“It’s cramped in here, Cleathelm,” said the little half-breed goblin to the raw boned dwarf chief apprentice as they sat knees to chest in a small alcove that overlooked a darkened room below. The alcove, although old and high up in the wall was as clean as a newly scrubbed floor and its marble surface reflected light from the sharp blade in the hand of the goblin creature. Above them an iron bound painting depicted a snarling dwarf warrior his axe raised high over his head. The work was of fine quality, and the frame, filigreed with gold wire and gemstones spaced at regular intervals, stood out like little stars in the night.
“Shut up, Blaggard,” replied the big dwarf and gave the other fellow a quick elbow in the ribs to drive home the point. “They’ll be along shortly and we’ll catch them in the act. Then you get to interrogate them. You’ll like that, it’s your specialty.”
The little fellow twisted his dagger so that it reflected light around the chamber below them and smiled to show numerous sharp teeth that spoke of a darkling heritage, “I like to ask questions.”
“I know you do, that’s why you’re along, my father will be well pleased when we catch Delius trying to steal the staff,” said Cleathelm and spun a short throwing axe around and around in his hand. It looked recently sharpened witha knob at the end of the handle emblazoned by a flaming fist.
The little goblin took in his breath with a sharp gasp, clenched his small dagger so hard his knuckles turned white, and turned to face the bigger dwarf with wide eyes and an open mouth, “You didn’t say it was Dol. He’s a tough one.”
“So what, and keep your voice down, they’ll be along any minute. This is the last day the hammer is out in the open like this and they’ll want to steal it. Hopefully they’ll tell on that little rotter Uldex and his uncle Borrombus as well, and that’ll be the end of any of their plans. We are the Firefists, the rightful rulers of Craggen Steep for the last five thousand years.”
The goblin sheathed the dagger at his side and intertwined his fingers from both hands as his eyes shifted back and forth between the chamber below and the dwarf at his side, “I thought the Drawhammers were the first family in Craggen Steep,” said the darkling blooded creature as it jabbed its boot into the hard marble with no effect.
“What do you know about the politics of Craggen Steep you, half-breed imbecile,” said the young chief apprentice as he turned to look back out onto the chamber below them. It was the room of the First Edos and not many had the key to the place. The view from this high was quite different from below where the weapons of four hundred First Edoses hung on the walls. Cleathelm leaned forward and peered around the edge of the alcove to his right and stared, eye to eye, with a delicate short sword that glowed blue in the dim light of the darkened room. He remembered studying every weapon in the room at one point early in his apprenticeship but couldn’t for the life of him remember the story behind that sword. It was something about a young elf prince but he couldn’t remember more and spat a long blob of phlegm out onto the floor where it landed with a wet splat. “I’ll make the old bastard pay for making me scrub the floors. I’m a Firefist, not some goblin scullery maid.”
“You didn’t say it would be Dol,” said the half-breed goblin after a short while as he carefully studied the burly dwarf at his side. Cleathelm was powerful and good with the axe according to everyone but obviously not too bright. Perhaps he could get more out of this if he played his dice right. “If it’s Dol, I want more money for the job.”
“A bargain is a bargain,” said Cleathelm and jabbed the half-breed with his elbow again.
“Not if it’s made under false pretenses; you said two apprentices and the yellow-haired halfling girl,” said Blaggard, a little spittle of drool appearing at his lips.
“And it is two apprentices and a halfling girl,” Cleathelm. “No negotiations. The deal is done.”
“It’s just the four of us,” said Blaggard with a glance towards another pair of alcove across the room. “And it’ll be Dol we have to subdue. You can say no negotiations until your face turns blue but I’ll climb down and leave right now if you don’t double the payment,” he continued with a sidelong glance at the big dwarf. He even made a motion to move forward towards the ledge of alcove.
“You make too much of him. He’s got a tough hide and he knows how to use a weapon, I’ll give you that but there are four of us. Besides, he’ll probably have the little halfling girl with him. You’d like interrogating her, wouldn’t you?”
“But,” repeated Blaggard with another glance up at his companion and his eyes narrowed into a calculating squint, “it’s Dol. He’ll break you in half and do the same to me. I want double the pay or I’m leaving right now.”
“There are four of us and we’ll be taking them by surprise,” insisted Cleathelm although the certainty in his voice faded as he looked across the alcove to his companions.
The little half-breed stared at him with unblinking eyes that glowed yellow in the dark room.
“Stop worrying or I’ll pummel you and question them myself,” Cleathelm snarled, but Blaggard continued to stare at him and move his head in little back and forth motions. “If you don’t stop looking at me like that I’ll break your face right now. We can take him and his friends no problem. If he scares you so much then just stay up here and hide while we take care of business.”
“Ok,” said Blaggard, crossing his arms in front of his knees, curling up into a smaller little ball, and ducking his head down.
“Damn you,” said Cleathelm. “We need you to do the talking; you’re clever with the knife. Fine, I’ll give you double what we agreed but that’s it, no more. Agreed?”
The little goblin restrained his smile, put his hand to his chin as if to think about it a little longer, and then nodded his head slowly, “I agree but that means the half you paid me up front is not enough. Give me half of the new price.”
“I didn’t bring enough to pay you that much,” said Cleathelm and unconsciously moved his hand towards the purse full of coins at his side, “you greedy little bastard.”
