Hearth Fire

As night fell over the small town, Stronric sought a place to sleep for the night. Following directions from his shadows, he made his way to an inn. From the wall hung a sign featuring a hand-carved tankard, while the rusty chains holding it up squeaked in the breeze. “The Drunken Duck”, was written along the bottom of the board. Stronric hitched his ram and went inside.

Stronric pushed through the two double doubles to enter the inn. The inn was bigger than he expected. The room sported a large hearth, a staircase, and a long bar. Fifteen tables scattered the inside of the inn. Animal heads, banners and tapestries hung from the walls, and small trinkets filled the shelves and added a homely feel to the building. Different colored rugs covered various areas of the floor. In the center of the room was a sand filled fighting ring. The rim of the ring was edged with logs, forming a short wall around the pit. Stronric estimated on a packed night, this inn could hold almost half of the village.

Stronric walked to the bar and pulled out a stool and sat down.

“Hey get out of here! No slaves at the bar!” said a large, mustached human in a brown apron.

Stronric pulled a three coppers from his bag and rapped them against the counter. The bartender made his way over.

“A drink, food and a place to stay, also I’ll need to stable my animal outside.” Stronric said.

The man scooped up the copper coins and inspected them, even biting one. Stronric shook his head, thats for gold you prat. The bartender nodded his head. “you got your papers?” he asked.

“No, I aint got no papers, now hurry, its gettin late and I’m hungry.” Stronric said as he looked around the room.

“Sorry, can’t serve slaves, well I can, but not for this much,” the bartender replied with a crooked smile.

Stronric stared at the man, using his finger to wave the bartender in closer. The large man had a long goatee, when the man lowered his head, Stronric reached up and grabbed the mustache. The iron vice grip of Stronric’s hand pulled the bartender’s head down, slamming it into into the countertop.

Stronric leaned in close, “trying to extort me eh?” The man let out a whimper as Stronric pulled down hard. “Now yer gonna take those three coppers, fetch me a drink, something with meat, and give me a room. If yer won’t, I will leave. But,” Stronric pulled again, “this is coming with me, now do yer understand?”

The man let out another whimper as he nodded his head. “Good, I knew we could be friends.” Stronric patted the man's face as he let him go. The man collect the coppers and disappeared through an opening behind the bar Stronric hadn’t seen when he entered the inn. As the door opened Stronric could hear the sounds of the kitchen and a deep rich song spill out. Turning around in his chair, Stronric looked at the crowd that was coming in for dinner. Most of the newcomers were farmers, wearing clothes with sweat stains and sun-faded large-brimmed hats.

In the corner of the room sat a group of men dressed in wealthy attire. Under the benches they sat on, laid their equipment and weapons. They looked like a group of adventures to Stronric. Stronric continued to scan the room when he saw him. An armored, round-faced blonde, and his brother, who’s forearm was in a sling. When they made eye contact, Stronric nodded at them. They both went pale and excused themselves and quickly left the inn.

Stronric watched them go. As they pushed open the door to leave, Stronric saw the figure again. The small creature in the green cloak, that he noticed following him earlier in the day. It disappeared as suddenly as he saw it. Stronric started to get up when he heard a bowl and a tankard being set down behind him. He turned and found his food and drink. As he ate, he noticed everyone in the inn was giving him looks. They whispered to each other and pointed. He even overheard villagers asking whos ram was out front.

A sketchy looking human walked over to the adventure’s party and spoke to them. Pointing at Stronric, then point back outside. Stronric felt like something was off. The group kept looking his way and nodding, Stronric saw the man slip them something.

“Bar keep, ill take my room now,” Stronric said.

Making his way to the room, the bartender had told him was his. The room was small, dirty and had a bedframe covered in hay and a window. Stronric shook his head and locked the door and climbed out the window. Stronric quickly made his way around the building, checking to see if anyone was in the area. Seeing no one, he untied his ram and made his way to the stable. Unnoticed by Stronric, a small figure observed him.

Stronric stabled his ram at the local stables and paid an extra copper coin to sleep there as well. He thought about staying at the inn, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he would get nightly visitors. Stronric reflected on his time in the village. Most of the town had stared at him, spoke in whispers as he passed. He was getting used to it until the inn getting dinner. Thinking it would just be safer to stay at the stables, and see the officer in the morning and leave right after.

The stables were a simple building made of wood. The structure resembled the stable from our mountain home, featuring a lengthy corridor. On each side of the hallway were pens of varying sizes for animals. Each stall had a water trough and a feeding bin. Hay covered the floors and outside of each pen was an area to hang the traveler’s animal tact. The pens were not fully enclosed, the outside walls started two feet off the ground and stopped at the height of a pony.

His stay with other people had been nice in some areas and terrible in others. He spent most of his time restraining himself; he hated being called a slave. It seemed slavery of dwarves was so commonplace that seeing a freed dwarf was almost a spectacle. He was refused service, or spoken to very slowly. It was maddening to him. No one in their right mind would ever speak to a dwarf that way back home and expect to walk away. It was a good reminder of just how careful he needed to be in this world. If he freely invited dwarfs to his hold soon, every slaver from this side of the world would come. Then again, he welcomed the challenge. It would be poetic in a way, an uprising of slaves.

Getting up to refill the ram’s trough, he saw a shadow moving on the far side of a lantern lit street. Stronric vision failed, light blindness, the colors shifting in and out of focus made it incredibly hard to see beyond light. He set down the bucket and reached for his axe. Sitting on an overturned bucket, he leaned against the wall. Slowing his breathing and letting his eyes droop, he set the bait. Figuring someone would try to make a job of him that night, he was prepared to not sleep. He could hear the footsteps approach. If he wasn’t listening for them, he would never have heard the footsteps approaching.

