Trials of the Half-Elven

Chapter 1: Spring Showers

Vedun was a small village near the north eastern coast of Kanon, a couple miles off the main road that traveled north to Flambage, and then into Alania. It was a farming village, and occasionally a traveler’s rest stop. The little town was surrounded by a patchwork of varied crops, and a small wooded area in the east. As the village was a little out of the way of most travelers, there was only one inn; the Silver Sword Inn. It was a moderate sized building, two stories high, room enough for fifteen guests on the top level, though it was more often used as the tavern for locals. The rest of the village was mostly residences, with a few other official buildings for business and politics. All in all, Vedun was a normal Lodoss village.

Five years ago, however, Vedun was an occupied village. In the year 510, the Marmo Empire expanded into Lodoss. Much of Kanon was destroyed, but Vedun was spared. Some would have called it cowardice, others would call it prudence; but when the armies came to Vedun, the mayor bowed to their will and submitted the village to Marmo rule. It was five years ago that the Free Army drove the Marmo back, and Vedun was restored. There was only one visible remnant of the occupation, and that was Olula Remel.

Half-dark elf, conceived of rape by a dark elf upon her human mother, Olula’s dark skin and long, pointed ears were the only Marmo presence left in the village. However, this was of no concern to any of the locals. Olula had been a sweet child, and now she had grown up into a beautiful young woman. For all her physical differences, her personality won out, and she integrated nicely into society, which was far more than many of her fellow half-elves, and especially half-dark elves, could ever have. Unfortunately for Olula, this would not last forever.

Several years ago, she had learned that she could live for as long as five hundred years, and over time, she came to realize she could never have a normal life. Were she to chose any of the young men who had expressed an interest in her, she would stay young and beautiful while she watched them whither away and eventually die. If she had children, she could very well outlive them as well. This concern shaped her life, and Olula had vowed to remain chaste until she could find a man who wouldn’t suffer that fate along with her.

Now, at the age of twenty, Olula spent her days working in the local inn, the same place her mother had worked for many years. Her goal, when she started working here three years ago, was to save up enough money to fund traveling. She intended to leave Vedun behind and make a life for herself out in the world, away from the sorrow brought by the thought of staying in the village. Recently though, her mother had taken ill and had to stop working at the Silver Sword. Olula and the other inn staff had been putting a little money aside each week to afford travel and healing. The local doctor could do nothing, but he gave Natia at least a year before the illness overtook her.

The half-dark elf girl leaned on the bar in front of her, her elbow propped up on the counter, supporting her chin on the back of her hand. Her weight was on her left foot, while the right wrapped around behind her ankle, and her left hip jutted to the side. Tables were cleaned, chairs pushed in, and an inviting fire crackled in the hearth. In the kitchen behind her, the smell of roasting meat and potatoes wafted in. Barak, the cook, was preparing lunch. Upstairs, her fellow barmaid, Lirra, was making sure the rooms were in order. The common room was empty, but it probably wouldn’t be for long. The morning had rolled in overcast, and not too long ago rain began pelting the roof. It was a heavy spring deluge, coming off the tail end of winter, so even though the roof was a floor above her, the sound of raindrops could be heard down where she stood. The long, tapered ears of her half-elven heritage probably attributed to it as well.

* * *

Soggy, wet, and damp, Thangroth sloshed through the mud. The young dwarf had set out from his roadside camp a few hours ago. Had he any sense, he would have found himself a dry place to sit and wait out the storm, but Thangroth was used to the mines. He didn’t think much of the weather when he woke to thick, dark clouds but he was kicking himself now. His thick, dark blue cloak had been soaked through in the downpour, and all he wanted for was a nice warm hearth and something equally warm in his belly.

It seemed he was in luck; there was a side road into the pasture lands with a sign that proclaimed that the village of Vedun was just a mile up the road. Thangroth hefted his beloved warhammer on his shoulder and trudged on, gaining a little momentum with the promise of a village ahead.

As he entered the heart of the village, the red-headed dwarf was greeted by the sight of an two-story inn in the center of town, the largest building in the small farming community. Above the door hung a well-maintained signed with a painting of a sword bearing Kanon heraldry, and marked as the ‘Silver Sword Inn’. Thangroth cared little for what the place was called, and he eagerly stepped through the doors.

