimm sucked in a breath of deep air. The relatively empty tavern of the inn seemed almost silent that night. He turned from the bar to look out the window. The moonlight shone directly through, and he could see tiny particles of dust in the air. It was a quiet town in general. All the humanfolk were either at home resting or here in the inn, and— the old dwarf gazed around— the majority were home asleep.

             Rimm and Smashy had come to the town and gotten a room up the stairs. It was two halls to the left, a door marked with the carving of moon; a suiting identification, considering the wide view of the night sky from the window. Rimm felt the bulky wooden key bulge from inside his leather clothing.

             The old dwarf had brought Smashy, and their things— weapons, armor, belongings— to the inn room. In the lower level were only three rooms: a bar, a small dining or reclining area, and a staff kitchen. All Rimm could see were that of three personages besides him and the barmaid. He noticed two drunken patrons and a cloaked, hooded figure in the far back whose image was out of his view. The candlelight could only show so much light, after all. The young dwarf Smashy had chosen to stay upstairs, where he had immediately fell into deep, loud sleep.

             “Can I get you something?” asked a soft and gentle voice. The old dwarf turned to the side and saw that it was a young, scarlet haired human girl. She was probably no more than twenty, and for human eyes, was quite the stunning view.

             “Eh…” Rimm said.

             “Ale? Beer? Its fresh from the barrel, just filled yesterday.”

             The girl was surprised to hear the dwarf’s refusal for an alcoholic beverage. It was wise of this girl to make the assumption that he, a dwarf, would be wanting of one, but as this was not the case, she turned a bright red.

             “Oh, worry not, girly,” chuckled the old dwarf. “I’ll be needing only a simple wine to satisfy my taste tonight.” She nodded, and color began to return to her face. Hurrying back into the kitchen, Rimm let out another chuckle. “Humans,” he muttered. “Always the lively bunch.”

             Rimm sat at the bar, waiting for the human girl to return with his beverage. He groaned, for the two drunken patrons were starting to muster a lot of noise.

             Rimm glanced at the hooded figure, still standing quietly in the corner. He frowned, for the man had not moved an inch since Rimm’s eyes had last been on him. Suspicion of danger began to develop, and Rimm watched as the only movement of the hooded being was his stomach, moving in and out with every breath. The being’s head moved slightly and the old dwarf realized that the hooded being had noticed Rimm’s gaze. The dwarf turned immediately to face the bar where the scarlet haired human was emerging from the kitchen doors.

             She walked over with a platter of steaming food, which the old dwarf recognized to be a meat pie, and his mouth began to water. Suddenly Rimm realized how hungry was, for he hadn’t had anything to eat in at least a day. Suddenly he longed for the pie atop that platter… She turned slightly toward him, raising the platter high with one hand, and placed the glass of red wine in front of the dwarf. She turned from him with a smile and walked to the now very loud duo of the drunken patrons.

             Rimm clasped the glass in his hands and played with it for a moment, drumming the sides with his fingers. He brought the glass to his lips and sniffed the sour sort of drink for a second, and then downed it. He was surprised at the wine’s stale aftertaste and he sighed. He couldn’t help the urge that was now growing within him. It was partially the terrible wine’s volatile taste still stinging on his tongue. He was a dwarf. It was only natural.

             “I need a beer”, he grumbled.

             The old dwarf watched queasily as the girl desperately tried to make the patrons calm down. A patron raised his arms and said rather loudly,

             “Quiet down? Quiet down! Well I’ll be damned if I quiet down yeh pretty little queen!”

             “Yeah!” called the other in agreement.

             The girl said another thing, and this time both patrons looked to each other, snickered, and turned to continue their doings. She walked back toward the kitchen with short, hurried strides, nodding at Rimm along the way. He waved an arm and she turned to him with surprise, halting suddenly.

             “Yes?” she let out.

             “A beer?” Rimm grinned.

