Isekai’d Shoggoth - Chapter 101- A Look In The Past 1. Dwarves, Beer And Good Tidings

Erkwlff, Gruffydd and Meurig were feeling antsy. Their clansman Goronwy had sent them a note, asking for a meeting, and while the note was pretty sparse on details otherwise, it did imply he had something vitally important to the dwarfdom to discuss.

“What do ye reckon this is all about?” – Gruffydd muttered. The last of their foursome, Trahaearn, was stuck in the queue for beer, and the lack of drink was plucking at their nerves something fierce.

“Ain’t tha fogiest, uncle.” – Meurig admitted. The youngest of them all, he was barely thirty one, and sitting in the tavern like this with the adults was still novel to him.

“He ain’t here yet.” – Erkwlff worried.

“Yet? Go… Geoff ain’t s’posed ta be here till noon.” – Meurig adjusted himself quickly. He had a hard time remembering they were within the human tavern, which meant the true names were forbidden.

His uncle promptly reminded him to be cautious with a slap upside his head. “Watch yer tongue, Maurice!” – he rebuked sharply – “Erkule’s not talkin’ bout Geoff, he’s talkin’ about our beer! And Travis. But mostly beer.”

“Duly noted, uncle Griff.” – tossed Meurig petulantly – “Beer be supreme.”

“Daum right, boyo.” – his uncle agreed shamelessly – “Beer be the elixir of gods sent from tha heavens ta let us mere mortals be at fookin’ peace with this here piece’a’shit life. Now pipe down, ye hear tha clinkin of tha mugs? Travis, old pal, ol’ chum, here we are!”

Trahaearn stopped next to their table, three hefty mugs in each hand. He settled them down gingerly, distributing three of them to his compatriots and sat down with a satisfying sigh, taking a long pull from his own. Two remained in the center of the table.

“Travis, now what tha fook is this? Dinnae ferget how ta count to five?” – Gruffydd groused.

“Ain’t forgetting shit, Griff.” – Trahaearn retorted irritably – “Iffen ye be rememberin’ the fookin’ note, Geoff’s comin’ with Rory.”

“Rory? Ain’t he done settled down in that thar blacksmith up next ta the Gillespies?” – Erkwlff remarked.

“So Ah did.” – a new voice piped up. Rhodri waved to his clansmen and stepped into the tavern, holding the door open for the elderly Goronwy. Venerable elder, albeit with the help of a cane, was nonetheless quite mobile for his age, and wasted no time in ambling up to the table and taking up a seat and a mug. Rhodri followed, claiming the last mug and sipping from it immediately.

“Fookin’ heat.” – he groused – “Ahhh, beer, tha elixir of tha gods…”

“Tha’s what I fookin’ said ta this here clayclod!” – laughed Gruffydd, slapping his nephew on the back for good measure.

“Arright.” – Erkwlff proffered – “We be all here, we have tha beer… Now, what are we heah to talk about, elder?”

Goronwy jerked his head in Rhodri’s direction.

“Show’em, Rory.” – he rasped. Rhodri grinned, took another pull of the beer, then reached into his doublet and withdrew a dagger, sticking it into the middle of the table with a solid thunk. Foursome gasped with one voice.

“Ripple steel, ah’ll be daumed!” – exulted Gruffydd, still mindful enough to keep his voice low in spite of excitement – “Great find, Rory. Shit, ye dinnae have ta sell yer smithy fer it, ah hope?”

Rhodri smirked. It was an “I know something you do not” kind of smirk. The kind that immediately set all four dwarves present on edge. Their clansman had something better than this priceless heirloom? That oughta be good, indeed. The faces in front of him elongated as he pulled out four more daggers in simple leather sheaths and laid one in front of each dwarf at the table except for the elder. Goronwy for his part drew his own dagger and stuck it in the table next to Rhodri’s, making the rest of the dwarves gasp again. TWO daggers from ripple steel? Or maybe?…

Meurig was the fastest of them, grabbing the dagger off the table and yanking it out of the sheath, only to stop and whistle appreciatively.

“Six. Fookin’. Ripple. Steel. Daggers!?” – Trahaearn drawled incredulously – “Rory, yer lucky dog, ye.”

Rhodri polished his nails on the doublet collar nonchalantly. “Thank ye, thank ye.” – he proffered – “Forged them meself just the last week, ah did.”

Dead. Silence. And four pairs of perfectly round eyes staring at him.

Goronwy set his mug down with a clunk, breaking the spell. “He did, lads.” – he proffered softly – “He really did.”

Four throats erupted in a triumphant roar as the dwarves raised their mugs as one, slammed them together and guzzled down their beers in one go.

“Way ta go, Rory!” “Fookin’ great!” “Tha’s our Rory!” “Oh, yeah!”