He did his best to scrape the mud off his boots and shake off the excess water as he stepped inside, but inevitably, the dwarf tracked in enough mud and dripped enough water to keep the maids busy for the day. However, if the storm drove anyone else through these doors, he wouldn’t be the only one to blame for the mess. The smells of beer and wine and baking bread made his stomach growl; it would be good to have something better than trail biscuits and water for a change.

Stepping up toward the bar, Thangroth noticed a pretty girl behind the bar, but what he first noted was her dark complexion and her long, tapered ears. However, he had seen a couple elves in his day, and he noticed that the girl’s ears were a bit shorter than usual, marking her as a half-elf. Without voicing his curiosity about her heritage, he spoke, “I’d like a meal, wine, and a room, if ye please.”

The barmaid’s blue-grey eyes examined the hefty hammer he carried, but he didn’t appear threatening apparently, as she only nodded in response to him and said, “Alright. I’ll see to it,” before turning back to the kitchen to handle his order.

Once the girl moved away, Thangroth made his way to the table nearest the crackling hearth. He leaned his hammer against the wall, then removed his thoroughly drenched coat and hung it on the back of a chair facing the hearth. Thangroth then finally hauled himself up into a chair and gave a heavy sigh of relief as he began to warm his hands in front of the fire.

* * *

As expected, Thangroth was not the only person the rain had driven to Vedun. Krisatris, a half-elven ranger, had been traveling along the road to Flambage when the rain began this morning. While she often loved Spring showers, she had to admit defeat today. She was soaked to the bone and had begun to shiver from the chills. When she saw the sign to Vedun, she eagerly followed the road until it led to the Silver Sword Inn. With a need for food and warmth, Krisatris paused at the door just long enough to kick the mud off the soles of her thigh-high green leather boots and shake her head of short brown hair.

As she entered the inn, Krisatris gave a heavy sigh and leaned back against the door for a moment to catch her breath. She could already feel the warmth of the fire filling the room. “Damn, I’m exhausted,” she murmured to herself, and as the smells of the kitchen came wafting toward her, her stomach complained as well. The half-elf placed her hand on her stomach, covered by the leather jerkin she wore. “Alright, alright. I hear you, she grumbled in reply to her stomach.

She noticed that the common room was quite empty, save for a dwarf sitting in front of the fire. If there was any staff, they were elsewhere in the building. I’ll wait a bit for them, she thought to herself. Krisatris was in a good mood, after all, despite the fact that she was utterly drenched from the downpour.

Eager to warm up, she made her way across the room toward the fire where the dwarf sat. She was not the most sociable individual, but he had the best seat in the house on a day like today, so Krisatris moved to a chair on the other side of the table. “Mind if I have a seat?” she asked the dwarf.

“Oh, not at all lass! I wouldn’t think of keepin’ this fire all to myself,” he replied with a friendly grin beneath his bushy red beard. He looked quite young to Krisatris, but she knew little of how well dwarves aged compared to humans.

Krisatris smiled to him gratefully and pulled out the chair to sit down. “Thanks,” she said. Well, I might as well give sociability a chance... she thought to herself, then reached her hand across the table to him. “My name is Krisatris.”

The dwarf returned her greeting in kind, shaking her hand firmly and warmly. “Don’t mention it. The name is Thangroth Broadarm, miss Kris...” he struggled over her name.

“Krisatris,” the half-elf replied. “You can just call me Kris if you’d like.” She said with a smile. Her name was rather long after all, and though she rather liked it, most people just called her Kris for short.

“Ah, Krisatris. Quite an interesting name there, but I believe I will just stick with Kris then,” the dwarf replied with a chuckle.

* * *

Barak, the cook, had served up a plate for Thangroth and Olula stepped out of the kitchen to catch a glance of another patron sitting at the dwarf’s table while she went to the bar to get him his wine. When no specific wine requests were made, Olula always picked out one of the local vintages. With the plate gracefully balanced on the palm of her upturned hand, and the bottle of wine and a goblet in the other, Olula brought the meal to the table and set it beside Thangroth. As she did, she noticed the new customer’s ears, which were just like hers. However, she didn’t allow her excitement at meeting another half-elf distract her.

