Ultimate Level 1

Max had been near a few dwarf ale and beer houses in Peltagow, but he had never actually stepped foot in one. The noise inside made him wonder just how many armies must be inside.

“It’s so loud,” he moaned at first, his Sonar skill taking the brunt of dozens of conversations all being had at the same time, each person almost yelling to be heard over the din. “How many are in there?”

“Maybe a hundred,” Batrire shouted, seeing him wince for a moment. “It’s a slow day! Sometimes there would be benches and tables out here. Plus, there aren’t any dwarves playing with axes, so Mom must not want to deal with the rowdy ones.”

He glanced at Tanila, who was smiling. Her eyes darted everywhere, watching the dwarves who staggered by, enduring the cacophony of noise that came from every bearded being present.

A loud roar suddenly erupted inside, and a dwarf who reminded Max of Buwingrid on the other planet appeared at the doorway. He was easily over six feet tall and almost as round as two dwarves. His brown beard hung down over his rotund belly, and a leather apron with lots of stains had small metal hooks with clasps on it. A few had cups clipped to them, making clanging noises of metal on metal as he swayed from side to side, a normal-sized dwarf caught in his meaty grip.

“I said, NO MORE!”

With a simple twist of his body, the dwarf he had once been holding went airborne. Max was about to move to try to catch the flying dwarf, only to realize that it was a perfect toss, and after the black-haired dwarf reached the highest point of his flight, he came crashing down into a pen filled with hay.

Cheers came along with laughter and applause of the dwarves outside, as the entertainment landed in the middle of the padded area.

Batrire had froze, a dozen yards from the doorway, and Max could sense her trembling slightly.

The loud bellow was cut off, and the abnormally large dwarf froze, his mouth open and eyes locked on their healer. A few tears started to form in each eye, and with a speed Max hadn’t imagined possible, the one he knew had to be Batrire’s father, who was crossing the ground between them, arms open.

“My little B!”

“Daddy!”

No one else spoke. The cheers and applause cut off as the two collided. The larger dwarf picked up his daughter and swung her through the air, pressing her against his chest.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Max heard him whisper. “Your mother and I… we…”

His words stopped, as did his spin. His eyes fell upon Fowl and the rest of the party, all watching with smiles at the affection being shown to their healer.

“Fowl Hammerfall.”

Gone was the excitement and joy. Replaced instead was a gruff tone as the larger man set his daughter down.

“Jataic Lightbrew. I brought her home safely as I promised,” their dwarven warrior replied, his tone steady, yet with every ounce of armor except his helmet on.

“That you did… still… I feel I owe you a beating.”

“Dad, please—”

A hand came up from her father, and he shook his head. After taking a few steps and glaring so hard at Fowl, Max swore that a hairy caterpillar had replaced the dwarf’s bushy eyebrows.

“You stole her away and didn’t give us time to give her a proper send-off. Tell me, boy, have you come home, realizing you made a mistake?”

“No…” Fowl replied, pausing momentarily as he stepped closer, his chest plate pressed against the larger dwarf’s stomach. “I’ve come to tell you we’re getting married.”

A few coughs and gasps came as more dwarves exited the ale house. A dwarf who looked exactly like Batrire if she was older, taller, and a little heavier burst forth right as Fowl said those words.

“Married?! My daughter is getting married?!”

“Not now, Norhalin!” snapped Jataic. “This pup doesn’t have the balls to—”

A smile appeared on Max’s face as Fowl grabbed Batrire’s father’s waist. In a moment, the dwarf, who he was certain would get everyone’s bet for winning a fight between these two, was off the ground, spinning like a top as Fowl reacted.

“I… said… we’re…. getting… married!”

As the last word came out, Fowl sent the oversized dwarf flying, his rotund shape looking like a boulder slung from a catapult.

It appears your dwarf friend has learned how to throw things after all that time in the dungeons and tower.

Max couldn’t help but laugh, realizing Bob was right, seeing that the half-drunk dwarf staggering out of the pile of hay barely avoided becoming a dwarven pancake as Batrire’s father crashed into the padded area.

“Fowl!” Batrire shouted, as she started to move toward her father and then stopped.

She paused and shook her head, grinning. Then she retraced her steps and moved to stand next to the dwarf she had shouted at a second ago. Once there, she took his hand, tapping on his plate glove until it vanished, and intertwined her fingers with his.

Like a bull, Jataic emerged from the pile, hay going everywhere, stuck in his beard and brown hair.

He charged across the stone floor, with a speed that again surprised Max.

Fowl moved forward, standing before Batrire, letting go of her hand and clasping his behind his back.

Everything felt slow, and while he wanted to intervene, Max wondered what was going on in the mind of her dad.

Two steps before he bull-rushed Fowl, the large dwarf swung, his fist coming like an arrow and connected with Fowl’s chin.

A cracking sound came next, followed by a howl of pain.

Groans and expressions of pain and horror appeared on every face as they looked at the result of the punch.

Bones stuck out from the misshapen hand.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Mah hand! He broke my hand!”

Cordellia snorted, and Max could sense that Tanila was covering her own mouth, trying not to smile.

“Is it my turn to punch you?” Fowl asked, taking a step to where the larger dwarf had retreated, holding his misshapen hand in one arm. “Perhaps you should have asked how our adventuring has gone.”

The tone his friend spoke in was surprising. Gone was the dwarf he had adventured with this past year. The playful jokes and the tone of always having a dirty innuendo on his lips weren’t present. Instead, he was a dwarf defending something he believed in.

