The Wyrmslayer
"By Clangeddin's beard, lass, ye fight a good fight with that mace of yours."
"Aye, lad," Ber smiled, wiping gore and bits of bone on the ragged tunic of one of the slain duergar. "But don't let my youthful looks deceive ye. I be older than ye I'd wager."
"Och, surely ye jest," Khelgar Ironfist scoffed, having planted the butt of his waraxe on the floor, he was now leaning on the blade with his elbows. "Why, ye don't even have a beard yet lass."
"Then ye must be in your cups, lad," she grinned, her voice sultry yet comforting, "for aren't we in human lands now?"
"By Tyr's left buttock," he oathed, slapping his forehead hard enough to put a stagger in his lean, "Of course, yes. Ye would've shaved off your whiskers."
"Now lad, let's get some ale into ye," the lovely, homely dwarf offered, "if nothing else than to shut your mouth before the whole world ken about our beards."
"Now that's an offer I can hardly resist, as long as ye be making the offering."
"Oh ye will have time and leisure enough to properly repay me, I'd wager."
Finding a seat at one of the three tables was not difficult. The bladelings and their duergar thralls had killed or chased off most of the former patrons of the Weeping Willow Inn, and the owner, Jorik Tanneset, had been overjoyed at their timely assistance. The fact that Ber was prepared to pay for the home brewed ale, as well as a platter of rinded, yellow cheese to eat with a bricklike loaf—of what she had assured him was simply dwarven bread—only served to elevate them in his eyes.
"Allow me to run you a nice, hot bath, my lady dwarf," he offered, as he put down the platter, "If only to wash the blood off after your meal."
"Aye, Goodman, that'd be splendid, and I thank ye for the hospitality."
"Will my sir dwarf also require ablution?"
"Nay, keep—"
"Aye, Goodman, King Ironfist here could use a good soaking, I insist."
"What—"
"As you wish my lady," Jorik winked, as if they had shared a private joke, "I shall fill the double then."
"Now, lass," Khelgar spluttered, "I appreciate your help and ye ale and bread, but—"
"But what, King Ironfist?" she asked, her voice suddenly matronly and thunderous, "Has the Ironfist manhood come to this?"
"But this be most unseemly, lass! I don't even ken your name."
"Aye, my apologies, King Ironfist, for I be Berronar," she smiled, "but ye can call me Ber for short."
"Aye Ber, that be a proper name, by the Silverbeard. Named for the Revered Mother, and I daresay I be more inclined to take ye up on ye other offer now that we be properly introduced."
"You could say that, but first we should make good of Goodman Tanneset's cheese and ale."
"Aye!" Khelgar bellowed, swinging back his tankard.
As the meal progressed, Khelgar found the ale, but especially the company to be more and more to his liking. In fact, tavern patrons throughout most of the northern Sword Coast would in later years praise the Willow Ale of seventy-seven with misty eyed fondness. Towards the end of the meal, his mind suddenly grasped a hold of something it had been chewing on since the start.
"Tell me Ber," he slurred, steadying himself with his ninth tankard, "Did I hear ye right earlier?"
"I never lie, Khelgar," she replied huskily.
"Then jest ye must have, for ye called me 'King Ironfist'."
"Aye, as well ye might be, Khelgar of clan Ironfist," she laughed, getting up and taking his calloused hand in hers, "But our bath awaits, and if ye wish, ye will see that it be not only my beard that be shaven."
"Your clan has some strange customs, Ber," he laughed as he followed, squinting slightly at the ale halo his mind had painted around her, "though ye have not yet mentioned it by name."
"It is Truesilver, King Ironfist, come to anoint ye" she said, as she stood suddenly naked before him, before stepping lightly into the steaming waters of the bath. "Though, I daresay, by tomorrow's light this eve will be like nothing more than a dream to ye."
"Then let us dream together, Mother of Safety, mother of beauty," Khelgar grinned in a moment of clarity, before the fog of ale, steam and love rolled in to obscure all.
