BTtNR - Book 3 - Chapter 022 -

“I’m afraid nothing is going as we had hoped,” Osvif said. “Every blacksmith in town wants a literal giant arm or leg to fix our harpoons.”

Einar could see Bartia's expression and knew his face had to be red because of how hot it felt.

“They’re trying to take advantage of us, aren’t they?”

“Correct,” she replied. “I have tried to convince them otherwise but it appears that someone has gone through all the forges and convinced them to work together on this.  No one has given up a name but that is the only explanation for how this happened so quickly.”

“Fifteen forges, Einar.  Fifteen.  I mean, I don’t think we would have this kind of problem back home.  What do you think we should do?”

Still frowning, he studied his friend and Bartia, letting his mind wander.

“You could just wait and store everything we don’t want to take,” Avitue said. “Why trade off items you know they want? If we show that we’re unwilling to give stuff away and they stay here for months, surely they’d be more inclined to offer us stuff later.”

“It’s the cost,” Einar replied. “Loki himself would be impressed with how much they’re asking to keep everything stored for us. The problem is that we only need a few items from the giant. The bones aren’t going to do much for us. I’ve already harvested all the marrow that we could keep unspoiled.  The bones are trade items and nothing more.”

“So you’re going to pay the rate?” Bartia asked, her eyes widening. “I mean, an entire leg and arm bone?”

“This pass we’re about to go through at some point. Can we even use the ballistas in there?”

She bobbed her head from side to side.

“Possibly.  The pass is easily thirty feet tall and again over thirty yards wide.  The real problem is all the tunnels and branches that run off it.  We’re going to have to be on the lookout for all those creatures you have listed.  Finding them will require us to leave the path and your wagons can’t fit down all of them. Only a few sections are well lit, so we will be burning torches, lamps and any ember stones we can acquire from here.”

“Which are going to cost us another arm,” Osvif complained.

“Four days, and then we need to be ready to leave,” Einar said, ignoring his friend's complaint. “Gromm may or may not see us, and I won’t sit around much longer and wait.  I’ve got another plan I want to try to get repairs done.  Maybe it works, maybe it won’t, but we’ll know just how greedy a dwarf can be.”

Snorting, Bartia frowned.

“I would be offended if that wasn’t a true statement. Just tell me what you need to do and I’ll make it happen.”

A grin replaced the frown he had been wearing for a while and Einar motioned for everyone to draw close.

“Have them here first thing in the morning. Tell them I will give one of those who show up a finger bone, regardless of whether anyone helps us.”

“You’re going to give them the finger?” Avitue asked, her tone now playful.

“Absolutely.”

***

“That’s a lot of dwarves,” Thorodd whispered. “I mean we’re up to fifty right now and Bartia said she’s cutting off those who are trying to come in unless they are an actual smith at a forge in town.”

“It’s okay,” Einar replied, motioning to Stefi whom he had managed to enlist in this plan. “All this will do is help prove a point to every dwarf in this city.”

“Hey, you lot! Shut your mouths before I stick my boot in it!”

Laughter came from all the dwarves gathered but a few seconds later the murmuring that had sounded like a swarm of bees in a room went silent as Stefi glared at them.

“I want to thank you all for coming!” Einar shouted. “As you can see I have the finger I’ll be giving away to one of you in just a few minutes!”

“What? Are you trying to–”

“Komli Bloodrock you best shut your pie hole before my boot finds its way to your tongue from the other end!”

Chuckles came from the gathered mob as the rotund, bald dwarf who had spoken up turned apple red and glared at Stefi. 

“You think you can–”

Like someone had parted the sea, dwarves scampered away as the dwarven woman, who was starting to earn a special place in Einar’s heart, stomped toward the man.

“Wait!” Komli protested as she got in his face, grabbed him by his beard, and yanked him down.

“If you make another sound, I swear to you I’ll shove my boot so far up your ass you can taste shit I walked in this morning.  Do you understand?”

Even though he couldn’t see Stefi’s expression, Einar could see how pale the dwarf’s head had become.

He nodded and grunted as she shoved him backwards, causing him to stumble and roll.

“You do realize he is six inches taller than her,” Thorodd whispered. “Yet she handled him like a rag doll.”

“Yup, no shush. I don’t need you ruining this moment.”

A grunt was all his second in command gave as Einar nodded when Stefi motioned for him to continue.

“As I said, one of you will be leaving with this.  Each of you put your name on a token as you entered and in a minute Bartia will be here with the container so I can draw the winner. That said, I’m going to say something before she comes.”

Only two grunts and moans came from the crowd, still keeping space between them and Komli who had managed to stand up.

“I need two harpoons repaired. The very harpoons that killed two giants that have been terrorizing your land.  I must admit I am offended that some of you have decided to take advantage of our need for repairs by wanting to charge us more than it would normally cost.”

Chuckles and grunts were his reply as a dozen or more dwarves smiled at him.