Rhodri waited for his clansmen to settle down a little, then proffered in quiet voice. “Now, lads, ah’d be glad ta claim this one, but tha truth is? S’aint me who figured tha secret out.” – he continued quietly – “And b’fore ye make more ruckus, s’aint a dwarf who did.”

Everyone quietened down, listening intently.

“Now, heah’s tha thing.” – Rhodri began, – “Mah’s smithy right next ta Gillespie estate, as ye well know. Ah’ve been their blacksmith fer a while, and I haveta say, ah ain’t got nuthin ta complain ’bout graf Gillespie. So, theah I was, one mornin’, just tending ta me forge, and ah’ve got me a visitor. Turned out ta be maiden Gillespie. Sait summat ’bout gettin’ ta know artizans o’the land. Asked me fer public name. Nice and good as ye please, so ah’d intraduced meself. She gives me a buncha paper and asks me ta forge that there thing…”

He paused, reached into his doublet one more time and withdrew yet another object made out of ripple steel.

“This be a neat wee handmill, ye lot.” – he explained, setting it down next to his dagger – “So ah told her that such a fine me-ka-nism? Ain’t no good makin’ it from nuthin’ but steel. And that goshdarned apprentice o’mine gone and spoilt tha smelting just tha other day. Turned me a batch of pig iron.”

Everyone around clicked their tongues, silently agreeing that an apprentice that made such a basic mistake was indeed very much goshdarned.

“So… she tells me ta fetch summa that pig iron.” – Rhodri continued his tale – “Looks at it. And tells me ta put it with tha last ingot o’steel that ah had into tha furnace, heat it all right up good and propar and beat the fookin’ bells outa it with mah hammer. Fold it on itself an’ beat it some more. Fold and beat, fold and beat ’till the lines on it are laike hair thin. And would ya know what ah got in tha end?”

All of them looked at the daggers and mill in the center of the table.

“So ah went to that thar estate over yonder to ask iffen maybe graf Gillespie happens ta have some of our old writin’ or summat.” – he concluded – “He ain’t got nuthin, tho. Turns out maiden Gillespie gone and done figured tha whole thing from tha old story about Throm. Showed me tha story bit and everythin’. It does say about foldin’ and beatin’, s’just we ain’t never paid much heed to tha old tales, yanno?”

Goronwy coughed. “Keep goin, Rory. This is what we’re heah fer.” – he nudged – “Tell them ’bout graf’s offer.”

Rhodri nodded. “Gettin’ ta it, elder.” – he agreed – “So… once graf Gillespie hears ah know how ta make ripple steel again… Maiden makes us an offer. We come ta the Gillespie lands up north an’ build the propar forge hall, an’ he pledges ta keep us fed and clothed so that we can get some serious forgin’ an’ minin’ an’ chiselin’ on.”

“Wait, wait, hol’up.” – Erkwlff interrupted him suddenly – “We as in we six? Or we as in we clansmen?”

“We as in we dwarves, lad.” – Goronwy rasped – “Graf Gillespie offers food, clothes an’ spirits ta every dwarf ta come to his lands, so long as we build and work that forge hall. Bettah even, he done pledged ta give us all tha stone an’ time we need ta build ourselves a propah settlement first. We haveta cut the stone on our own, though. Oh, and Gillespies did say women and children are welcome too. They offer a downright townsteadin’ of our own in their lands.”

Rhodri added in the resulting lull – “Maiden Gillespie be touched by gods, tha word is. Whatever she puts her eye on turns ta gold, like. Now, ah be thinkin’, what if she puts her eye on us the dwarves for a while? I figure we coulda trust Gillespies. Graf ain’t never done me wrong, and he’s known fer knowing the denier’s worth.”

“So… ye wanna tha four of us ta spread word to the clansmen? Ta let them know there be a place for them an’ their families up north? That tha clansmen can forge tha ripple steel again? That there be a forge hall built, if only we gather tha lot?” – Trahaearn mused – “Damn it all, ah’m in.”

“So am I.” – Meurig stated confidently – “Ain’t no use stoppin’ me, uncle.”

“Stoppin’ ye, lad?” – Gruffydd retorted incredulously – “Ah’d wollop yer lazy arse outta the doors first thang in the mornin’ if yer not gone by tha sunrise. Cause mark my words, I’m gonna be.”

“It be agreed on, then.” – Erkwlff summed up, pushing away from the table and standing up – “Let us be off, brothers. New dawn comes fer us dwarves.”

“Hear, hear!” – agreed everyone else, standing up as well. All of them had urgent things to attend to. Goronwy and Rhodri would remain and prepare for the first settlers. As for Erkwlff, Gruffydd, Meurig and Trahaearn? All four of them were already on the road in their thoughts.