~Thorben~

“Did you see the look on their faces?!” Wheezed Tanrin between fits of laughter. “I thought old Mrs. Ironblood was going to catch sight of us. She would have strung us up by our toes for sure!”

Thorben chortled, equally red faced and out of breath, “Did you really have to hide meat in her satchel?” It was funny, but they were on thin ice as it was. The boys were as close as any brothers could be. They also were struggling to take their places in the dwarfish community as adults.

“Mr. Ironblood’s new pups seemed to think it was a great idea,” Tanrin replied, sending both boys into a renewed hysterical fit. The dogs were mid-sized dogs commonly used for protection. They were cute in their own way, but they sight of them pouncing on Mrs. Ironblood and knocking her on her plump ass before wedging their scrunched up snouts into her satchel and snatching the meat was one that would stick with him for a while. “Okay.... okay... okay... we need to move before...”

“Before what?” asked a commanding voice. How could a voice tone communicate a sense of knowing? The boy’s eyes went wide, and they both knew that voice meant trouble. Shit.

“Hey dad! What are you working on? Any new commissions? Need any help?“ Tanrin asked without missing a beat. Tanrin could dodge most dilemmas in his sleep. He is a genuine artist. His medium is pure bullshit. With most people, rapid-fire questions were enough to distract them. Sometimes he would couple it with an offer of help or a compliment. Distraction could be a powerful tool. Danar Deepiron was not most people.

“Before what?” Their father repeated.

“Oh, nothing big. I was going to say that we need to hurry so that we could lend a hand in the smithy,” suggested Tanrin. His brother wasn’t giving up despite the writing on the wall.

“I see,” Mr. Deepiron stated nonchalantly. His eyes conveying more than his tone.

Thorben closed his eyes and sighed. Oh shit! He said, “I see.” Tanrin, you always fall for this! Here it comes. He opened his eyes to see his father staring at them appraisingly. Then a smile split his normally stoic face. The smile wasn’t the one that showed good natured humor, rather it hinted at some devious plan. While Tanrin was quite the smooth talker, he often overestimated his communication capabilities. Tanrin was his father’s son, after all, and Danar saw through his brother’s words more often than not. This will not be good.

“A sword for a visiting noble. Yes and yes,” stated their father without further comment. The boys didn’t stare at their father. Comprehension eluded them both. Neither wanted to say anything more.

After a moment of awkward silence, and dad staring them down, Thorben reluctantly broke the silence, “What do you mean?”

“Those are the answers to your brother’s questions. See you in the smithy in five minutes. This should give you time to relieve yourself if needed, and scarf down a quick bite. Maybe try something from Mrs. Ironblood’s skewer stand. I hear she has mastered a new seasoning mix,” Mr. Deepiron stated with a pointed look. He turned and walked into the smithy.

“Think he knows?” Asked Tanrin with a smirk teasing his lips.

Thorben didn’t respond. Instead, he took a deep breath. After he smacked Tanrin in the back of the head, Thorben raced to the nearest public toilet. Being in a system of caves, dwarves frowned on people relieving themselves anywhere but in the designated spots. Both boys knew better than to grab a bite to eat and risk being late. As they approached the smithy, Thorben asked, “Whose idea was it to hide behind dad’s coal pile?”

Sheepishly Tanrin mumbled, “I didn’t see you coming up with any great ideas, so I improvised.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur of exhaustion and pain. “My arms are going to fall off,” complained Tanrin as they finished cleaning the smithy. Dad had determined the only way to keep them out of trouble was manual labor. Between maintaining the forge’s coal fire, organizing raw materials, and swinging the hammer, the past 10 hours were a lesson in endurance.

Dad had finished the commissioned sword, which would undoubtedly be the envy of many a nobleman. He instructed the boys to complete a nice to-do list before leaving to deliver it. When Danar Deepiron left a list, he expected it to be done, and done right. The boys didn’t cut corners. Their father wasn’t only meticulous with the working of metal, he had the same demanding criteria with maintaining the smithy. After years of working with their dad, the boys had this down to an art. Most blacksmiths wouldn’t require such a thorough daily cleaning, but most blacksmiths weren’t master smiths. As they placed the last scraps of metal in the bins, swept the last specks of ash and dust off the floor, and wiped all the tools wiped down with oil before placing them in their designated spots; the boys sighed. They were well and truly ready for a good night’s sleep.

As they walked home, the brothers reminisced about their adventures. Tanrin had always been there to balance out the seriousness of Thorben, which some considered overly serious. He was always dragging Thorben into some scheme or another. Thorben had to admit that he often only put up a token argument of refusal. He frequently dived in willingly. “There was that time that you snuck into Yab Redbeard’s brewery.” Thorben said, recalling the time that Tanrin had attempted to get drunk back when they were young kids.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“I was twelve! How was I to know what ale tasted like? I thought it was supposed to taste like that!” Tanrin justified himself.

“Yes, but you drank damn near eight mugs of wort before realizing something was amiss!” Thorben chuckled.

“I was sick like you wouldn’t believe the next day,” admitted Tanrin. “Wish I would have known the finished stuff was on the next rack over! That story would have a whole different ending,” laughed Tanrin. “Yab put a new lock on the next day, and no one has successfully sneaked in since.”

“If you didn’t leave a trace of your presence, he wouldn’t have. In your rush to vomit, you knocked over three barrels of wort, which broke open and covered his floor.” Thorben said with a chuckle. “My brother the rogue!”