“Perhaps you should have asked what rank we are. Or even better you should have found out just what level I am.”

All his armor vanished, revealing a hairy-chested dwarf in leather boots and pants.

“You could have at least asked to see my chest and challenged me to rip the hair from it for her hand, but no, you acted like a fool.”

“Fowl…” Batrire said before being cut off.

“Let him talk.” It was the first time Max had heard Batrire’s mother speak, and her tone left no doubt about how she felt. “He started this. Let these two finish it.”

Grunting once, Batrire nodded.

Jataic glanced at his wife, seeing the way she shook her head and the frown she wore, which was not hidden by her braided beard.

“Go ahead, rip off some of my hair if you think you’re dwarf enough,” Fowl said, moving till he was just a few feet from Batrire’s father. “Just remember, I get a turn afterward.”

Still wincing at the pain of what he was experiencing, Jataic shook his head.

“What… what level are you?”

“Do you want to know my actual level or the floor of the tower we’ve passed?”

Every eye in the place went wide, and a few cups of ale bounced off the stone outside, their owners apparently shocked by a question like that.

“The tower? Impossible! You just stole her a year ago!”

“I’m past the 50th level in the tower,” Fowl said, moving closer, holding his hand out and making a fist. “I believe I’m entitled to a punch. Though under the rules of our kingdom, if you die from it, know that’s not my fault.”

Jataic’s eyes moved back and forth, one moment on the small fist that Fowl had made, the next at Batrire, who was glaring at him and then at his wife.

“He’s telling the truth, you idiot,” their healer said. “We’ve passed the 50th floor in the tower.”

Everywhere, dwarves began to whisper, and Max watched as they all shook their heads in disbelief. A pair, he sensed, were running out the gate, shouting to everyone.

“Batrire Lightbrew and Fowl Hammerfall have beaten the 50th floor in the tower!”

Grunting, their dwarven warrior cracked his neck and rotated his shoulder.

“So, Jataic Lightbrew… as I said, I’ve come to tell you I’m marrying your daughter. I would have preferred to do this differently, but I’ll have you know right now.”

He reached up, grabbed the leather apron, and overpowered the larger dwarf, pulling him down to where he stood.

“Do that again, and I’ll rip every hair from your chest, do you understand?”

A snort came from Jataic, just inches away from Fowl’s face.

“You’ve grown a pair, it seems. A pair larger than mine.”

Her father sighed and held his injured hand out to his daughter.

“B, would you heal this, please? After that, I can hug my soon-to-be son-in-law.”

Cheers came as Batrire moved to where her father was, casting a heal on him, the bones snapping into place.

Letting go of the leather apron, Fowl stood there, watching the older dwarf adjust himself.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Forgive me again. Come give me a hug.”

Jataic spread his arms and stood there, glancing at Fowl and Batrire.

“Stop showing off already and give him a hug.”

Winking, Fowl leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. Then, he rushed to where her father stood, embracing him and causing everyone to laugh when he picked him up and spun him around.

“Dwarves are weird,” Cordellia muttered to Max and Tanila. “I mean… who goes around tossing their soon-to-be father-in-law?”

***

Max sat in the stone booth, his senses no longer overwhelmed even as the noise inside echoed off the thick, stone-cut walls. Stone tables and benches were everywhere in the middle of the room, and two walls were lined with booths like the one he, Tanila, and Cordellia sat in.

A pair of dwarves played music on a drum and lute, and while some danced, most listened to Fowl and Batrire as they told stories, free ale being guzzled by the tankard.

Everywhere, dwarves were laughing and enjoying something Max knew none had expected.

“He’s in his element… like Fowl is a totally different dwarf,” Cordellia shouted as she leaned over the table. “Did his balls drop or something? I mean… just look at him!”

Tanila chuckled and sipped her drink, no longer wincing at the taste.

“A long time ago, when I first met the two of them, he was a little more like this. I think… partying with Max made him feel less of a dwarf. But here, in his own land, he knows where he stands, and he knows what he wants. He shared a bit with me a long time ago about how the split with his family went, and I think that reunion might be even worse than this one was.”

“Worse? How does something get worse than watching a troll of a dwarf be sent flying through the air and their hand broken?”

A slight frown appeared on their mage’s lips.

“I’m not certain, but I know his parents basically disowned him in some ways,” Tanila replied. “Part of me can understand how he feels. Not having the approval of one’s parents. Not filling the role or expected plan for your life. This culture is far worse than ours. You know that.”

Slowly, Cordellia nodded and then took another drink from her tankard, emptying the thing and setting it down on the table with a clang.

“That is true. We do not care what one does as long as it honored… you know who.”

Both of the women turned and looked at Max, who was staring across the room at his friend.

“Max?”

Max shrugged without taking his eyes off the dwarven warrior standing on the table, acting out a battle he believed he knew, somehow putting on a show that seemed so out of place for his friend.

“My parents didn’t care about what I became. As long as I was happy, they were fine with me being a Baker. Now… I think they are content knowing I’m safe and alive. I can tell my mom still has some problems and there is some pain she keeps hidden, but the smile she wears is a real one now. You both have seen how much weight she started to put on now that she is finally eating again. For that, I’m grateful to each of you here for helping me grow strong enough to return home and protect my family.”

Tanila squeezed his arm and smiled.

“Helped him grow strong enough,” she snorted. “Like you needed any help to do that.”

“Without you, my soul might have been lost, and trust me, I’d rather be the weakest one in the world than a man without a soul.”

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