“Here you are, sir,” she spoke to Thangroth. “We have roast mutton, potatoes, and carrots this afternoon. If there is anything else, just call me! My name is Olula,” she explained with a warm, friendly smile. Popping the cork on the wine bottle, she began to pour it into the goblet and her eyes drifted to Krisatris, though she was still mindful of the drink and stopped pouring before it spilled.

After serving Thangroth, she set the wine on the table. “Can I get you anything?” she asked the half-elf.

“Yes, please!” the girl replied eagerly. “I’ll have what he’s having.” Krisatris was quite new to inn dining, and so she took no risks in asking for anything else.

“Ye can even share me wine, lass,” Thangroth added before tucking into his meal voraciously. Krisatris looked rather shocked at the display as he shoveled food into his mouth.

“Alright, I’ll be right back,” Olula said with a smile, then turned on her heel to hurry back to the kitchen.

Thangroth seemed to catch Krisatris’s wide green-eyed stare as he wolfed down his meal, and he realized he had forgotten his manners. Wiping his mouth, he set down his fork for a moment and began to chuckle. “Ha! What a motley pair we are; I, a dwarf, sharing a meal and wine with a slip of an elf girl. If me father and brothers saw me, they’d think I’d lost hold of my senses!” the dwarf guffawed. “Ah well, one makes his own path, I suppose. So Kris, what say you? Have we lost hold of our senses, or are we merely two weary travelers sharing a meal and enjoying the warmth of this fine inn. Ye must admit it’s better than bein’ out in the cold rain, no?”

Krisatris laughed lightly with color in her cheeks shyly at Thangroth’s speech. “I suppose it’s all just chance,” she replied. “But I’m only half-elf, if that counts for anything, and I don’t even know my real parents. I can’t say I’ve ever really gotten to know a dwarf either.”

“Better late than never, I suppose!” Thangroth announced gleefully. The dwarf began to eat again, but at a much slower, more polite pace.

* * *

Olula returned to the kitchen after taking Krisatris’s request, nearly floating into the room. She was excited to meet another half-elf. “I need another plate,” she requested to the cook, then murmured, “This is so weird...”

“What is?” Barak asked, glancing back at her as he began to prepare another slice of mutton.

“First a dwarf, and now another half-elf!” Olula replied excitedly.

“Darky or lighty?” Barak asked as he laid a slice of meat on a fresh plate.

“Light, it looks like. She’s probably half-common elf,” Olula mused as she waited.

“Probably from the Kanon forests, originally, or at least one of her folks were,” Barak supposed as he added the vegetables to Krisatris’s plate. The cook passed the metal plate over to Olula and licked some of the meat juices off his thumb. “I’m sure it’s odd, but it ain’t our place to go askin’ questions.”

Olula balanced the plate on her hand and went to fetch another goblet for Krisatris’s wine. “I’ll tell ye though, that elf blood sure makes ye graceful,” Barak added with a friendly wink. Olula blushed in response to the compliment and continued back to the common room to deliver the meal.

* * *

As the rainstorm carried on, a merchant’s wagon rolled by the side-road leading up to Vedun from the main Flambage road. A young man in armor hopped out of the back of the wagon, shouted a quick thanks to the driver, then put his helmet on as a meager defense from the rain. The full helm kept most of his head dry, but water still trickled down his face through the plates. He then began his trek toward the village of Vedun. Some time ago, when the rain started, Derrick Ironfist had been on foot, but luckily, the trader’s wagon had come up behind him, and the merchant was kind enough to offer him a dry ride to the next town. The merchant was bound straight for Shinning Hill, but Derrick was eager to see more of the countryside of Kanon before making his way to the big city.

Five days ago, the young adventurer had made a name for himself when he helped a small hamlet to the north, Aldry, fend off a horde of goblins and their pet ogre. They were remnants of the Marmo army, left behind five years ago, and out of desperation, had begun attacking Aldry for resources. As an aspiring hero, and well-armed at that, Derrick had charged into battle and slew the ogre. His heroics were the talk of the town, and the tales had begun to filter to nearby villages. It did wonders for the young man’s ego.

