Chapter 18 Ren #3
Thorn nodded sagely. “Ah, yeah. I figured you might not have actually heard me last night. Poor timing on my part really, trying to talk to you when you were otherwise occupied. But goblin tradition dictates that all engagements be celebrated at the earliest opportunity – in other words, this morning. Normally, we’d have brought gifts, but once we got Ren’s message, we figured we’d better swap them out for something more appropriate in the circumstances.
” He grinned as he hefted a large wooden club – a repurposed tree branch, most likely – over one shoulder to illustrate.
Agvaldir took what seemed to be an instinctive step back, his expression flattening into a stone-like mask. He said, “I could incinerate you with just a flick of my wrist.”
“Maybe,” Thorn said with an easy, unaffected shrug.
“But by my count, there are – oh, several dozen of us, and only four of you. Also, I don’t think your buddies will much like it if you start slinging fireballs in a cramped space like this.
Chances are you’ll blast them too. There’s a reason dwarves don’t use spellpowder in populated tunnels – or, at least, not tunnels populated by them.
I’m sure your friend over there will tell you as much. ”
Right on cue, the dwarf’s mustache twitched in recognition.
However, instead of cautioning his employer like Thorn had intended, he stepped forward, dark eyes narrowing beneath the lip of his iron helm.
Of course, a dwarf wouldn’t allow himself to be bested by a bunch of goblins. They were too proud for that.
But pride didn’t mean he’d fight fair. Dwarves never did.
Fire and toxic gas were their favorite tools when it came to clearing out goblin caves – always things they could set and walk away from, as if that made their hands any cleaner.
Efficiency, the dwarves called it. Drill down where the earth is softest. And, in this case, that meant seizing Mrs. Millwood with one gauntleted hand and yanking her towards him to serve as a makeshift shield.
“Don’t you think you’re overlooking something?” the dwarf drawled over Mrs. Millwood’s half-strangled whimpers. “I know halflings are awfully small, but surely you care about their—”
Well-being, Ren imagined he meant to say. However, Thorn swung out with his club quicker than his size would’ve suggested, and promptly silenced the dwarf with a hard smack to the head.
Dazed, the dwarf staggered back, his hold on both Mrs. Millwood and his hammer unraveling in tandem.
While the hammer dropped to the floor with a heavy thunk, Mrs. Millwood fled into the safety of the crowd, urged onwards by the gentle press of Thorn’s palm.
She stood behind him, her hands knotting in the beige knit of her shawl, desperately seeking comfort.
“Face it,” Thorn said, once again addressing Agvaldir, who seemed to have grown a touch paler.
“You’re outnumbered, outmatched. The pretty little lady”– he nodded towards Pansy – “gave you the opportunity to leave with a generous portion of your dignity intact. I suggest you take it. Unless you want to go the same way as your dwarf friend here. In which case, I am most happy to oblige.”
“You’re really going to fight alongside a bunch of goblins?” Agvaldir demanded, still scrabbling for some way to turn this around. Unfortunately for him, he’d reached the point where he was now scraping across the bottom of a barrel.
“It-it is rather unorthodox…” Mrs. Millwood said, the words jolting over her tremulous breathing. “But, I suppose, so is being accosted by armed men…”
Evidently, every halfling present could agree on that much, given the way they nodded and murmured among themselves.
“What about fighting alongside new friends?” Thorn ventured, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a lopsided grin.
“Y-yes.” Mrs. Millwood nodded, a pink tinge rising to her cheeks. “I think we could all do that.”
Land almighty. Had Thorn managed to charm Mrs. Millwood? Him – of all people? And unintentionally to boot! Ren might’ve laughed if the pain hadn’t seized any and all amusement in a vicelike grip, smothering it before it could fully form.
Finally realizing that this confrontation had run its course, Agvaldir straightened up as best he could and barked out a curt, “We’re leaving!
” over his shoulder. He said nothing more as he headed back up the tunnel, pushing past goblins and halflings alike in a flurry of silken robes – though the parting glare he shot Pansy could’ve incinerated her just as readily as a fireball conjured from his fingertips.
Then he was gone, vanishing from sight along with his wretched henchmen, including the still-stumbling dwarf.
And Ren, certain in the knowledge that Pansy was safe, let go of the tension pulling their body taut and allowed themself to drift.
Down and down into the darkness lapping at the edges of their vision, where their side ceased to hurt, until, finally, there was nothing.