It was crowded, it was loud, it was smelly. It was full of life. Everywhere Elain looked she saw tables cluttered with people; men and women laughing and singing openly with eachother, raising their tanards along side their voices. Boys and girls in thin but modest clothing bussled about with iron trays carefully balanced in their deceptively delicate hands, dogding between the merry patrons with practiced ease.
Behind the smooth and polished bar that ran along the entire back wall, three robust females polished and filled glasses in quick, effortless movements. The calluses on their hands spoke of the had work that they had persisted in to gain the skill. Occasionally, the dwarven woman on the left would give a command to the two younger ones, barking out quick, sharp words without losing concentration or rhythm in her own work. Their features and mannerism were similar enough that the longer she stared at them, the more certain she felt that there was a blood relationship between them. Possibly even mother and daughters,
Elain was jerked out her her musings by Councilman Dondurr as he gently pulled her along behind him. He had to push and elbow a few people before they began to notice him and clear themselves out of the way, crowding back up again so quickly after he had passed through that she was shoved into his back more than a few times in the length that it took to travel the short distance from one side of the room to the other. The careless brushes of the tavern's customers would normally provide no isue for Elain to ignore, but everytime she was touched where her skin had been bruised or cut, she would flinch and bite her abused lower lip to keep from crying out.
"Tavern Mistress," her companion called out as he reached the raised wooden bench. "How has the business been for you and your daughters? If it were a little quieter, Captain Nier and I would like to share our patronage with you."
The elder of the women scowled at him, but the crows feet that stretched from the corners of her eyes crinckled with amusement as she looked over at them. "There's no need for your double-speak, Dondurr. If you want me to clear the tavern, you say it outrught to me. You hear? I have nowant for any of your politics inside these four walls - I get quite enough of that from the drunks as it is."
With those palin words ringing through the air, she clapped her hands. Twice.
Suddenly, the dwarvesstillsober enough to think and walk for themselves proceeded through the exit as quicklyas they could without running. Behind them, the drunks were being herded away by the tavern's staff. The slight figures of the boys and girls showing surprising levels of strength and determination as they forced all of the swaying idiots out of the doors without any struggle.
It was only minutes before the room was all but empty. The Tvern Mistress's daughters and all of the wait staff had all retreated through the swinging doors that lead to a back room with the aroma of food leaving it. The kitchen. They left Elain alone in a too quiet room with only the Mistress and two male dwarves for company.
It was not until the wooden boards had stopped swinging and the pound of footsteps no longer echoed from their exit that the Tavern Mistress put down the heavy glass and the fine cloth she had been using to polish it with. She turned around until she was facing them fully, her neck no longer twished past her shoulder to see them. Untying her grey cotton apron, she folded and placed it on the bar between them. She bared the full skirts of her fine silkdress to the smokeless torchlight that illuminated the building from every corner. As much as she denied it, Elain could see by the expense of her dress that this woman was more that she presented herself.
The material shimmered and shifted as she made her way around the solid bar and back towards them on the other side. She did not stop, though, until she had passed both of the other dwarves and approached Elain, coming close enough that seh could reach out and the human girl's gaunt cheek with her arm not fully extended.
"You look farmilliar girl, tellme, who was your mother?"
"M-Mistress Ronda the Weaver f-from Nor Drake."
The female dwarfsnorted, before outright throwing back her head and laughing to the old, smoke stained ceiling above them, much to Elain's apparent confusion. "Oh! Young Ronda Jacker. You look nothing like the young woman I met years ago. Possibly your cheekbones, and maybe your ears if I squint, but I can see nothing else of her in you. Who was your father, then?"
At this, Captain Nier stepped forward and spoke up, interupting Elain before she even had a chance to open her mouth. "That's actually what we're here for, Mistress Morgan. The young human here claims to have been sired by the Great Timekeeper."
"I do not!" Elain huffed back while Mistress Morgan just raised her eyebrows into her fringe. "I told you that my father's name was Bloise Dracul. You were the one who said that he was some kind of stuffy old historian I've never met or even heard of before. I very clearly know who my father was, and I will not deny him or his blood that runs through my veins simply because you don't like it.
"You done yet, girlie?" the Tavern Mistress asked in her abrupt manner as Elain paused for a breath, giving the miffed captain a reprieve.
A flush spread across Elain's face and down to her chest as she finished her outburst. Once more she became quiet and hesitant as she addressed the dwarves. "I-I suppose so..."
"Well good, then. You've gotten your point across, you don't need to say anything more on the matter." Mistress Morgan frowned at Elain, slowly looking up and down with a deepening scowl stretching her lips thin. "You're like a waif. Where's all the meat on your bones gone, girlie? My girls will fix us all up something to eat – you in particular, young human – and we can resolve the matters of your parenthood and the wee dragon when you've finished eating."