After making his way up the muddy road to Vedun, Derrick came upon the inn, much to his joy. The young adventurer pushed through the doors and stepped inside, making quite an imposing figure. The full armor he wore was intimidating, as were the weapons he carried. Strapped across his back was the scabbard for his longsword, and from his belt hung both a dagger and an elven morningstar—likely of dark elven make as it had been recovered from the horded gold and weapons in the goblin cave outside of Aldry. However, as he entered, he politely removed his helm to reveal a youthful face that was in no way intimidating. His hair was dark brown and curled, with a noticeable cowlick at the brow, his eyes brown, and there was a small scrape just above his left eyebrow—a souvenir from his battle days before.

From the time between Krisatris’s arrival and Derrick’s arrival, a few locals had come to the inn for an early lunch. Three farmhands sat at the bar, enjoying warm drinks and a break from work. When Derrick entered, they scrutinized him and then muttered amongst themselves.

Derrick had been surprised to see a dwarf and elf at the inn, let alone sitting together, and judging by their garb, he assumed that they were travelers as well. As his eyes scanned the common room, he spotted a woman with dark skin and pointed ears and his hand immediately moved for his dagger... until he noticed the comely maid’s uniform she wore. Perhaps she was nothing to worry about...

The young adventurer moved over to the table by the hearth and set his bag and kite shield beside the table and sat down with the mismatched pair. Laying his helm on the table and removing his guantlets, he revealed a ring on his right hand of hammered white gold and set with an emerald cut in a delicate fashion resembling elven styles. Despite the light from the fire falling on the ring, it did not sparkle.

“He looks like the fellow that helped save Aldry a couple days ago...” one of the farmhands from the bar spoke, though his voice was rather audible.

“The lad that tackled an ogre all by himself?” one of his companions asked.

Overhearing the conversation, Derrick immediately had to bathe in his newfound fame and cast a glance over his shoulder to the three farmhands. “Yes, I am the Hero of Aldry,” he spoke, with no small measure of pride. “I defeated the Hobgoblin leader and several of his cronies, as well as the ogre that was with them.” Wow, news travels fast! Derrick thought gleefully. I’m already on my way to becoming a legendary adventurer, just like Parn, or Kashue. The young man turned his attention to the two guests he shared a table with, who now regarded him with rather curious expressions. Perhaps these two would like to join me. It couldn’t hurt to ask...

Putting on a friendly smile, Derrick introduced himself; “Hello, I am Derrick Ironfist, and as you have already heard, I’m an adventurer who helped in Aldry’s defense against goblin raiders and an ogre. May I ask who you are?” Without bothering to wait for an immediate answer, he realized that he could catch the dwarf’s attention better if he let him know how well acquainted he was with his kind. “Greetings, sir dwarf. I hope you are doing well,” he spoke in dwarven.

“Well, well, a hero, eh?” Thangroth replied, seemingly rather unimpressed by the boy’s lack of manners. “You know, boy, the first part of being a hero is being humble and being humble means manners. You sat, and nary a once did you ask if you could join us. Nor did you incline as to if you were intruding on our conversation.” The dwarf’s expression brightened though as he cracked a friendly grin. “Still rough around the edges, you are, but welcome! I am Thangroth Broadarm, at your service, and I’ll be glad to further instruct you in the proper way of manners.”

Krisatris, however, seemed disinclined to humor Derrick with a response and only eyed the young man suspiciously as she ate her meal. The half-elf’s ears flicked a few times, annoyed at Derrick’s pompous attitude, but she continued eating, doing her best to ignore the boy. It was then that Olula came back about after tending to the men at the bar.

Putting one hand on the back of Derrick’s chair and the other on her hip, Olula gave her most accommodating smile and greeted the new patron. “Well, Derrick Ironfist, the renowned hero of Aldry! Welcome to our humble little inn, we’re honored to have a local hero with us. Would you like a meal and a drink? It’s on the house for you,” the barmaid explained.