“A dwarf calling a goblin greedy?” said Braggard with a smile, “That’s the rat calling the vulture disgusting.”
“What?” said Cleathelm. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Braggard blinked his eyes once, started to open his mouth, but then thought better of it, “Never mind, just give me what you’ve got and we’ll figure the rest out after.”
“Fine,” grumbled the dwarf, and began to shift around in the little alcove to retrieve the coin pouch from his belt but succeeded only in almost kicking his axe over the side. He managed to grab it with a quick stab, “Damn it,” he said, “squeeze over and give me some room. I can’t get at my coins.”
“I can see it,” said Braggard reaching forward with grasping little hands, the nails dirty and bitten down to almost the nub. “Let me do it for you.”
Cleathelm slapped away the little goblin’s hand with a violent motion, “Get your filthy paws away from my coin, you little rotter.”
“Could it be there’s more in there they you let on,” said the goblin with a grin as he snatched his hand back and away from the dwarf. “Nasty, lying little dwarf.”
“Go piss yourself,” said Cleathelm in a loud voice, and shoved the little goblin into the corner, struggled to his feet, banged his head against the top of the alcove, and cursed loudly. After a bit he tugged his coin purse from his side and spilled out a few gold coins although it was clear the bag held far more of the metal pieces. “There you go you little blood sucking leech. All you goblins are the same. I don’t know why we tolerate you darkling types in Craggen Steep. The place should be kept for pure-blooded dwarves. The rest of you taint the place.” He tried to kick Braggard but in the tight confines almost lost his balance and plunged over the edge. He managed to catch himself at the last moment and sat back down with a thump.
Braggard examined the gold coins; on one side was a two-headed axe while the obverse showed a dwarf carrying a tower shield emblazoned with the symbol of a heavy hammer. “Good coins you dwarves make,” he said. “The gold is fine quality and the weight true. I’ve heard you make platinum coins as well and fine quality gemstones cut by masters.”
“Shut your yap,” said Cleathelm. “You’ll get no more from me, no gold, no conversation, no friendship. You do your job and we go our separate ways. Count yourself lucky I don’t report you to the High Council and have the guards finish you once and for all. I could do it you know, my father is on the Council.”
“Awww, don’t be like that,” said Braggard although it was everything he could manage to keep the chuckle out of his tone. “We can do business in the future. You can’t blame a goblin for negotiating a fair price.”
“Just shut up and wait,” said Cleathelm and leaned back into the alcove so that his back rested against the rear wall. “Keep a sharp eye out.”
The next few hours passed in abject silence as the two shifted in place now and again, and stretched their arms and legs to keep the blood circulating. Eventually a loud whisper came from across the way, “Cleathelm?”
“Be quiet over there,” whispered back the dwarf although he used the opportunity to climb to his feet and lean out a bit.
“Watch your clodhoppers,” said Braggard, pulling his hand out of the way at the last moment.
“What?” came another, louder whisper from across the room.
“I said be quiet,” said Cleathelm in a louder voice.
“What?” came the reply.
“For the love of Davim, I said be quiet,” shouted Cleathelm across the divide. “We’re trying to catch Delius and the others red-handed. If you keep shouting what chance is there of that?”
“I don’t think they’re coming,” yelled the voice in a loud tone that carried easily across the room and seemed to echo in the workshop. “I’m getting cramps and I’m hungry. Did you bring any food?”
“Yeah, I’m hungry too,” said another voice from across the way. “I didn’t think we’d be stuck up here for hours. You said they’d come first thing, Cleathelm.”
“Will all of you just shut up!” shouted Cleathelm as he shifted back in the forth in the small alcove unable to pace effectively. “Will you give me some room,” he said and glared down at the little goblin who was curled up into the corner like a mouse hiding from the cats.
“I don’t think they’re coming,” said the little half-breed from his position and shrugged his shoulders.
“They’ll come, this is their only chance to get the hammer.”
“Maybe they don’t want the hammer,” said Blaggard, looked up from his curled position, and managing to sidle slightly away from the ready elbow that the dwarf brandished.
“They want the damn hammer,” repeated Cleathelm. “I overheard Fierfelm talking about it. He made some stupid promise to the old First Edos. It’s all arranged.”
“What if they changed their minds?” said the half-breed in a low tone and tried to scoot even further away from Cleathelm. “What if the First Edos was playing a trick on you?”
“I’m getting thirsty,” rang out a voice from across the hall.
“Fine,” shouted back Cleathelm and gave off a loud blast of breath, “climb down and get some food and drink for all of us. We might be here all night.”
This proclamation elicited groans and murmurs of protestation but eventually a heavily armed dwarf, wearing thick chain mail with a war axe strapped to his side, started to climb down from the opposite alcove although his axe slipped out of belt and clattered to the ground with a loud bang.
“For the love of Davim,” shouted Cleathelm, “will you keep it down, morons!”
It took the short legged dwarf another a few seconds to scramble down the side of the wall and then more time yet to gather his weapon, “Sorry about that.”
After the squat little dwarf wandered off another voice came shouting across the divide, “I have to pee.”
The half-breed goblin next to Cleathelm laughed until a well-placed elbow dug into his ribs, but even then he couldn’t help but snicker now and again as they awaited the return of their food.