             The human girl gave him an exasperated expression and muttered,

             “Yes, of course!” and hurried back into the kitchen without a moment’s recognition.

             Rimm turned back to the bar to yet again stare silently at the empty glass still sitting there.

             He watched from behind the wooden structure and noticed its simplicity, as opposed to other taverns he had seen. He had seen intricate oak carvings, moldings on the ceiling, and nameless shades of paint sitting on the wall. Here it was a simple piece of work made and put together, probably meant to stand up to some rough patrons. Humans could be violent, Rimm reminded himself.

             He saw no artwork whatsoever, just blank wood; although there was a carving on the bar-counter, just a few feet away. The old dwarf could barely make it out, for his eyesight was getting worse and worse the older he got. But when he strained his eyes, he could see the crooked carvings of a single word.

             “Elipithy,” he read through pursed lips. He searched for a word anywhere in his mind that resembled anything like it, but he could not. Was it a book? Some sort of significant human event? Perhaps a hero from Heilek?

             “’Tis Elipithy for you,” came a voice seemingly from no where that answered Rimm’s question. “’Sheltered her since she was a babe.”

             Rimm looked for the voice’s owner but could see no one, until a small body appeared from a tall stool behind the bar. It was a gnome that now sat before him, smiling at him. The old dwarf looked confused but not surprised.  Humans were known to be abnormally tolerant of other races.

             “She did that,” said the gnome, gesturing to the badly carved signature, “When she was no more than five.”

             Rimm nodded awkwardly. “You the father?” he asked, looking around. He kept an eye around the room expectantly, searching for the distinct pink hair of the odd female gnomes. They had always been quite the sight for old Rimm.

             “Oh,” the gnome laughed. “I should like to say so!”

             Rimm gave a baffled look of misunderstanding. The gnome gave a soft chuckle and added,

             “She’s the barmaid. The one you’ve been confusing all night.”

             “Her?” Rimm said in a surprised tone. “the scarlet haired girl?”

             “Only one in town,” said the gnome, “and I’m proud to say so. Poor kid was left at our town’s doorstep nearly, eh... about seventeen years has it been?”

             The gnome scratched his chin and continued to talk.

             “No sight of ma or pops, and no one wished to take her in, so of course I take her home, right?!”

             “Of course,” Rimm agreed with a laugh.

             Just then, the scarlet haired girl, Elipithy, emerged from the staff kitchen’s double doors, with a large, clear mug of beer. The old dwarf’s stomach heaved, and he reached for the mug as soon as it was near to him. Between noisy gulps, he could hear the gnome say,

             “And here she is!” He sprang up to stand on the bar, hurrying over to Elipithy to give her a great big hug, and a slap on the back. She stood not knowing what to say, and the gnome chuckled and murmured a few words of reassurance. She nodded, but still said nothing to Rimm. Slowly, she returned once again to the large double doors. Once again, Rimm saw the doors swing open, and he could see staff, sitting back and enjoying the slow business; the prospect of not getting too worked over.

             The old dwarf wiped his beard clean of beer and looked back at the gnome who had now sat back down to his previous seat.

             “She’s not what you think,” said the gnome. “Once she knows you, she’s a completely different girl.”

             “Yeah?” Rimm chuckled, now a bit buzzed from the single mug of beer. “I bet she’s a burden though eh? Being so much larger than you?”

             “Not at all,” he laughed. “She’s the best thing ever. You’ve just got to get to know her. By the way, the name’s Zanfur.” He held out his tiny gnomish hand for Rimm to shake. The old dwarf, without hesitation, clasped it and shook it firmly. He was without a doubt sure that this “Zanfur” was a friend.

             “So what brings an old dwarf like you to the Slimy Boot on this fine night?” Zanfur asked, seeking to continue conversation. With a look at Rimm’s armor he also added,

             “And from our neighboring city of Crotz’ Cryn!”  

             “Just, eh… drifting I suppose.” Replied Rimm.  

