To Adventure!

Halflings in general are considered to be a very easy-going pastoral people that enjoy the simple things in life. Several meals a day, good drink and good company are the simple pleasures pursued by almost all of them. They are generally also hardworking folk. But there are exceptions to every rule, and that leads up to,,,,

"Nelson Finnan Goodburrow!" His father's voice boomed from doorway of their burrow home, "Get yer lazy arse up from behind that tree and get inside. Yer supposed to be helping yer Ma with cleaning the storeroom." No one would think of a halfling as 'imposing' but among halflings, Bannon Goodburrow managed it. Although not above average height, he was well muscled and lacked the typical round belly of a middle aged halfling. His resting face was a minor scowl and even when in a good mood he looked stern. Right now though, it was not a minor scowl, and he was not in a good mood.

Not for the first time Nelson came to the conclusion that the only reason people had middle names were to let them know how much trouble they were in. He had no problem admitting that he was lazy, and any excuse not to work was a good one. He was certain that what he was about to do would not work but he wasn't going to let that stop him, after all, stranger things have been known to happen. Without bothering to get up from under the tree, "But Pa, you know what they say. You should avoid any strenuous activity for at least half an hour after eating and I'm still digesting second breakfast."

"Ya know damn well that's about swimming. Now get yer lazy arse in there and start helping or ya won't find a plate set for ya fer lunch."

That wasn't an idle threat and Nelson knew it. It wasn't one his father used very often and he always meant it. Not going hungry was an effective motivator. So, with an over exaggerated heavy sigh, he heaved himself up from the comforting shade of the tree and headed for the door. Nelson was a typical halfling in many regards but also was slightly different in other ways as well. Halflings tended towards plumpness but he, despite not missing any of the five daily meals, tended to be lean. And it certainly wasn't because he worked hard or exercised excessively. His ears and chin were also a little more pointed than the norm for a halfling. But anyone who even hinted at Elven ancestry risked a good thumping from not just his Pa, but his Ma as well. Nelson was also extremely lazy for a halfling. He avoided work where he could but when cornered with no way out, he worked quickly and efficiently. He preferred to think of it as 'industrious' lazy. By working quickly, he could rapidly get back to being lazy. He also did his work well so that he never had to be told to do it again because it wasn't done right the first time. So, with no exit in sight, he headed indoors, determined to be done by lunch so he could take the afternoon to recover.

As he made his way to the back of the burrow where the storeroom was, he briefly considered the nature of storerooms. They were always windowless, dim and stuffy places. They always started out neat and tidy, but by their nature, always became cluttered as stuff was placed in it haphazardly over time. Every so often a decluttering was called for and this was just one such occasion. The only bright spot was that there was always a pile of 'why the hell was I saving this' when they were done. They had started a tradition of coming up with creative answers for what the various odds and ends had been saved for. Everyone took great amusement in it and the more outrageous the answer the better.

The storeroom was in the furthest reach of the burrow. It was, as expected, stuffy and dusty, which only stiffened his resolve to be done with it as soon as possible. When he arrived, his mother was hard at work already and had a small pile of obvious junk piled near the door. Like his father, his mother also deviated from the halfling norm but not as much. Although middle aged also, she had the figure of a much younger woman and would be considered beautiful if not for a broken nose that she would never explain how she got.

The Goodburrows were considered a bit odd by the rest of the community due to their appearances. However, the Goodburrows never spoke ill of other people, always helped out when needed, and never caused trouble, so they were the 'good' sort of odd. Also, when wolves had started attacking the flocks a while back it was Bannon that led the hunting party to drive them out. No one who was in the party talks much about what happened but since then, no one goes out of their way to make trouble for Bannon. No one makes trouble for his wife Cora either. Because, well, who wants to make trouble for a beautiful woman (even if she does have a broken nose)? Although Cora was always friendly and cheerful, there was also just something about her that no one could quite put a finger on that suggested that causing trouble for her would be a very bad idea.

