Ultimate Level 1

A commotion from the door’s entrance to the ale house ended as a dwarf barged through, pushing Ruggula out of the way as she tried to hold back the man.

Max was already on his feet, having left the booth as his Sonar picked up the name being shouted over and over.

“FOWL! FOWL HAMMERFALL!”

When the brown-haired dwarf came inside, he looked almost like a copy of their dwarven warrior, except with arms that were a few inches larger and covered in small burn marks. A patch of his beard was singed, yet those brown eyes scanned the room, shouting the name once more.

“Fowl Hammerfall!”

The room began to fall into silence, and Max saw his friend stand, eyes locked on the pair as the guard wrestled with no luck against the dwarf.

Jataic waved Ruggula away as Fowl moved from the bar and started walking toward the dwarf, who was now free from the woman who had been trying to hold him back.

“Heldon Hammerfall, what in the gods are you doing?!”

A frown appeared as the dwarf stormed across the room, weaving between the few benches and tables. He moved with a purpose, and those who were in his way, moved quickly out of it.

“I’m on it,” he replied, moving to stay close, coming from behind the dwarf.

“You dare return?! What is this nonsense I hear spreading around town of you being some tower climber and beating the 50th floor?!”

His words echoed across the room, and Fowl stood like a rock, unmoving from the position he had taken at the end of the table where Batrire and her mother had risen from.

“It’s not a lie.”

“That’s a pot full of ogre shite, and you know it!”

Max saw Fowl shake his head at him slightly, causing the dwarf he was following to turn for a moment and glance at him.

“Boy, don’t mess with me, or I’ll thump you so hard you’ll wish there was a dwarf here who had just given birth so she could nurse you back to the living.”

Unable to help it, Max started to laugh. His eyes almost closed, and he held his chest.

“You think that’s funny?”

He sensed the dwarf Fowl was related to stop and now start moving toward him.

“I think you’re hilarious,” Max replied. “Perhaps the king is looking for a fool, and you might win the award this year.”

A gasp came from most in the room as the nearby dwarves started to back up.

Heldon reached him, a thick finger put against his shirt.

A scowl appeared as he pressed against Max, and nothing happened.

“I’m sorry, did your strength fail you?” he teased. “Fowl spoke about how great his family was at crafting and how strong they are. Perhaps you need to find a dwarf to nurse you and help you gain a little bit more strength and manners.”

The dwarf turned, his fist already formed and started to swing until Fowl’s hand caught his forearm and stopped him.

“Don’t. Trust me, brother. He’ll kill you with just a simple flick of his finger if he wants.”

“Let go of me, you traitor!”

Tugging his arm, Heldon tried to free himself from his brother’s grasp, but no matter how much he thrashed, even with all the muscles in his arm, Fowl didn’t move an inch.

“I’m going to warn you,” their warrior growled, pulling the dwarf close until his other hand grabbed him by the beard and yanked his face next to him. “Touch my friends, and I’ll forget you’re family, just like you forgot I’m family.”

“Let go of me!”

The shout was higher pitched, and the gruffness of it was gone as the smith realized he was unable to free himself. Max felt a twinge of sadness at the look on his friend’s face.

“You got this?”

“I do. Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my oldest brother and I need to have a conversation.”

Fowl began to move, dragging his brother by the arm and the beard until they got to the bench opposite Batrire and her mother.

“Sit, or I swear to Ockrim I’ll hold you down and shave every lick of hair off your head and face.”

“Who do you think you are?!”

“He’s an adventurer and someone able to kick your arse any day of the week,” Batrire said, interrupting the dwarf who was about to shout again. “Sit down, or I’ll let him beat you multiple times and heal you between them.”

A glare came from Heldon as his eyes fell upon Batrire.

“Bah, you’re the huss—”

A slap echoed across the room, and Max winced as he saw the smith stagger for a moment, until Fowl yanked him by the beard back to where he was holding him.

His free hand held a shaving blade, pressed against the dwarf’s beard, and a section was gone in a second.

“Speak like that again,” Fowl snarled in his brother’s face, “and your beard won’t be the only thing I cut off.”

A sigh came from Batrire, and a green glow surrounded Heldon, causing his legs to stiffen.

“You… you hit me? And cut my beard!”

“I did. Now sit, or I’ll do it again.”

Having stored the blade, Fowl shoved his brother down on the bench, still holding on to his brother’s brown beard.

“Jataic, get me some milk for this fool. Perhaps later he can grow up enough to drink like a real dwarf.”

Muted chuckles came from around the room, and the owner of the place whistled.

“Time to go. Everyone out unless you wish to not get a drop of my ale for the next month.”

A brief moment of the dwarves looking at each other ended as they all quickly filed toward the front door, soon leaving the once jam-packed room empty except for the eight of them.

Clearing his throat, Fowl nodded at the large dwarf and let go of his brother’s beard.

“Now, why have you come?”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Blinking a few times, Heldon stared up at him, using a hand as he massaged his chin and jaw.

“We… I heard you had returned. People were saying you threw Jataic and were a tower climber. But we both know that’s a load of—”

“It’s true,” Fowl said, equipping his entire outfit in a second. “We’ve passed the 50th floor and have only taken a break to come and announce our wedding.”

Coughing and sputtering, Heldon glanced across the table where Batrire had retaken her seat.

