The barman could be heard arguing with a female that was out of view within what was undoubtedly the kitchen. He was pretty adament that he be the one that took the food and drink to the companions, despite the female protesting on the grounds he never usually moved his ‘fat ass’ from behind the bar.
Carrying the four large bowls along one of his huge muscular arms, his other held a full loaf of bread thickly cut. He placed them down gently upon the table, before placing a bowl in front of each of them. The bread he set in the middle so as to be shared.
“I shall get your mead now,” he said politely.
“No need, I have them here.” A waif of a woman had followed the barman carrying the four flagons, two in each hand. She looked tiny when stood next barman, however her stubbornness and attitude put her equally on par with him. “Anything else we can get for you generous folk?” she asked, a beaming smile partially seen beneath floppy brown hair, as she placed the tankards town.
Angry, the barman was about to put the serving wench over his shoulder and carry her back to the kitchen, however Jax, not looking up from his stew as he mopped it up with a piece of bread, answered her question.
“Where might I go about finding an elf within Droxburg?”
“An elf you say?” replied the barman, the sound levels within the tavern reduced to a mild whisper. “Not many come within the city.”
“But if they did,” he took another bite from his bread laden with stew, “Where might I find one?”
The barman shrugged his huge shoulders, looking around his patrons for their insight, but it was the wench that spoke.
“The fletchers or butchers.”
“What are you talking about woman?” laughed the barman, “get back in the kitchen where you belong.”
Rohlen stood and ushered for her to stay. “Actually they are very sensible suggestions. An elf’s weapon of choice is usually a bow, and if they hunt game, then making some coin from trading with the local butchers would make sense.”
Taking a gold coin from his own purse, he gave it to the woman. She held it tightly for it was the most valuable thing she’d ever owned. Her eyes sparkled brightly, her smile bigger than ever and then she was gone. With fleet of foot she ran from the tavern.
“We should be taking our leave also,” said Rohlen to his still feasting companions, much to the disdain of Tumbor. As Jax and Yulien stood and readied themselves, the dwarf was busy stuffing his pockets with the remaining bread and finishing the mead left in the tankards.
It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the mage that a number of the patrons had made a hasty exit also. No doubt their paths would cross again along one of Droxburg’s alleyways.
“You really fooled that poor serving wench,” said Tumbor to Rohlen.
“With the fake coin,” laughed the dwarf. “She’s probably busy arguing with an appraiser as we speak.”
“It was real!” said Rohlen in shock. “Weren’t yours?”
“As fake as a beard on an elf.”