"There you are." Cora commented as he entered the room, "Be a love and shift that brown chest over here and let's get at sorting it." He did so and they quickly set to work. It was his mother that taught him the secret of 'industrious lazy' without realizing it. She just drove it home that if he got two hours to do a task and got it done in one hour, that extra hour was his to do as he wished. Work progressed quickly.

They were almost done and there was only one more large chest left to go through. As he pulled it forward his mother was silent for a moment and hesitant and then said. "There's no need to open that one love. I've already sorted it." Nelson knew very well that there was no way she had already sorted it when it was at the very back of the room behind everything else. Come to think of it, she had also passed on this one the last time the storeroom needed to be tidied up. He concluded that there must be something in here that she didn't want him to find, so there was only one thing to do.

"No need to fret about it Ma. You always say do a thorough job, so we'll have it done in a jot." Before she could say anything, he undid the latches and lifted the lid. He wasn't sure what to expect, but it certainly was not what he was seeing. On top of the contents of the chest was a small shield, more of a buckler, well used judging by the nicks and gouges in it. Below that was some type of armor. Setting the buckler aside, he picked up the armor. Brigandine armor to be exact, halfling sized. Looking back into the chest he saw a wide brim kettle helm and what appeared to be a broad blade, swept hilt rapier in a scabbard on top of another set of armor. A rather obvious thought occurred to him, and he slowly turned to his mother and cocked one eyebrow.

"Yes love, that belongs to your father."

In an unbelieving voice he said, "Da was an adventurer." It came out as a statement rather than a question.

She chuckled, "If that shocks you, you'd best put everything back and shut the lid and not dig any deeper."

He actually took that as a challenge instead of a warning. He returned to the chest took out the helm and rapier to get to the armor under it. He held it up and then stopped stock still as he got a good look at it. It was armor all right, woman's armor, again, halfling sized. It was the type of armor that young men whispered about over ale at the tavern. It was the kind that bards described in great detail and no one believed them but everyone liked to hear about any way (at least the menfolk did). He happily speculated for a moment about how some of the young women in town might look in it. And then he blushed furiously when he realized exactly whose armor it was! "Um, Ma?"

"That's right love. It's mine. I warned you to not dig any deeper."

"It, umm, seems rather impractical."

"No arguments there. In fact, it could get outright drafty in sensitive places when the wind picked up. Still though, it certainly brought a smile to your father's face when I wore it, and the reaction I got from him was the reason I liked wearing it."

She sighed and a far-away look came into her eyes that Nelson hardly noticed. His brain had nearly seized up trying to process first, that his mother was an adventurer, second that she actually wore the impractical thing he was holding that only jokingly could be called armor, and third, that his father actually smiled. After a moment or two he shook himself and decided to get on with it and see what other shocks were hiding in the trunk. There was an unstrung military style crossbow with a disturbing number of notches on the stock, two daggers that looked to be excellent quality even if they were still in their scabbards. One looked to be Elven made and the other seemed to be Dwarven made. Ma and Da's respectively he supposed. Lastly, there was a leather tube that was capped on both ends and some sort of official looking seal on one side. He picked up and shook it and was rewarded with a rattling noise from within.

The rattling broke his mother out of her reverie, "Don't open that love. Nothing good will come of it." He looked at her confused. "What's in there is the reason we gave up adventuring. Well, that and the fact we had already tucked away enough gold to be considered very wealthy by halfling standards."

He looked back down at the tube, 'Well' he thought, 'In for cooper, in for a gold.' And then he opened the tube. A human sized golden ring fell out. It didn't have any gems on it but had a flat, engraved top. After studying it for a moment he realized the engraving matched the seal on the outside of the tube. Looking inside the tube he found a scroll. He pulled it out and his eyes bulged as he read it. It was a patent of Nobility! The ring must be a signet ring. He was still staring at the proclamation when he heard his father's gruff voice from the doorway.

"Ya shudda let me wipe me arse with that and melt down that ring years ago. Damn worthless pieces of trash."

"Now now dear, you just don't do that to things like this, no matter how you feel about it." She said it sweetly, but her expression as she looked at the scroll told a different story.