“I guess when I reach the capital, and your King asks me why I wasn’t able to slay any more giants on my journey, I’ll have to inform him that you all were greedy and cared more about your own pockets than the number of dwarves who have been buried by these monsters.”

“You can’t–”

“QUIET!”

Stefi’s voice echoed off the walls of the room they were in.  He had chosen to stay inside the warehouse that had been provided and motioned to Thorodd who moved quickly to the metal doors that were shut behind him.

“It doesn’t matter if you believe Ragnarok is coming or not,” Einar continued, doing his best not to glare as he spoke. “We have come to aid your people because that is our longstanding agreement.”

“But you Vikings have mistreated us and not come to our aid in decades!”

Einar nodded, holding up a hand when Stefi glanced at him.

“That is correct. My brothers and sisters failed that job. I however, Einar Sibbison and the warriors who have come with me will not. We traveled to Alfheim and slayed many creatures, including two Leuca angos! I have come here to trade, to equip my warriors and to slay that which has plagued your kind!”

A few murmurs and grunts came as the collected group of dwarves.

“In order to do that, I need two harpoons repaired. I’m not asking for new ones or you to craft me a hammer worthy of a god! All I simply need is for the metal to be fixed. I ask this because the giant that had been terrorizing your walls and fields almost killed Bartia Shatterplate.”

“It’s true!” Every head turned as she strode past them, holding the jar with tokens. “The creature threw its weapon at me and had it not been for his wife and her command of wind, I would have been flattened like a bug under my boot.”

She moved slowly, her head swiveling as she locked eyes with the dwarves on both sides.

“I may be young and my beard may be shorter than all of you, but I have watched Einar and his warriors slay hundreds of beasts that plague our land. When we were caught in a frenzy he waded through them, blue flames coming from his hands like whips, searing the flesh and tearing the rats apart.”

Bartia reached where Einar was and handed him the jar.

“Why should we believe you? What if he’s paying you for such stories?!”

Some murmurs and grunts came from those gathered, a few moving from the shorter dwarf with a white beard hanging past his waist.

“Old Orin Mudfoot,” Bartia said slowly. “You have been around longer than most of us can count.”

Chuckles came from all the dwarves as they nodded, letting the older dwarf move to the front of them.

“Tell me, how many dwarven weapons have you crafted?”

“Bah, what kind of foolish question is that?” he replied, glaring at Bartia. “You cannot imagine how many tools and weapons I made before you were born! Why does that matter?”

“So would you say you make the best weapons in all of Mighahm?”

He paused, hearing the sound of the dwarves gathered around him, every eye now facing him as the crowd waited for an answer.

“What kind of question is that? You know–”

“So you’re afraid to say that you don’t make the best weapons in all of Mighahm?” Bartia shouted, cutting him off.

“I–”

“Yes or no! Are you the best or not?!”

“I AM!” Orin bellowed, his face now red.

“Lies!”

“Untrue!”

“QUIET!” Stefi shouted, cutting off the chaos and cacophony of noise that had started.

“Then prove it,” Bartia said as she seized the silence. “Show us one of your best weapons and let Einar Sibbinson strike it one time with his axe! Let us see if it is a weapon worthy to be used or something that will shatter under this tiny Viking’s strength!”

“What… why… why would I risk one of my weapons? How does this–”

“So you’re afraid? Afraid it will shatter and all here will see how worthless your weapons are.”

Einar watched as the older dwarf’s skin turned so red he was certain it could melt ore, eyes ready to cast gouts of flame at the woman next to him.

“You dare call my weapons worthless?! You are a fool! A young fool!”

“And you, Orin Mudfoot are a coward, unwilling to accept a challenge before all those gathered.”

He spat, turning to look at the crowd that had moved a little bit further away from him.

Einar could see the dwarf’s expression change. He was caught in a trap. Bartia had played her role perfectly. Now it was his turn.

“I’ll offer a leg bone if I cannot damage your weapon with a single strike,” Einar announced. “But if I do, you’ll fix my harpoons for free to prove you can do quality work after all.”

The rage color returned as Orin frowned momentarily, grabbing his white beard and stroking it.

“A femur. Not one of the small bones.”

“That is fine,” Einar said, nodding at Thorodd who began pushing on the metal door, causing it to slide open and reveal ten of his Vikings, all holding a femur on their shoulders.

He smiled as the expressions on every dwarf present watched them enter, the enormous bone on display as they came to where he stood, setting it down with a thud on the stone.

“I’ve brought my wager. Where is yours?” Einar asked.

“I… I shall go and retrieve it!” Orin shouted, turning to head toward the exit.

“Don’t take too long,” Bartia called out. “Otherwise, some of us might think you were a coward and either decided not to return or asked someone else to lend you a weapon they made!”

Two fingers were inserted in his other hand, and Orin said something in dwarvish. She responded in their language, which caused the crowd to laugh as the older dwarf hurried away.

“What did he say?” Einar asked her as the dwarf started to jog.

“That he was going to do something to me, and I told him the only thing long on his body was his beard.”