“I would, thank you, miss,” Derrick replied with a smile as he looked up at the half-dark elf. It seemed that despite her dark skin, there was nothing to worry about. “I’ll have whatever’s on the house and a cup of tea.”

“Sure thing,” Olula replied, then turned back to the kitchen.

As he polished off his meal, Thangroth eyed Derrick curiously, his steel gray gaze drifting toward Krisatris as well. “Well then, aside from the foul weather, what brings all ye weary travelers here?” the dwarf asked.

Derrick took the initiative and began to tell his tale... in great detail; “I was born in a small farming town called Ivory Rose, in the north of Alania, near Novice, where I lived with my parents and my little sister, Jasmine. When I was three years old, the Marmo invaded Kanon, but Ivory Rose was too far north to be affected, even as the Marmo army advanced northward. Despite my happy childhood, I began to believe that the life of a farmer was not for me. I would always love to listen to the town’s storyteller tell tales of adventurers. I decided to become an adventurer. I often dreamed of the day people would tell stories of my adventures. When I turned fifteen, the Marmo invaded Alania and my town’s militia, which had been preparing for war long before Marmo stormed into Alania. The militia gave those sons of demon spawn a good arse-kicking. The Marmo were never able to even get near the town because of the militia. The blasted Marmo finally had to retreat, because Parn, Spark, and their friends were causing problems for Marmo. Although my dad wouldn’t allow me to join the town militia, the captain of the militia saw that I had the potential to become a warrior, and so, he taught me how to fight and use a sword and shield.

“My parents were worried about my safety, but they finally decided to let me follow my dreams. Dad gave me an enchanted longsword that had been in own family for many years. As a going-away present, the militia captain gave me a suit of burnished banded mail armor. One of my friends who I’ve known for a long time, a dwarf, who happened to be the son of the town blacksmith, made for me a small dwarven steel dagger. This dwarf was the same person who taught me how to speak, read, and write Dwarven, as well as how to take care of my armor and weapons.” Derrick chuckled as he looked to Thangroth. “I have to say that you dwarves really known how to take care of your equipment. The militia owns a great deal of thanks to you dwarves. My town wouldn’t be here today, if it hadn’t been for you dwarves.

“Jasmine, on the other hand, didn’t like the idea of her brother leaving home. I promised her that I would return home one day. She asked me when I was coming back, and I told her that I didn’t know when, but I assured her that I would return. When I turned seventeen I told everyone in town goodbye, as I set off to become the adventurer I dreamed of becoming. I hoped to find wealth and glory, all the while helping people and fighting monsters. I hoped to find my destiny as an adventurer...”

* * *

Olula had returned to the kitchen before Derrick’s ‘epic’, and as Barak served up another plate, she watched from the kitchen door as his tale drew on. She didn’t care to hear his entire tale. Despite her hospitality, she found the boy rather rude. The half-elf turned back into the kitchen to speak to Barak.

“It looks like that fellow who helped Aldry has made his way here,” she told the cook.

“Oh? What’s ’e like?” Barak asked as he finished ladling out gravy over the meat.

Olula tipped her chin up, sticking her perked nose in the air. “I think it’s gone to his head already,” she commented, unimpressed. “He just walked in and sat at that table with the dwarf and half-elf without asking,” Olula explained and shook her head. Derrick was droning on about his early life in the background. Olula’s right ear twitched frustratedly that she could still hear him. “Now he’s reciting his life’s story to them... in great detail.” Glancing back out to the common room again she added; “He’s younger than I expected too. He can’t be a day over nineteen.”

“Well from what I hear, he’s skilled for a man twice his age. Killed a whole tribe of goblins an’ their pet ogre,” Barak replied, giving an extra helping of meat on Derrick’s plate.

“You know how skewed rumors can get,” Olula shot back. It was becoming apparent that she didn’t think much of the young man with the inflated ego. “Besides, it doesn’t give him the right to barge in on other people.”

“Well, regardless of what he did exactly, he did help save that village,” Barak replied, passing Derrick’s plate to Olula. The half-elf gave a “hmph” in response and set the plate aside while she prepared Derrick’s tea.