Nelson was thoroughly dumbfounded. "But, but Nobility! I don't understand. I mean, how did you, why have you never," his voice trailed off.

His father sighed, "Yer a smart lad but yer not thinking it through. Now then, how many nobles do we have around here, or in any halfling settlement?" He was pleased to see his sons' expression go from confused to thoughtful. "That's right, none. Now then, suppose yer down at the Drunken Rooster having a nice mug of ale and some lout wanders in and says he's Nobility, he can prove it, and says ya all need to start treating him special like." The thoughtful expression turned to a frown. "That's right, he'll get special all right. A clout up the side of the head and two passes through the moist end of a pigsty."

"Aye, that's pretty clear now. But I do have a question," he glanced at his mother, "why would becoming nobility make you give up adventuring and why do you actually hate the idea so much?"

His father's expression soured before he started, "That mission was to be the 'big one', pun intended. We made good money at what we did, and we didn't waste it either. We were going to make a killing on this one, again pun intended, that would make us not just rich but filthy rich."

"Da, you're scaring me. You're not only telling jokes but you're doing it with a scowl on your face and I didn't think such a thing was possible."

His mother giggled, "You should have been around him back in the day. Now love, don't interrupt, it's an interesting story."

"Hmph, anyway, there was this Baron that had a hill giant settle on his lands that needed to be disposed of." It was with great difficulty that Nelson kept from interrupting as he considered the height difference between a hill giant and a halfling. "Now this Baron had a reputation for two things, being richer than most Royals and more honest than most Royals. That meant a much better than average chance of actually getting paid the bounty that was offered. Just so ya know, adventures don't always get paid what they get promised. After all, it's kinda hard to put some beastie's head back on once ya chopped it off. So even if it was pretty risky, it was still a golden, pun intended, opportunity. Before ya ask, his own knights weren't up to the task. They insisted on being 'honorable' and took it on in single combat. After the first four got killed, they decided that someone less honorable could deal with it. A party of adventures from the Guild took up the job, six left and two came back. The reward was doubled so we decided to give it a go. Of course, they laughed themselves silly when we showed up. But I pointed out that what they needed was experts at fighting things bigger than they are and since almost everything is bigger than a halfling, we were just what he needed. I thought there would be more argument about it, but he sobered up when I said that and then he gave us the job without another word. Now, yer probably wondering how did a pair of halflings take out a hill giant right?" Nelson nodded vigorously.

Before his father could reply, his mother did. "In some ways all men are the same love. No matter how big or tall they are, a crossbow bolt in the sensitive areas under the loincloth bring them all down to a manageable size." Nelson felt a chill run down his spine when saw that his mother was smiling as she said it and it was not her usual 'I'm a pleasant person' smile either, it was more sinister.

"While he was, um 'distracted', I was able to dart in and cut a hamstring and that kept him on our level. Now, there's no way a halfling is gonna dig through the guts or chest of a hill giant to stab a vital organ. We didn't plan on doing it that way from the beginning. There are two places ya can make a cut that will lead to someone bleeding out. They are on the outside of the neck on both sides and inside the thighs on either side. Now I'll tell ya for free that getting between the legs of a hill giant thrashing around because he can't stand up and is trying to protect his groin because he has a bad case of 'bolt balls' is not a happy place for a halfling to try to be. So that left the neck. It wasn't a whole lot easier, but fortunately the cut didn't have to be deep, but it still needed to be deep enough. It took a while, almost got squashed a dozen times, picked up a couple of cracked ribs and got more bruises and scrapes than I thought it was possible to collect all at once, but I finally got one in that did the job and then all we had to do was stay out of the way while he thrashed about and bled out. That was when I noticed that your Ma got her nose broke and decided it was time to retire. I couldn't take a chance of losing her at that point. Besides," he said bitterly, "the reward would set us up for life."

"Did he cheat you despite having a reputation for being honest?"