“At least I strummed up some business for dad. Yab paid dad well for that lock. A premium for a rushed job, if I remember it right.” Tanrin said, in an effort to shine a more positive light on his failed foray into imbibing alcohol.

Laughter echoed off the walls as they walked through the market cave. A few shopkeepers were still packing up, but there weren’t many people around. The laughter immediately put Thorben on edge. It was a cruel laughter, a haughty laughter, and Thorben knew trouble had found him again. They had forced him to deal with this type of laughter his whole life. Damn it! How did this happen? We let ourselves become distracted to the point that these morons snuck up on us?

“Well, well, if it isn’t our resident tree-licker!” A voice dripping with disdain said. “Ready to kiss my boots on this fine evening, you pointy-eared fuck?” Other voices chuckled in response and the brothers found themselves surrounded.

“Tanrin, did you organize a party for me?” Thorben asked with false appreciation dripping off his tongue, pointedly ignoring the ringleader’s acidic stare. As an elf in the world of dwarfs, he’d heard every insult the bigoted asshole in front of him could get his equally bigoted father to teach him.

“Wasn’t me brother, this is the work of a novice,” said Tanrin. “Honestly, it hurts that you could even think I would have a hand in such a lackluster performance.”

“Thank goodness. I was worried you had really started slipping. If I was going to give it feedback in sandwich form, I would say the surprise was okay. No food, no drink, and honestly, the entertainment would have been the worst part! I mean, who hires a troupe of rock for brains, light-weight, small dicked, brothel jizz cleaners for entertainment?!” Said Thorben.

“There’s a lot of meat in that sandwich. What about the last piece of bread?” Asked Tanrin, as he positioned himself back to back with Thorben.

“That’s one thing I like about you, Tanrin. You always set me up for success. There isn’t enough room for another piece of bread. Too much meat in that sandwich, just like has been in this group’s mouths. Oh, and duck,” Said Thorben.

As he had predicted based on the way the dwarf’s arm muscles had tensed, a fist sailed over their heads as they ducked. “They threw the first punch, brother. They have surrounded us. By my count, we have checked off mom and dad’s list for when it’s acceptable to have a little fun. Shall we?” Tanrin inquired.

“I thought you would never ask!” Exclaimed Torben. His face transformed from one of calm joking to borderline homicidal in the matter of seconds. “No one insults me and walks away.”

People rumored Elves were the picture of tranquility, but they would consider Thorben the black sheep of the species if what he had heard was true.

“Just try not to kill them, brother.” Tanrin said.

“You dare to talk to me like that, you beardless worm! My dad will have your head for this!” an enraged dwarf screamed, spittle flying.

“Shut up, Dorn!” Tanrin and Thorben yelled simultaneously. Dorn was the son of a local politician. Daddy and mommy had heaped him with whatever he fancied, and now he was under the impression that the world revolved around him.

“Jinx, you owe me an ale,” Tanrin exclaimed excitedly.

Words fled as circumstances forced them into action. Five dwarfs attacking two worn out from a day working in the smithy was not a time for casual conversation. Luckily, their mother, Kali, first in command of the War Hammers, had trained them since birth. Each of them could wield almost any weapon, whether it be melee or ranged, with deadly efficiency. Word had spread that they would soon to be asked to do a short stint in the dwarven army as a formality before being accepted into the war hammers themselves.

Tanrin, being a dwarf, possessed a build like an ox, yet his mother’s training had made him as nimble as a spider monkey. He was bobbing and weaving throughout the group, landing blows wherever he could. Thorben, being an elf, towered over dwarfs his age. While not his brother’s equal, being the son of a master blacksmith had built muscles bigger than most. Muscles that were put these to good use as he used a mix of kicks and punches to put down anybody that got too close.

The brothers seemed to have the upper hand, but Dorn’s gang wasn’t a pushover. While their training comprised bullying younger dwarves, their natural physique and ability were nothing to scoff at. Tanrin sported a black eye and busted lip. Thorben was sure he had a cracked rib or two, along with multiple bruises, and maybe a slight concussion. Three of Dorn’s gang were out of commission, knocked out. Two were still in it.

Thorben looked over to see that Dorn had Tanrin in a hold, and Tanrin’s face was turning blue. The rage kicked in. Without thinking of the consequences, he charged his current opponent and kicked him as hard as he could in the crotch, following up with an uppercut to the chin. A high-pitched squeal similar to a boar piglet’s whine quickly cut off, and then a resounding thud followed. His opponent was out before he hit the ground. Thorben then charged Dorn.

Dorn, seeing his lackey’s all down for the count, threw Tanrin to the ground and tried to run. The tranquility of the elves could be damned. His rage fueled him. Thorben was quicker and kicked Dorn in the back of the head. Dorn went down, and an enraged Thorben flipped him onto his back and pounded his face while screaming, “How’s it feel to get your ass kicked by an elf? You piece of shit!” Blood flew through the air, splattering on the cavern walls and dripping down to the ground. He was pretty sure a tooth had skittered across the stone floor. Thorben observed all of this in a strange, yet satisfying, detached, crazed state of mind. Dorn had made his childhood a living hell on many an occasion. This would be the last.

As he was about to land another punch, he saw a streak out of the corner of his eye. Something collided with him hard, knocking him off Dorn. Before everything went to black, he thought he saw words flash in his field of vision:

* H.U.D. Unlocked

* Experience gained