* * *

Without giving pause for Thangroth or Krisatris to speak up, Derrick continued on to his heroic deeds in Aldry. “I had traveled around a great deal, and was about to give up of becoming an adventurer, when I came upon a small fishing hamlet called Aldry near the Alania-Kanon border. Just as I neared the village, I saw smoke coming from it. I rushed to the village to see if I could help in anyway possible. That’s when I saw it. A large band of goblins and an ogre lead by a really ugly-looking hobgoblin was attacking the village.

“The battle looked like it was almost over, but I didn’t really care. I just drew my sword and charged headlong into the fray. After killing some of the goblins, I began to fight the hobgoblin leader. He nearly broke my arm with that damned spiked chain of his. After lopping his head off, some of the surviving goblins turned tail and ran—right into the village guards’ pikes. The only thing left now was the ogre, and it looked like she was the real leader behind the raid because she was calling out orders to the goblins to stand and fight, or she would eat them for supper, or something like that. I don’t speak goblin, or whatever language ogres use, so I really don’t know for sure. I was able to get behind her, climbed a nearby tree, and jumped right onto her back. She began jumping up and down, swinging her arms around, like she was trying to dance, all the while trying to grab me with her huge hands. I was finally able to drive my sword through her skull, instantly killing her. I almost got crushed as her lifeless body tumbled to the ground. Luckily, I jumped off her back at the last minute. However, I knocked my helmet off and cut my face on a rock.” Derrick pointed to the scrape above his left eyebrow.

“The mayor thanked me for coming to the hamlet’s aid. They named me the Hero of Aldry and gave me two gems as a reward. After leaving the small village, I came upon some ancient tomb that the goblins had been using as a hide-out. Unfortunately, the place looked like it had already been cleaned out long before I came along. My curiosity got the best of me, and after taking a closer look, I discovered a cache of weapons. Most of them were pretty poorly made, but this elven steel morningstar shone like a beacon, and so I took it. I then hitched a ride on a merchant’s wagon on my way to Kanon. And here I am now.”

Sitting back into his chair, Derrick said, “By the way, do you mind telling me what you two are doing, if you don’t mind my asking?” Turning to the dwarf, he asked him directly first. “So, Thangroth, what brought you to Vedun?”

Krisatris stared blankly at Derrick after he finally finished his story, and gave one heavy blink. That was the longest and possibly the least interesting story she had ever heard. She had finished her meal in the beginning of the story, but she was dumbfounded as it dragged on.

Thangroth had tried to hold back yawns as he listened to Derrick’s tale, and succeeded for the most part, forcing himself to breath through his nose entirely to avoid being rude to the young man, no matter how irksome the boy was becoming. The dwarf lifted his goblet of wine and tipped it toward Derrick. “Hmph,” Thangroth grunted when Derrick finally finished. “A meal, dry bed, and short tales. Lad, I like ye, but for a hero, ye be long winded.” The dwarf took a drink of his wine, polishing off the last of his wine before reaching for the bottle to pour himself another. “I seek my way in the land, it’s as simple as that,” he offered with a wink in response to Derrick’s question.

For all his manners and friendly demeanor, Thangroth was still a dwarf and sometimes he could be as gruff and as endearing as the best of them. He was slow to warm up to any new scruff who had seen just to join them with no pretext, but Thangroth had to admit that the boy had potential. He did just save some people from some very nasty customers, after all, and that counted for quite a bit.

“I’m just a wanderer,” Krisatris spoke up with a shrug. She had to admit that her own story was more wrought with emotion and pain that Derrick’s, but she was not one to ask for pity or sympathy. “I have been traveling Kanon for a long time in search of the men who murdered my human family.” She didn’t want to explain further. “That’s why I’m here. Just a rest stop, really,” Krisatris added, managing as cheerful a smile as she could manage to avoid saying more about the grim fate of her family.

Derrick’s brown eyes fell to the table top as sympathy filled his features. He knew what it was like to lose family, but not in such a violent way. The young adventurer looked up at the half-elf. “I understand. If you like, I will help you find the ones responsible for taking your family away from you,” he offered.