"No, worse! He was so impressed he decided to give us an 'even greater' reward, Nobility! So instead of a chest of gold that should have been almost too heavy to carry, we got a worthless scrap of paper that your ma won't even let me wipe me arse with. The most infuriating thing about it is that wasn't being mean, cheap or deceitful in any way. He really thought he was giving us the greatest reward he could give. He just had no clue as to how worthless it would be to a halfling."

"Wouldn't it be useful to be a noble as an adventurer? I can't help but to think it would help when dealing with Dwarves, Humans and other big folk."

"Ya haven't been out there." He shook his head sadly, "No one respects halflings as it is. If a halfling started calling himself a noble the Elves and Dwarves might give it lip service and a grunt respectively. But a Human, if ya were lucky, he would laugh in yer face. More likely he'll try to kill ya for the grave insult to nobility ya committed by ya 'pretending' to be nobility. The patent and signet would mean nothing to them. Damn boy, ya should have seen the faces of the 'noble' knights and the lords and ladies of the Baron's court when they thought they'd have to recognize us as peers. It was like they stepped in something incredibly vile that they couldn't wait to have someone else scrape it off their shoe. We left quickly before any 'unfortunate and fatal' accidents could be arraigned."

'Now dear, it wasn't as bad as all that. You know very well that no one, including the knights, were going to come within ten feet of us because of what you did."

"Hmph, not why I did it, but it did prove to be useful." He did not elaborate.

Nelson looked dubiously at his patents, "Ok, I gotta ask."

His mother chuckled in a rather unpleasant way as his father answered. "Well, I was pretty miffed about what the giant had done to your Ma's nose. Usually when ya do a job like this ya cut off the head to bring back as proof of the job being done. I was pretty banged up and yer Ma was not much better off. And that damn things head would have been a real chore to haul back. So, I cut off his cock and balls and left the crossbow bolts in it." He chuckled and a smile almost came to his lips. "Ya should have seen their faces when I dumped the bag out in front of the Baron. We didn't have any problems leaving the castle."

His mother giggled in such a way that once again, chills went down his spine. "Who would have thought that a couple tiny halflings could intimidate an entire court full of human knights and nobles just by proving they could put a crossbow bolt through a hill giants' balls and then castrate him. Will wonders never cease?" she said it in a tone that was absolutely dripping with fake innocence.

Actually, Nelson was hoping that wonders really would cease as he was learning much more about his parents than he ever suspected or actually ever wanted to know. He was rather shaken but determined not to show it. To cover his unease, he started talking, "So then, the two of you have been halfling nobility all along and no one suspects a thing. Well, I certainly won't say anything. Who would believe me if I did?"

His parents looked at each other and exchanged the kind of look that contained an entire conversation. It was the kind of mental communication that only very close couples could manage. They both nodded at the same time. His father spoke, "We're not nobility, we never signed the damned thing."

He looked down at the bottom of the declaration and sure enough, there were no names above the Baron's seal. He slowly looked back up at his parents.

"That's right. Put yer name at the bottom and yer nobility. Ya can have it. Remember what I said about the pigsty, and ya can rest assured that I'll be the one providing the rope."

"Actually, this might help with other thoughts I've been having. I haven't said anything because I thought you might laugh at me." He took a deep breath and steeled himself, "I want to go to Thornrook and see what it takes to enroll at the wizard's academy."

Instead of scoffing at him, they did the last thing he expected, they looked at him with grave concern. His father sadly shook his head, "I shudda expected this. Ya being such a bookdragon and all. Ya may have read every book in the house and every one ya could borrow, but ya still have no idea what yer getting into. Becoming a wizard takes a lot of hard studying and hard work. And no offence boy, yer lazy as all hell."

"Depends on how you look at it Pa. I don't like physical labor and I don't want to do chores. I like to read, and I want to learn."

His mother giggled again, nicely this time, "Dear, if that doesn't sound like every wizard we ever met I don't know what does."

"Hmph, I'll give ya that. But I can still save ya a trip. I'll tell ya what it takes, money. More than ya make playing cards over at the Rooster and more than we can give ya."

