Upon entering the tavern, an overpowering musk permeated in the air and soon lingered into the group’s noses. Shabby rotted wood and creaky floorboards with each step. Dust and cobwebs were strewn about in every possible corner. Several handmade tables and chairs made similar to the wood on floorboards, seemed tipped on their side or up right. At one of the tipped tables, a furry creature of black with a singular white stripe, was fast asleep. The creature reeked of booze and their own foul scent that added to the already uniquely scented area. The bar itself seemed polished and new, it gleamed of emerald and gold. Tavern stools however, showed their use, the cushions had a bit of cotton poking out every which way and the stitching's slowly coming apart. Feddwig made his way to his selection of booze as the dwarves found their seats. Nimbus uncomfortably sat with them and Fuzzy Paws remained at the front entrance as a bodyguard.
“You laddy’s goin’ to have a drink?” Feddwig said in his husky voice.
“Yee have any honey mead?” Winthorp asked in a firm tone.
Feddwig took his time searching for mead, he knew he had a bottle tucked away somewhere. Feddwig’s paws stepped on a particular floorboard under him, the sound seemed to echo throughout the empty tavern as he bent down. His tail swished from side to side, soot filling the air, causing Gabusmead to sneeze as dust settled into his nose. Feddwig finally presented a bottle of honey mead that seemed to be half full. Looking at the bottle fondly, Feddwig seemed to be filled with melancholy.
“This bottle…I saved for your father whenever he came to town. Like father like son I suppose…” Feddwig continued to stare at the bottle with nostalgia.
A somber silence flooded the tavern as emotions spilled out quietly. Nimbus, unsure of what to say or do, asked the question that has pondered his mind since they met.
“What…happened to your father Winthorp?”
“He was murdered…by his own blood.” Winthorp said bluntly and pointed at the glasses behind Feddwig. Without stalling, Feddwig presented glasses in front of Winthorp and Gabusmead.
Feddwig wasn’t light in his pour and Winthorp chugged his drink in one sitting. The burning sensation in this throat surprisingly relaxed him. Spinning his glass in his palm, he pondered how he should describe what happened to their clan.
“Me brother hatched a plan, hired some dark elf to complete his biddin’ with him. Cobble murdered our father…as well as thee village.”
“Just like that? Without a care…?” Feddwig asked and Fuzzy Paws listened intently.
“Well…thar is one important piece Winthorp is skipinn’ over.” Gabusmead said bending over to get something out of his knapsack.
Presented before the beastfolk, plopped right onto the tavern counter was a tiny being with notable pointed ears. To their dismay, an elven baby was presented right in front of them, giggling and spitting up bubbles. Fuzzy Paws then locked the tavern doors and rushed over to the bar; slamming his muscular paws on the counter.
“Are you all mad!? This is an elf!? An elven baby no less!?”
Feddwig was still at a loss for words but tried to remain composed and Nimbus was simply shaken. Fuzzy Paws snarled, crinkling his nose and baring his teeth. The elven baby seemed terrified and crawled back to Gabusmead.
“Aye, yee don’t need to scare the wee lad!” Winthorp said, anger lingering in his voice.
“You know elves are scum! I don’t care what you say, they have left us poor, hungry, and have even murdered our people! They have used us for their food or skinned us for clothes!” Fuzzy Paws seemed like he was itching for a fight which made Winthorp defensive in posture.
“And that’s why me dad fought all those years ago to protect this land!?” Winthorp said stepping onto the counter, to be the same height as Fuzzy Paws.
“Will you two calm down!?” Feddwig shouted.
The one creature that was in the bar twitched slightly at the shouting and continued to sleep near the front entrance of the tavern. Silence once again befell the tavern, Fuzzy Paws backed off from the counter and Winthorp found himself back in his bar stool.
Once they were both settled, Gabusmead began to speak, trying to be the voice of reason.
“Aye, we know our long history between the elves and us common folk. Dwarves and elves have been fightin’ for countless years due to how we’re considered barbaric and lower forms to them. We know elves strive to create a “perfect society” which means eradicating us along thee way. I know Bilgard, drove out several elven army men with our clan to protect yee guys fer’ years...decades even.”
“So, what’s with the baby?” Feddwig said curiously.
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“Well…Winthorp, being the dwarf he is, wants to give this child here a better life. Winthrop wants to break this hatred amongst us. Our clan wanted to kill this child and Winthorp even stood up to his own father.” Gabusmead continued.
Feddwig chuckled a bit to himself and filled Winthorp’s glass once more. Winthrop found Feddwig’s chuckle unexpected and struck him as puzzling.
“What do yee find funny?”
“Your father, funny enough before he met your mother, was once fascinated by an elven woman. I just find it funny that you are a peculiar lot.”
Winthorp stopped mid-chug of his drink and started to cough up the liquid. The shock of this nearly had him choke and without any warning, he broke out in his usual boisterous laughter. Gabusmead once again jumped, never prepared for that howling. Winthrop’s laugh, however, began to fade as he grasped the idea of Feddwig’s sentence.
“Me father, in love with an elven woman? Aye…what a laugh, that old fool…” Winthorp snorted at the irony.