             “Well then, welcome drifter!”

             Both stoutfolk laughed and continued on with their conversation; until the two patrons began yet again to muster much, much clamor.

             “Oi, patrons. They don’t take to kindly to our kind,” muttered Zanfur, pointing to the two drunks. “Especially when they’re drunk.”        

             “Rather unpredictable, yes?”

             “I should think so,”

             Zanfur put a hand up to wipe his brow, and started again to scratch his beard.
             “Time to take out the garbage,” he sighed. “Do excuse me.”

             The old dwarf nodded and watched as the gnome hopped from his seat, leaped over the bar, and with surprising speed for his size, darted over to the patrons.

             “Could you folks please quiet down?” Rimm could hear Zanfur ask. “Its awful late; and you folks are making quite the amount of noise.”

             “Again!” huffed the taller patron, who now stood as tall as he could. He furrowed his brow for a moment and then grumbled,

             “First the girly, and now this little runt!”

             The gnome frowned and crossed his arms.
             “Sir, we’re just asking that you two lower your tones, because it is rather late as I have suggested.”

This time, the other one stood, and he, who was not quite as tall, spat,

             “Your just hating us, ‘cause… ‘cause we’re men! We’re men and we’re proud.”

             The first man put an arm around his friend and nodded with an intense glare. Now, Zanfur began to raise his voice.

             “You folks should know, I’ve been living in this town, this human town, for years to come, and I’ve gotten along with you humans for many years,” he said.

             “Aw, shaddup,” said the shorter man.

             Zanfur frowned and instinctively moved his hand to the butcher’s knife at his belt.

             “Now, now, Zan, lets not be too worked up.” Came a gentle voice from behind the gnome. He turned with a surprised look and gazed at his adoptive daughter.

             He turned back to face the patrons and eased his hand.

             “I s’pose she’s right,” he muttered. “lets not get violent,”

             But the patrons had dropped their attention to the gnome and shoved passed him, to face the scarlet haired girl, who, in return, took a step backwards.

             “Ey, girly…” came the eager voice of a patron.

             Elipithy sighed and put a hand up to ask the man not to come too close.

             “I’m going to have to ask you two to leave,” she managed to sputter.

             A wide grin spread across the shorter patron’s face.

             “’Ow ‘bout you you leave this place, and head upstairs with me?” he cooed. Slowly his eyes moved from her face to her chest, and he reached his short, fat, rough skinned fingers toward her breast.

             Just as Elipithy had taken another step backward, a large wooden board came down swiftly, and with the splintering crackle of wood, the man fell in a heap to the hard wooden floor. Elipithy gave a gasp, but then, the other man came up to where the shorter man had stood, and he dropped the wooden board.

             “That was my girly!” he hissed at his apparent unconscious companion. He spat at the body on the ground, and kicked it several times.

             “I don’t think he’ll be bothering you anymore,” he stammered. Then, just as the man had previously, his eyes fell upon her chest. Sadly, the girl knew what the man’s next motive would be…

             The smaller body of the gnome Zanfur jumped from behind the man and he growled,

             “Not tonight, and not any night for that matter,” and he grabbed at the wooden board at his feet. ‘At least not Elipithy anyway,” he added. The patron, now angered, slowly made his way over to the gnome.

             “You blasted stoutfolk have always been so, so, unruly!” and swung a blatant fist at Zanfur. It flew right passed his head, and the gnome let out a kick that would have destroyed that wooden board and blasted it to pieces. The man fell forward screaming, until he tripped on his unconscious companion before him. He landed flat on his face, and blood spilled everywhere from his nose.

             Elipithy screamed. The tall figure in the corner, who had been watching the whole scene, was now alarmed. It was now beginning to become violent. He told himself that he would not become involved, but he figured that if it came down to it, he would have to.

             The man on the floor cried and moaned in pain, and he found that soon he could not get up. He looked up at Zanfur who stared at him triumphantly. He weakly threw a punch that landed softly at the gnome’s shin, and the gnome folded his arms. With a swift kick, the drunken patron fell out cold.