"I never thought it would be cheap. But from what I've read, places like that are pretty big on reputation.' He waved the scroll. "If I can convince them of how prestigious it would be to have the world's only noble halfling enrolled there, they might at least let me take the aptitude tests to see if I actually have any talent for magic. Depending on the results of that, I can haggle with them over fees and maybe even swing a scholarship. You told me how in general how humans would react to halflings claiming to be a noble. It would just anger them. But aren't wizards a little less concerned about pedigree than they are about skill? After all, there are wizards from every race aren't there?"

His parents didn't say word, just looked at him and then at each other. There was another silent conversation and Nelson was beginning to suspect his parents were telepaths on top of everything else. After everything he learned after opening the chest, it would really not have surprised him at this point.

Eventually the broke eye contact and turned back to him. His mother spoke up first, "I don't like the idea of you leaving home, but you're old enough now to decide such things for yourself. And to be fair, I've heard worse plans."

His father grunted, "Hmph, we've been part of worse plans." He walked over and took the scroll from Nelson, put it and the ring back in the tube and capped it. He then handed the tube to Cora. "Ya can do this on one condition, Ya have to be able to defend yerself first. As ya are right now, ya likely would be dead an hour from the border. It's not a friendly place out there." He reached into the chest and took out the rapier. "I'll teach ya how to use this. You'll need to be able to use it better than most. Everyone is bigger than a halfling and that makes them think we're easy prey. You'll have to prove them wrong; you'll have to kill people. Can ya stomach that?" Nelson somberly nodded. "Good, I don't want to hear that someone found yer corpse in a ditch with a drunk goblin holding a pointy stick standing over it." His father took a deep breath and let it out again, "I'm being deadly serious here boy. There are few kinds of adventurers that are more vulnerable or easier to kill than a fledgling wizard. Until ya can work your way up to some decent spell work, it's gonna be this sword that keeps ya alive, not magic.

His mother reached in the chest and pulled out the Elven dagger. "And I will teach you how to use this for more the just slicing cheese and sausage." Again, there was that smile. "You're good enough with a hunting crossbow to keep rabbit and pheasant on the dinner table so I don't think you need any help there. Once you get yourself a nice military crossbow you should be just fine. I think though that I should also train you on using a simple sling. It's hard to hide a crossbow and a quiver of bolts, but a sling and a dozen or so lead bullets can fit in a pouch and no one would be any the wiser. Having weapons when people think you are unarmed can be advantageous. It certainly kept us alive more than once."

And so his training began. When his younger siblings, the twins, asked about the change in routine they were told the blunt truth. He was going on a long trip the big city and their parents were seeing to it that Nelson had enough skills so that he would not end up dead in a ditch before he even got there. They simply nodded and returned to their chores without comment. The twins were stoic to the point that Nelson sometimes suspected they were tiny, halfling shaped clay golems. Still, they did not complain about doing Nelsons' chores while he trained so he decided not to comment on it.

Becoming proficient with the weapons his parents insisted on was the hardest work he had ever done in his life. However, he was not tempted to slack off at any point. He had a goal, he was doing something that he wanted to do, and it surprised him how much having his parents support for it meant to him. He was determined not to disappoint them. He did exercises to build up his strength and reflexes, for as his Da and Ma respectively put it, 'If yer sword arm is weak, yer sword is useless.' and 'A scar doesn't prove you were good in a fight, it only proves that you weren't quick enough to avoid being cut.' His mother's arms, he noticed, did not have any scars.

He also learned the importance of silver. One of first things he noticed when he first drew his father's rapier was that it was inscribed on both sides in silver. The next thing he noticed was what the inscription said. He snorted and looked at his father, "Really Da?". It was written in Halfling, which not even all Halflings can read. On one side it said, 'Hey Asshole, You Were Just' and on the other side, 'Killed By A Halfling'.

"Hmph, had me a sense of humor back then. Told the armorer it as an ancient Halfling war cry. It sorta is when ya think about it. The reason ya want yer sword silvered is that there are some things out there, mostly undead things, that ya just can't hurt without magic weapons or silver. Couldn't afford a magic weapon, so that left silver. Let me tell ya boy, getting the silver inlaid was damned expensive. Still though, it was cheaper than getting killed by something a normal sword wouldn't even slow down."