As the footsteps got closer, Stronric could make out the quite clanking of metal. Chains, he thought. Stronric could barely see a face through his squinted eyes, peering around the corner of his stall at him. It was hideous. A hooked nosed, unkept straw colored hair, and a shaved face tanned and cracked from sun exposure. Blue eyes stared at him.

“Pardon sir, ye the dwarf?” Asked the creature in what Stronric could assume was a country bumpkin accent.

“Ay, what else would I be?” Stronric replied, lifting his head from the wall and pulling his axe across his lap.

The creature stepped into the light of the stables. A small frame, bigger and taller than a gnome but far too thin and stringy to be a dwarf of Stronric’s homeland. The straw-colored hair fell to its shoulder, unkept and unclean with birds nest like knots in various places. It wore soiled and mud covered linen trousers with a simple brown tunic. It’s hands were comically big for its size, and so was its feet.

Stronric mouth slowly opened, “are ye a dwarf?”. Was all he could say.

The creature took another step into the light. As the light struck the creatures sunken frame, Stronric could make out ribs as the creatures breathing steadied. Its clothing hung loose and baggy over its starved appearance. The creature slowly nodded his head. Stronric stood and took a step forward. He looked down at the pitiful dwarf in front of him. Barely more than a simple gobi.

“What ‘ave they done to ye, beardling?” Stronric asked.

The dwarf looked up at Stronric with a gleam in his eyes, his mouth spreading into a wide smile.

“It true den, a dwarf in town, me sister said I was crazy. Can’t believe it if I didn’t see it for m’self.” The dwarf spoke loudly.

Stronric shushed him, “quite, yer wake the city, why are ye so thin? Where is your beard?” Stronric asked, his mind flooded with questions.

The dwarf looked ashamed. “Slaves of elves aint allow to ‘ave beards. Even the free ones. Yed find yerself in chains faster than ye think. I come to warn you Master Dwarf, that ram ye 'ave is the property of master. He was our hunt. The beast…

Stronric hand came up before he could catch himself. The dwarf was thrown to the ground. Stronric took a step back, shocked at his own reaction. The dwarf looked up at him with shock in his eyes, a trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth. The lessons begin now, thought Stronric. Stronric stood over the smaller dwarf and held out a hand. The smaller dwarf accepted the hand and pulled himself to his feet.

“Never call a ram a beast, and never hunt em. They are sacred to our people,” Stronric said with cold eyes.

The dwarf nodded, and his face flushed red with embarrassment.

“ Sorry I know not, always a slave, yer the first free dwarf I met. Won’t forget, but ye need to leave tonight. The men over at the tavern has told master the be. The ram in town and with a free dwarf. Master gonna finish his hunt and take ye as a slave. His is twenty men strong, ye need to flee.”

Stronric scratched his beard in thought. “Does your master own this town?”

“He don’t, sent here by his father to cool his head, an incident happen at the capital so he sent him on a hunting trip, while things calmed down.” Replied the dwarf.

Stronric furrowed his brows in thought. “Are ye alone? Are there more dwarves?”

The dwarf nodded.

“How many are there of yer?” asked Stronric.

The other dwarf replied, “Just me and sis.”

“What is ye and yer sister's names?”

“Her name is Rugiel and I am Bauru Stonesinger.” Bauru replied.

“Do ye wish to be free and to join me?” Stronric asked, staring into the young dwarves’ eyes.

Bauru’s eyes glistened with joy for a moment before the light died.

“We can not, we are slaves, they would hunt us down. No slave who runs ever gets free.” Said Bauru.

Stronric hand came down on the dwarf’s shoulder, startling him. Stronric looked him in the eyes and could see the dwarf yearned for freedom.

“Oh ay, rarely do slaves ever get free, but yer not a slave, yer a dwarf. I have a plan. If you want to become a true dwarf and be free, all you have to do is follow my plan. May Thoranthana guide you. Now get out of here. Hurry to yer sis, and tell her the plan.” Stronric said as Bauru smiled and nodded eagerly.

Bauru smiled faded and he looked at Stronric curiously, “who is Thoranthana?”

Stronric Smile, “our mother, she calls us home.”

“Bauru, Bauru,” Stronric kept saying out loud to himself as he packed his provision and readied his ram. He had done it, he had met a dwarf, and if everything goes to plan, he would soon grow his hold. I am scared to think of what a woman dwarf looks like if the men look so pitiful. They probably don’t braid their hair into their chops. He shudder at the thought of a clean shaved dwarf woman. Leading his ram into the night, he stopped by the general store and slid a note under the door, and then headed for the town gates.

Two different guards stood watch as he attempted to pass through. The guards, hearing the sounds of hooves, turned and barred his path with their halberds.

“Halt! Who goes there, its past hours and no one is permitted to leave till morning.” Said one guard.

“My name is Stronric, I am a free dwarf and no man will bar me from leaving a town that has and will attempt to do me harm.” Stronric replied.

The guards looked at each other and spoke in whispers, “are you not the dwarf who must remain here for questioning on the morrow?”

“Ay that is me, but it is no longer safe in the town for me. Tell the captain I will return.” Stronric said as he jumped onto the ram and slapped the animal’s rear.

The ram shot forward with its head lowered, riding straight into the guards. One guard raised his halberd to slay the ram, an axe flashed out, cutting the head of the halberd. With a snort, the ram sent the other man tumbling onto the ground. As the guard stared after the mad dwarf, all they could hear was the chuckling of the dwarf. “Indomitable, that be yer name.”