Elain only stared after the bustling woman as she swung through the kitchen doors calling names as she went, too startled by the abrupt nature to think of a response.
It didn't take long, and Elain's mouth was still hanging open far enough to attempt catching flies as she listened to the muffled clashing of iron and terracotta flow through the walls. The sounds were only just beginning to dissipate in the stifled tavern air when the doors swung open and Mistress Morgan pushed through with four plates piled high balancing in her arms. Each clay tray held more food on it that Elain had eaten in the entire past week.
She managed to snap her jaws shut and watch with wide eyes that steadily followed as the biggest meal of the four was set down in front of the seat she had collapsed into.
The heavy aroma of roasted meat and potatoes, vegetables and mushrooms fried with herbs, and bread so fresh that it was still hot from the oven. Everything had been layered with rich butter and gravy that dripped and pooled around the food. It was all too much, too great a temptation her, and her head began to spin. Her hands started to shake violently as she reached out towards the small feast that had been set ahead of her.
Her fingers hesitated to grasp the carved, wooden handles of the utensils Mistress Morgan had placed just to the left of the edible mountain. She wanted it so, so badly, but should she take it? What would she owe to these dwarves for all of this, for safety and food, to the dwarves under these mountains? And could she afford to pay the price they would demand of her while she was responsible for the kit?
As the thoughts swirled around and started a storm in her head, she forced her hands to still in the air, hovering above the wooden handles while her suspicious mind attempted to untangle itself from the web that her mind had woven itself into.
All that she had experienced in the last two weeks had broken her in a way that she didn't know how to put herself back together again. After so much exposure to the immortal and mortal terrors, her fragile innocence no longer was able to shield her form the ill intentions that she could now see everywhere around her.
Mistress Morgan scowled again, her brows drawn in to form a sharp point. "My daughters made that food. Don't insult me by refusing to eat when you clearly need to."
Elain gulped and nodded her head, lowing her hands until her fingers were clutching at the fork and knife with bone white flesh.
The desire just to stuff everything down was so strong that she was barely able to resist the urges. Her stomach clenched painfully below her ribs, aching with a need that spread through her body until her heart was beating in harmonious tandem with the deep throbs that spread out from her core. She began to breath harshly as her belly pressed in on itself and up against her lungs, the tremble of her fingers growing until the utensils were clacking loudly against each other.
Every part of Elain – body, mind and soul – wanted to devour the feast that had been set in front of her, but the weight in her lap reminded her of the duty she had, and stayed her hands. Slowly, biting down on her lip to avoid whimpering in pain and hunger, she cut the meat piece by piece. She was able to resist her more selfish base urges, to evade the encompassing need to eat herself as she brought each sliced morsel of the hot flesh in the palms of her hands to where the kit could eat from them. Her fingers dripped with the watery red blood and thick gravy as she fed each hunk to her charge.
The three dwarves watched her conflict silently, not touching their own meals as their weary eyes flickered between her own exhausted ones and the hatchling's. she knew that they could see the raw, animalistic need that she was battling within herself in order to maintain the control to feed the young dragon. It shone like a bright madness behind her eyes.
When the kit was finally filled and more interested in licking the cooked blood that dripped down her ragged nails than the chunks that she held in the centre of them, she began to eat for herself.
Almost two thirds of her plate had been piled with thick slabs of the charred red meat, and even though it felt as if the small dragon had just eaten his own mass in a single meal, much still remained. The platter was still half covered with the remains of the cooked flesh and everything else.
She fell upon the food like a rapid animal.
She was unable to control her desperation any longer as she piled her fork high enough that half the food fell off as she lifted it to her mouth, barely chewing between each swallow. Around her, the others ate their own meals with wide, pitying eyes. It was not until they had all cleared their plates and piled them up between them did Mistress Morgan take them away into the kitchen behind the swinging doors.
When she re-entered the room, the interrogation finally began.
Truly, Elain did not want to be questioned yet again, but the suspense had been exhausting and a part of her was relieved to finally stop having to wait. As terrible as it might go after this, at least something was happening.
The captain was the first to speak, his deep voice shattering the shattering the cloying silence that had surrounded them. "You already gave me a brief overview of how you found the young dragon kit, and we will go back over that in detail later. But as for right now, it is your own origins that you will be telling us of, rather than those of the hatchling."
She nodded her head, she would not speak until she had to.