"Worth every copper too." His mother chimed in. "Remember the Dove Hill bandits?"

"Rather not, to be honest. When looking at a quest, try to look at what they don't say as well as what they do. If it looks easy, ask yerself why no one else has taken it. Same goes for the reward. If it looks like good money for what they are wanting done, be suspicious. Very suspicious. For some reason we forget about that."

"I believe being blind drunk might have had something to do with it dear. We were emptying the ale mugs pretty hard that night from what I recall, and that's about all I can recall about that night to tell the truth. Well, that and when we went up to our room." A decidedly mischievous look came into her eyes. "I mean, who could forget that?"

"Hmph, I remember that part too, but that isn't the point here. What they forgot to mention was that the 'bandits' were actually wights. We snuck into their hideout in the middle of the night, which is the absolute worst time to fight undead, and if it hadn't been for the silver on that blade and yer Ma's silver sling bullets, that would have been the end for us. There were only four of them, but still, without silver we would have been dead. We raised hell with the Guild about that too. The reward was good money for bandits, piss poor money for wights."

From then, along with his training he received advice on adventuring backed up with personal antidotes that brought the points home with clarity. "Everything is bigger than you so work that to your advantage. Groin, inner thigh, and kneecaps, make those your main target areas. If you're fighting something in armor, go for the joints. Most things will be stronger than you too so don't try to match anyone strength for strength."

"Keep your silver bullets handy but in a separate pouch. It won't do to waste silver on something that only needed steel or lead. Speaking of which, steel is better, but lead is cheaper and easier to get. You'll have to decide for yourself what works better for you. Also, never load your sling until you're going to use it. It's too easy to accidently drop the bullet."

"That's right boy. Always keep your balls in your pouch until yer ready to us 'em. Tis sound advice for more than just slings. Fighting is only one of the dangers you'll have to be careful of in the big city."

His mother giggled, "A lesson you had to learn more than once as I recall."

"Yeah, well, but ya married me anyway didn't ya?"

Nelson closed his eyes and held his hands up in front of him, "I do NOT need to know the details of any of that." He opened his eyes an put his hands on his hips, "Is there anything else about slings and bullets I need to know?"

"Well, in a pinch you can use anything, and I do mean anything, for a sling bullet. Just don't count on a lot of accuracy if it's not round. Hitting someone in the forehead with a big, juicy blueberry is an effective way to send a warning if you're not ready to kill them just yet. Just be aware that some people won't take the hint no matter what you use."

" Hmph, Like that manure sack outside the guild hall. He was so excited about getting in the guild that he decided he was going to celebrate by hav'n a rut with your ma and he wasn't keen on taking no fer an answer."

Nelson shook his head in disbelief, "What kind of halflings live in the city that would behave like that?"

"T'wasn't a halfling, it was a human."

Nelson could only stare at him unbelievingly.

His mother picked up the story and spoke in a grim tone that he had never heard her use before, "There is a kind of perversion that certain sub-humans have where when they see a full-grown halfling woman, all they see is a little girl. They see it as the best of things. They can have a little girl without being considered a pervert because she is actually full grown. By the way, they're dead wrong about not being considered a pervert. Anyway, he was insistent despite being repeatedly told no. So, I told him to stand still for a moment, I had to get something. There just happened to be some fresh dog droppings in the street. I picked up a piece, loaded my sling and let fly. Despite not being perfectly round, it flew straight and true and hit him rather messily right in the forehead. That seemed to get the message through. Dear me, the vile and horrible things he said he was going to do to me! He stepped toward me and in a blink, there was your father between me and him, sword out and ready to castrate him if he took another step towards me." She sighed, "That's actually how we met." Her tone changed, "Me slinging dog shit in some asshole's face and your father threatening to cut off his balls and shove them down his throat. Not exactly romantic in the classical sense but still, it really was quite endearing."

