For All the Things
"How drunk are you? It's clearly a woman you've had your hands on, a bit too roughly if you ask me." At the sound of your feminine voice, the dwarf's eyes widened as he stammered. "A-ah... aye, that ye are, lass. My 'pologies, an' fer roughin' ye up, too. Ye see, I was worried ye'd slip away an' I'd lose sight o' ye in the night. My eyesight ain't what it used ter be. An' bef're ye says somethin', I think we ought ter sit. Wantin' ter avoid the eyes o' others, as it were."
You felt a headache coming on as you questioned the dwarf's logic, having just barreled into you and causing a scene. Deciding to humor him, you took your seat in the corner as the dwarf sat opposite you, obscuring your view from questioning eyes.
"The name's Barunlad," the dwarf spoke quietly as he reached into an inner pocket in his overcoat and began rummaging around. "Barunlad Firebeard, though ye can an' should call me Bourbon... now where are ye?" Out of his pocket he pulled a few golden beads akin to the ones in his beard, a small length of braided rope, an open pouch of what appeared to be peanuts, a reed flute, and a flask of copper-colored liquid. "Aha! There ye are. It takes a bit o' diggin', but pockets are good fer keepin' yer treasures close ter ye, ain't they?" He then placed a rolled up scroll of parchment on the table along with an elaborate looking golden pen and a vial of black ink. Grabbing a couple peanuts and popping them into his mouth with one hand, the dwarf unfurled the parchment with the other and began to write.
Curious, you lean forward to get a better look. Despite your initial impression of him, Bourbon's handwriting was flowing and elegant, the kind of penmanship reserved for wedding invitations and pompous nobility. Mesmerized by his deft hand movements, you were caught unaware when suddenly Anna, the youngest of the Nolland sisters, peeked out from behind the dwarf and spoke.
"What's that you're writin'? Gods, that's beautiful, isn't it? Where'd you learn to write like that?" Startled, Bourbon jumped, but before he could say anything, Anna turned to you, her curly red locks flowing with her movement. "Hey Stranger, Noralyn wanted to apologize 'cause one of her ale experiments mighta found its way to you. She's busy in the back so I told her I could apologize for her. Is everythin' alright? I could give you and your fancy friend here experiment-free ales on the house." She turned back towards Bourbon. "We don't get dwarven folk often visitin' our tavern. They usually stick to the Spires to the west. What's got you so close to the coast? And what's all that stuff on the table? Can you play that flute?" Stunned by the barrage of questions, you and the dwarf just looked at eachother, speechless. Snapping out of it, you shift your gaze to Anna, who was waiting expectantly.
"Free is free, I suppose..."
Your head hurts too much for this.