Mistress Morgan leaned in over the wooden surface to peer into her eyes. "Let's start with your parents. Tell me more than just their names, tell me their occupations, their relationship. Tell me about them." Her voice and the corners of her eyes softened as she continued. "Now, I know that questions are probably the last things you want from us right now, but the sooner everything has been answered, the sooner it can all be over."
With the food settled firmly in her stomach, and the kit purring quietly in her lap, Elain finally felt comfortable enough that she had shaken off that stubborn stutter. The words that fell from between her bloody, cracked lips were smoother and steadier than they had been before her life had turned upside down.
"My mother is Ronda Jacker. Her parents – my grandparents – were Mary and James Jacker. They were tanners and my mother is our hamlet's Weave Mistress, for everything from wool to wicker. She is twice-widowed and has been village leader since the beginning of her first marriage. Only one daughter form before my father is still alive today. I can barely remember meeting her, and she lives with her own husband and children in the city.
"Mother often told me that she met my father in the tavern while he was enchanting the gathered patrons with old legends from all over the continent. She challenged him on the story he was speaking of, on why he had changed some of the most commonly known details. They married two months later."
Elain followed forcefully and lifted one of her hands off of the kit's back to wipe at the tears. "My father's name – at least the one he always used around me and anyone else I knew – was Bloise Dracul. He was a bard and a traveller who went further in his long life than anyone else I've ever met. He was already an old man by the time he met my mother, who took a wife more for company than family. As mother was past what most women considered to be childbearing age, I was not expected to be born.
"Is that enough information for you." Elain tilted her head and looked at Mistress Morgan unblinkingly.
"Not quite yet, child. That is enough about your mother, but tell us more about your father. What stories did he tell, where did he travel? How did he learn his trade, did he have any treasures or desires?"
Elain's hand lowered from her wet cheeks to the base of her throat. Wrapped in dirty linen until only the tarnished bronze edges of her cloak pin could be seen. Slowly, her shaking fingers began to untangle the torn rag from around the pendent. The cut stone glowed slightly in the torch light as she began to reveal it, reflecting a small beam back towards the dwarves.
"I can't remember the last time one of us saw a human wearing such amber finery as this. Councilman Dondurr whispered, his breath hitching as he stared at the rare but worthless trinket.
The precious stone's clear cut lines had long ago been smoothed into an imperfect shape from years of fingers rubbing against it, like a piece of broken glass that had been in the sea for too long. It was inlayed in a sturdy, dull bronze that had long since tarnished deeper than any polish would be able to recover.
"It's just an old pin my father gave to me," she responded. "Mother said that it's not worth enough to sell as only merchants would buy and none would lower their status to amber. Father told me that it had been his for longer that I would be able to imagine, but that it belonged to his bloodline and was mine now."
Mistress Morgan's voice was sharp with repine, but the edges of her words had been softened by the awe she still clearly felt after looking at the piece of jewellery. "Girlie, this pin as you call it is over a thousand years old, carved by the elves, smithed by the dwarves and bound by the humans. The last time this was seen was around the throat of the Great Timekeeper. It shone on his flesh and it now shines on yours. Because of it we cannot doubt that you are of his blood."
"But...it's...just a trinket?"
Mistress Morgan snorted, the sound closely followed by gauffs of laughter from Councilman Dondurr and Captain Nier. "All will be explained to you in time, child. But right now you are so tired I can see your eyes closing, and we have been poor hosts. I'll take you now to a quiet room you can use, and if you so wish it, you can stay with us for as long as you require and waitress in my tavern."
"A job? I can stay?"
The Tavern Mistress snorted again. "Well, of course you can stay. You'll earn your keep, fair as everyone else. But we'll go over all of that later. At the moment you can follow me to your new room."
Elain's mouth hung open in surprise, but no sounds left it as she listened to the woman bustle on without even looking at her.
"It's out the back amongst the staff quarters, but it's private and comfortable with stone walls and enough room for a dragon to grow." The woman walked off before she had even finished addressing the confused human, spinning around and marching off through the swinging kitchen doors. She did not look back or say another word, and Elain had to rush to catch up.
She barely had enough time to raise a hand in farewell to the two males that had stayed behind, and almost managed to drop the kit when she pushed herself through the kitchen doors as he spooked at the movements they made. Together human and hatchling held tightly onto each other as they followed once more into the unknown.
Author's Note:
I know that this chapter is very long and very late, published an entire month after Chapter Twenty Six. I did not intend for it to take as long as it has, but it was very difficult to write and I wanted to make sure that you would get all the information you would need to understand the rest of the book.
That being said, I hope you enjoy what I've written!
This chapter is dedicated to shayy_2018xshayy for voting on my book. Every single vote counts, makes a difference when I write. So, thank you shayy_2018xshayy and everyone else who has given my book a chance.