"Oh aye, tis the stuff of bards songs." Nelson sarcastically replied. But instead of laughing or passing it off, his parents cast each other another uncomfortable look. "Oh, by Yondalla's big tits. Don't tell me there really IS a song about it?"

"Two things love, don't use a god's name outside of a shrine, especially like that. And not just ours, but any of them. The chance they will hear you and pop by for a visit is extremely tiny, but it is still a chance. Even the benevolent attention of a god is never a good thing. Secondly, it's been a while. I'm sure it's gone out of style by now."

Nelson shook his head, "I never thought I would hear myself say this, but can we please get back to doing some actual work?"

And so his training continued. Eventually his hard work (he actually was capable of it when properly motivated) paid off. He met the goals his parents set for him, that is; put a sling bullet through an opening roughly the size a helmets visor at 20 paces, do his parry and thrust forms with the rapier and then thrust through a bracelet hung from a string without touching it, and getting a touch on his father when sparring with a dagger. His father put everything in perspective for him. "Ya don't have any practical experience so ya don't know what ya accomplished here. Let me put ya straight about it. No one is afraid of halflings. A person in armor is gonna feel downright godlike when facing ya. Putting a sling bullet through the visor is going to let ya either stun or kill them when usually ya'd have no hope of getting through the armor. Keep'n in mind halflings have small wrists, being able to put a rapier thrust through a halflings bracelet without touching is no, pardon the pun, small feat. It shows precision. Ya aren't strong enough ta hack through things so ya gotta be on target when and where ya strike. Go for the vulnerable points, groin, kneecaps, armor joints. Lastly, getting a mark on me with a dagger is something ya can be proud of. I'm better than most with a dagger and if you can touch me, that means yer better than most others too now."

At last it was time to say his farewells. Almost all his friends could be found down at the Drunken Rooster. Those that didn't frequent the tavern he paid visits to. There were farewell toasts, well wishes, happy and sad parting words, and one screeching tirade. Nedda Thornhollow was the kind of woman that got what she wanted through 'force of personality' and didn't really care what people thought about it. She had recognized that the Goodburrows had money and decided the best way to get that money was to marry Nelson. Nelson was not consulted on this. When he was informed, he vehemently refused and told her to her face that hell would freeze over first. She replied by saying he could be coy and play hard to get all he wanted. She decided it was going to happen and that was that. To say she did not take hearing he was leaving very well would be the understatement of the year. It got ugly.

When she heard about it, she decided to confront Nelson at the Drunken Rooster. She calculated that doing it in public would make Nelson easier to breakdown and control as most men would not want to do or say anything if front of a group of people that might make them look bad. She came well prepared with an arsenal of things to say carefully calculated to break his will. Which only proved how little she actually knew Nelson. Just because he was lazy did not mean that he was weak-willed or a coward. She launched into him and unexpectedly, he never gave an inch. When browbeating didn't work, she resorted to insults and then more browbeating. After the first half hour the barkeep started passing out bowls of peanuts to all the tables as all the patrons stared at the two of them in rapt fascination. After an hour Nedda began to be genuinely distressed as she had never before crossed someone that not only wouldn't give in, but fought back just as hard. She reluctantly admitted defeat after he screamed at her that he wouldn't marry her because she was such a cold-hearted bitch that on the morning after the wedding night he didn't want to have to see a cleric for healing because he had frostbite on his cock. It was widely regarded as the best entertainment to be had at the Rooster in years.

The morning of his departure finally arrived. His parents saw that he had everything packed and his father presented with a hefty pouch of coins. Over first breakfast Bannon lectured him about all the ways a young and naive halfling could be separated from his money. Bannon flushed slightly when Cora giggled and assured Nelson that his father spoke from experience. First breakfast took longer than usual as no one seemed in a hurry to finish. When it could be delayed no longer, his father stood and went to the cabinet where the brandy was kept and returned with a bottle and 3 small glasses. He poured a glass for each of them and raised it up. Cora and Nelson stood and raised their glasses as well.

He put forward his glass and they all clinked their glasses together. "To adventure." He toasted.

"To adventure." Cora and Nelson chorused.

TO BE CONTINUED