“Your dad was serious about this woman. I didn’t know much about her but I do know it was fatal in the end.” Feddwig said, grabbing Winthorp’s glass, pouring his third.
Gabusmead; shocked to learn this information was curious about more, but was unsure how to approach this.
“What do yee feel about tis’...separation of sorts between us? Clearly, Bilgard changed after he…well…”
“I feel if you start a problem, then it’s a problem. If you don’t have a problem then it’s not a problem.” Feddwig said bluntly and earnestly.
Winthorp remained silent due the inner conflict that was building up inside of him. The confusion and rage welled up inside of him, wondering why his father kept such a secret from him. His eyebrows furrowed and fury present in his body. Gabusmead could sense this and quickly wanted to change such a sour subject.
“So, I know this be a bad time but, is there a place for lodging for us?”
Feddwig ruffled below his tavern counter, the sounds of glasses clicking and various items were thrown on the floor. Mumblings of certain curse words slipped out as more items began to thrash about.
“AHA! Found it!”
Feddwig shot up from underneath the counter with an ecstatic expression of finding an old rusty key. Feddwig handed the key to Gabusmead and looked at Nimbus.
“Show the two wee lads to their rooms Nimbus would ya?”
Nimbus nodded and hopped off the stool, he began to head toward the stairs and he looked at them perplexed. Nimbus questioned the structural integrity of the stairs and decided to simply be a guide in case one of the steps collapsed. Gabusmead hopped off and the elven infant seemed to bury his face into Gabusmead’s beard. Before Gabusmead went up the stairs, he turned to Feddwig.
“Yee have any food for the wee one? I fear he hasn’t even had a nibble since the journey started.”
“Aye, Fuzzy Paws! Fetch some apples and mash’em. There should be fresh ones at one of these vendor spots. For now, I will pour the little one some milk.”
Fuzzy Paws looked irritated at the mere request and snarled a bit. Without a word, he left to go find some apples, slamming the door as he left. Feddwig rolled his eyes as he poured the milk into a small glass. Nimbus ran down the steps and grabbed the glass from Feddwig once it was poured.
“Now, I can show you the lodging where you and little Nolan can rest.” Nimbus said gently, extending his wing and the small group trailed off upstairs.
This just left Feddwig and Winthorp; alone at the bar. Feddwig felt it appropriate to ask Winthorp questions alone, rather than in front of a group. Feddwig was aware he needed to choose his words wisely but also felt he could be honest with what struck his curiosity.
“What do you hope to accomplish, Winthorp? With the elven baby and what of your clan? And your brother?”
Pouring yet another glass of honey mead as he asked Winthorp. Twirling the liquid in the glass, watching it closely form a mini whirlpool, Winthorp knew of the answers.
“Aye, to be honest, with me brother…I am not sure what to do with’em. I mean, he killed our father, burned down our village. There were children and women who were burned alive. He’s blood but I don’t know. For the wee laddy, I feel as though I need to give him a better life. Look at me brother, without a second thought he spread blood. Hell, that wee little thing was kidnapped!”
Feddwig, intrigued by what Winthorp said, pressed forward on his questions.
“Kidnapped you say? Didn’t you say a dark elf was with your brother when he burned down the village?”
“Aye, why do you ask?”
Feddwig shook his head and tried to maintain his composure in his tone but his words trembled a bit before speaking.
“So you mean, a dark elf shows up and an elven baby just shows up outta nowhere too? Something ain’t right there…I may have some information about that dark elf. If it’s who I think it is, he is not someone you want to cross paths with.”
Winthorp slammed his fist onto the counter, causing the glasses below to vibrate from the mere pressure. Feddwig was not even phased but noticed the enraged look in Winthorp’s eyes, something that he was well acquainted with thanks to his father.
“Tell me who he is! I need to know! Who does me brother know!?”
“Your brother knows bad people. Murmurs come in and out of this crappy tavern all the time. If this is true, then you’re in for it. Elyce, also known as the ‘Eyes of the Underworld’, is the one your brother is working with. He knows plenty of dark magic to get his way around.”
Winthorp struggled to process what was told to him, visibly shaken and at a loss of words. Feddwig knew his words would have an impact but it needed to be stated. Winthorp pondered his thoughts for a moment, enraged, conflicted and left baffled.
“Me brother is the one who set this up…all of it.The kidnapping and the murder of our village. He made us all look like fools.”
“You can’t beat yourself up on one’s actions, it’s what you do now that matters.” Feddwig said plainly.
Winthorp sat on those words despite his mixed emotions. Feddwig pointed to the stairs and sealed the mead for later use.
“You look like the underside of that drunk skunk in the corner there. Why don’t you rest laddy, we can talk more later.”
Winthorp nodded and hopped off the stool. He trudged up the stairs heavily as his thoughts whirled around in his mind. His thoughts were all congested at the shock of his brother’s calculated actions. Each step he took felt like the staircase was spinning and getting farther away. Without realizing Winthorp bumped into the door which snapped him out of his trance slightly. Winthorp held onto the splintered door knob and grasped it intensely, hands shaking, his palms clammy. Winthorp felt the door knob twist and presented before him was Gabusmead.
“Aye, yee look as though yee seen a ghost…are yee alright?”