Krisatris shifted in her seat, squirming in discomfort. She didn’t want to bring so much attention to herself. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, she thought to herself. If she wanted help, she wasn’t sure if it was Derrick that she wanted to help her.

Thangroth could only shake his head slightly as the young warrior spoke. He was a talkative fellow for sure. The dwarf finished off his wine, he listened to the last of the conversation, his mind wandering back to a time when his father told him there’d be days like this with nothing better to do but drink and make merry to pass the time. He looked forlornly at the wine bottle; there was still some left, but he had a craving for something stouter.

Olula returned from the kitchen with a façade of hospitality again as she carried Derrick’s heaping plate and a cup of tea. “Here you are, sir,” she said as she set the plate and cup before him. “If you need anything else, just call me. My name is Olula,” she told him, then began to move around the table gathering Thangroth and Krisatris’s clean plates.

Thangroth was relieved to see the barmaid return as she brought Derrick’s plate and cleared the table. The dwarf set the wine goblet on his plate as she took it. “Ah, a vision of loveliness has returned!” he crooned, flattering the barmaid. Reaching into his belt pouch, he fished out a few silvers and laid them on the table for her as a tip. “I’d like a flagon of mead, if ye please, and a few spice cakes for dessert, if ye have them. Mayhap they’ll keep the lad here too busy munching to spout another long tale,” Thangroth added with a chuckle, eying Derrick. The dwarf gave him a solid pat on the shoulder; if the fellow as going to be friendly with them, then he’d be friendly as well. After all, there had to be some truth to his tale.

Olula smiled to the kind dwarf pleasantly and as she balanced both plates in her hand, she scooped the coins into the pocket of her apron. “Thank you, I’ll see what we have in stock,” she replied.

Taking a cue from the dwarf, Krisatris found a few coins for Olula as well. “It was good,” she said cheerfully, if a little shyly, to the barmaid.

“I’m glad,” Olula replied to Krisatris, gathering up her tip as well.

“Thank you for the meal, Olula,” Derrick said. As the others tipped the barmaid, he decided he’d give her something to make up for his rude behaviour, and he took out one of the jewels he had been given by the mayor of Aldry. “This is a tip for being so nice, and for the food,” he said, pressing a small, cut garnet into her hand.

Olula opened her hand to see the gem and grinned broadly. She could get several gold pieces for it, and she couldn’t help but let it change her opinion of Derrick. He could tell as many tales as he wanted, boring or exaggerated, so long as he tipped her like this. “Thank you so much, that’s very generous of you,” she said to Derrick. She was tempted to kiss his cheek, but decided against it and hurried back to the kitchen.

Pleased by the barmaid’s reaction, Derrick smiled and watched her leave, then turned his attention back to his tablemates. “Thanks for welcoming me, Thangroth,” he spoke to the dwarf. “I know I will enjoy being friends with you and this fine lady...” Derrick looked to the half-elf, trying to give her the most charming smile he could muster. “I don’t believe I caught your name...”

“Krisatris,” she answered curtly. “Or you can call me Kris for short.” The half-elf avoided his gaze, wiping her hands on her thigh-high boot-tops.

“Kris, then,” Derrick said. “A pleasure to meet you.” As she didn’t seem interested in talking more, Derrick began to eat, though he didn’t believe he could finish such a generous helping in one sitting...

Krisatris’s gaze drifted back toward the kitchen where she heard the sound of dishes clattering. “She’s a very nice person,” the half-elf commented on their barmaid. She too was rather curious about the other half-elf, but she was not so skilled at sociability. However, she intended to stay the night, so perhaps they would have another chance to speak and get to know one another. Kris had never met another half-elf before. How alike were their lives?

Author's Note: The characters were originally role-played by myself and others, and most of the dialogue is from the original RPs. However, I did have to remove one character, a half-elf named Reem, as her player left early in the campaign and was written out too early to leave much of an impact on the story.

Olula and Barak are © me.

Thangroth is © Keith Nickelson/singularityman.

Krisatris is © Brian Curran/Laharl.

Derrick is © Brent Hudson/barnwellknight.