TGC 10 In which we find lodgings with a new friend

Mother wouldn’t answer me, when I asked who this mysterious Manquer was. She didn’t even acknowledge that I’d spoken, she just dragged me behind her, moving nimbly across the planks of boardwalks that gently rose and fell with the water they floated upon. She approached an inn and pulled me in after her.

It was as quiet as the grave in there. Two old dwarves sat in armchairs that were bursting at the seams, pushed against yellowing walls, their faces illuminated only by a solitary candle resting on the barrel between them.

Quickly forgiving mother for ignoring me, I sidled closer to her – keen to feel the protection of her arms around me. As we waited to be seen, I ripped my eyes away from the two dwarves – smoking their pipes – to look around the dark and dingy room, there was a mismatch of furniture. No two pieces were alike, there was a wooden chair here, a stone stool there. Barrels doubled up as makeshift tables; a table doubled up as a makeshift bench. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I saw that one wall was covered entirely by a dirty crimson curtain hanging from the ceiling.

I watched as another dwarf stepped out from behind the curtain. The first thing I noticed about him – as with all dwarves – was his beard. Compared to the dwarf we had just encountered outside, it was a positively miniscule thing, barely reaching halfway down his belly. His hair was shorter than was normal for a dwarf as well – much shorter and tightly pulled back, so that his face seemed to stretch up over his skull. The strangest thing about him though were the brass glasses he wore. I’m not sure they were glasses truth be told, they were strange, two perfect black circles that presumably sat over his eyes and set into a strange brass frame that formed a seal around his eyes held in place by a thick leather strap.

Carrying a lantern, he slowly hobbled towards us, nodding politely at each of us in turn when he reached us.

“Goblins,” he grunted by way of a greeting. There was a gruffness to his voice although there was something else present too - a kindness perhaps.

“We are,” Mother gulped, “We’ve come from Ruraux. We’ve been travelling for well over a week. Please, we just need somewhere to sleep. We’ll sleep here on the floor if needs be. Just please give us some shelter!” I looked up surprised. Mother sounded fraught, as though a place to sleep were a matter of life and death.

The dwarf raised his hand and I felt my mother grow tense. “Calm yourself Missus Goblin,” he said. “I’m sure we have room for two more.” He turned then and raised his voice to call to someone presumably on the other side of the curtain. “Flussmann, bring through sherry and some hot milk.” He turned then to the two dwarves sat in the armchairs on the other side of the dark room. “Sorry chaps, I think it’s time for you to be leaving.”

Startled, the two dwarves looked disgruntledly up at the dwarf, but thought better of arguing with him and shuffled out, grumbling softly as they passed Mother and me.

“Now then,” the dwarf with the strange glasses spoke again. “Why don’t we all take a seat and have a little drink. You two look like you need it.” As we settled ourselves into the soggy armchairs another dwarf shuffled into the room from behind the curtain. This dwarf was young, perhaps only a year or two older than I was, and not yet fully-grown. His beard barely reached his shoulders and he was – I guessed – roughly three-quarters the height of the dwarf with the strange glasses.

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