             “Takes care of that matter,” groaned Zanfur. “S’pose I didn’t have to use this.” He dropped the wooden board and looked around the room. It was a wreck. It looked as though the tavern had been torn to pieces. There was a table overturned, and splinters of wood everywhere. A few chairs lye in pieces, and for a strange reason, a chunk of the wall was missing. Zanfur and Elipithy both sighed at the same exact moment, and Elipithy sunk to the floor.

             She smiled and looked up at Zanfur, patting his leg as he strode passed her, inspecting the almost destroyed tavern of the Slimy Boot.

             “Thank you, Zanfur,” she said.

             “Yeah, yeah, all in a day’s work,” grumbled the gnome, giving her no attention. “This will take quite awhile for us to fix.”

             The gnome looked beside him to see the old dwarf, just arriving, who also studied the damage.

             “Indeed,” said Rimm. “I’ll help clean up the mess, if you don’t mind.”

             “No problem at all,” replied the gnome.

             Suddenly, a deep voice rang out, echoing through the whole tavern. Everyone in the building’s structure, including the kitchen staff, heard the booming voice’s owner.

             “I should like to help you stoutfolk immaculate this mess as well,” came the loud voice.

             Immediately, the three in the tavern looked around for a source. Instinctively their eyes locked onto the wooden entrance, but no silhouette outlined the faded and dirty window.

            Rimm was the first to figure out the voice of the owner. He turned to look at the only other person in the room. It was the dark figure standing in the shadows of the back of the tavern. Rimm turned to tell the others of his discovery, but by now, both of them had noticed it themselves. The figure let out a grunt and took a step out of the border of the room, where the candlelight engulfed him fully.

            He looked even taller than he had in the shadows, but that did nothing to describe his strange appearance. On the front of his thick black cloak was a complicated symbol, which must have been sewn in with delicate and precise hands, for it was so intricate that every little detail was visible from the distance between Elipithy, Rimm and Zanfur.

           Poking from underneath his cloak was a pair of abnormally huge boots, thick and brown in color. They were hard and stern, probably best fit for constant travel.  

           The figure lifted a hand and pulled down the hood that was cast over his face, and he was now fully revealed to the three.

           He had a short, round nose, that was covered by a full and thick beard that was tucked deeply under his cloak.

           “Do excuse my hidden appeal, I was not sure whether to trust you humanfolk,” he laughed in his rich, deep voice. “I was also expecting to meet a friend. But I am to assume he will not be arriving.” His accent was thick and foreign.

           “Well,” Zanfur replied, “if you feel you should want to help in the process of cleaning this mess up, be our guest!”

           “Why, thank you, my gnomish friend,” he said with a bow. “My name is Usos Duhali, companions.”

           Everyone gave a laugh, and they all introduced themselves. Not very long after, they were all beginning to pick up the mess and were telling tales. Soon, after the table had been put back up, the splinters swept, and the drunks tossed into the bushes, they were all tired and ready for sleep.

           “Well then,” yawned Usos with an enthusiastic smile, “I’m afraid here is where I must bid you nice folk farewell.”

           “It has been nice to know you,” curtsied Elipithy happily.

           “Indeed,” nodded Usos.

           Soon everyone was off to sleep, and only Rimm remained in the empty tavern. The kitchen staff had left to their warm beds by the fire, to sleep and keep warm, as the others had as well. He yawned and stretched and he was very sure that he had made a group of trustworthy companions that he would not forget. For hours, they had sat and talked, until finally their foreign friend had left. In return, the other two had left, and only he remained.

           The only one he doubted that he would see again was that of Usos Duhali. Otherwise, he figured that he had made a group of trustworthy companions. For the first time in his last two-hundred and sixty years of adulthood, Rimm returned to bed that night feeling elated.     

Author's Note

*NEW*