“Im… impossible… it’s been a year! No dwarf, human, or elf can level that fast!”

Sighing, Fowl rubbed his eyes and sat on the same bench a few feet from his brother.

“Do you listen to news, rumors, or stories at all?”

A scoff came, and then the smith frowned and nodded.

“Only a fool wouldn’t listen to the news.”

“And yet one sits there,” Norhalin said. “Seems it runs through the veins of a lot of dwarves today.”

Jataic coughed as he sat down a tiny cup filled with milk.

“Do you know the name Seth Pendal?”

Narrowing his eyes at the cup and then at his brother, Heldon nodded.

“We’ve heard the stories…. The news… about a—”

He stopped himself, turning till he could see Max still standing there, arms crossed, a slightly evil grin on his face.

Color began to disappear from the smith’s face as he swallowed, and an unsteady hand reached out, grabbing the cup near him and taking a drink.

Heldon coughed and spat it out, earning a chuckle from Batrire’s father.

“Mahu… he… Seth… that’s him?!’

The babbling Heldon was doing was comical as Fowl nodded slowly.

“Yes… the man you were about to punch is the very one who cleared four floors of the tower in hours. He is the same man I have partied with for almost a year. We are past the 50th floor, and if there wasn’t the slightest hope in my heart that Mom and Dad might take me back, I would allow him to do to you what you deserve.”

“He’d be flagged!”

Fowl began to howl with laughter.

“You think he cares about that? Who here could stop him? Who would be stupid enough to try and fight him?!”

Max couldn’t help but chuckle as his friend spoke highly of him, moving till he was able to sit down on the bench closest to the smith.

“Oh, I wouldn’t have killed him,” he replied. “I might have shaved him from head to toe if you said it was okay. Then perhaps he wouldn’t have hairy ones anymore.”

Red coloring filled his cheeks, and Heldon started to sputter again.

“But… that means you’re…”

The dwarf never finished his words, the cup of milk falling to the floor as he passed out.

Max moved quickly, helping Fowl to catch his brother before he slid off the bench and onto the floor.

“Is he okay?”

Sighing, their warrior nodded and gently lowered his brother to the ground.

“I think he just realized how close to death or being completely bald like you all over he was. For some, that might do just this.”

Laughing, Max nodded, pulling a flask of water out of storage.

“You want to do this or me?”

Fowl grinned and shook his head.

“I’ll do it… he might pass out if you do what I know you’re thinking of.”

***

Sputtering, Heldon sat up and saw his brother adjusting his pants.

“Is this—”

“Water, now get off the ground and act like the dwarf Mom and Dad most likely left in charge of the forge… unless of course, they left Thanwuna as the boss.”

A scowl appeared as he wiped his wet beard and climbed up off the ground.

“I’m in charge,” he muttered. “To suggest otherwise—”

“Means you act like a fool all the time,” Fowl stated, holding a tankard out to him. “Now drink, and then we can talk. Don’t mistake my tone as one who doesn’t remember how you treated me when I left.”

Shifting on the bench, Heldon quickly took a long drink and set the tankard down on the table.

No one said a word as he stared at Fowl, his jaw moving and yet no words coming out.

“I did mistreat you. Mom and Dad—”

“Didn’t force you to behave like that.”

Wincing, he bobbed his head once.

“They did not… I chose to act like that. I… am sorry.”

Clearing his throat, Fowl grabbed his drink and found it empty.

Batrire slid hers over to him, and he finished it off, wiping the foam on his beard away with the back of his hand.

“You’re fine. How are Thanwuna and Motak?”

“Busy… we’ve all been busy since Mom and Dad took Grondir and went to the capital. Everyone in town wants us to make something even if they don’t need it. Would you believe how many dwarves come by and try to buy a weapon because of the stamp it bears but don’t want to pay the price for such a thing?”

Chuckling, Fowl nodded.

“I guess the adventurers here are still active?”

“Things have been busy in the dungeons. Which is good for business,” Heldon stated. “Of course, most don’t consider doing what… what you have done. How? How can you be that far along?”

Their warrior glanced at Batrire and then at Max, now noticing that Tanila and Cordellia had moved closer and joined them.

“I’m in an amazing group. We could lie and say it’s not been hard, but there have been a few times where most of us have almost died at least once.”

“And the tower? Is it like they say it is?”

“Dangerous? Exciting? Full of treasure?”

“Yes!”

Grinning, Fowl nodded.

“All it takes is leaving the safety of a forge and going out and learning to become a warrior. Surely you could be willing to do that.”

A scoff came, and the dwarf rubbed a hand against one of his oversized arms.

“No… I’ve never been that brave. You know that. Whatever Mom and Dad tell me to do… I do it.”

“Some of us wanted more… or at least had the balls to try for it.”

Sighing, Heldon picked up his tankard and stared into it.

“I’m sorry again, brother… for… for all of the things I said and did.”

Max watched as Fowl stood up and moved to where his brother was and gave him a gentle slap on the arm.

“Don’t worry, I’m over it. Part of what made me who I am is how I was treated. Now, if you think you can manage it, can I go to the forge and see my brother and sister?”

Draining the last of the dregs of his tankard, Heldon set it on the table and stood.

“I owe you that… Mom and Dad be damned. Ready to come home?”

A few tears formed in Fowl’s eyes.

“That’s all I ever wanted.”

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