Chapter 080: What's Bothering Gred

That evening, Gred offered to buy Jess dinner at the Pig and Whistle. They had both made it back alive, and Jess had somehow become a hero of the kingdom. That called for a celebration.

The Pig and Whistle was especially crowded that night. Someone had even set up a long table in the middle of the hall for a feast.

A gnome—or rather, a human with dwarfism, not a real gnome—was dancing and singing on the table. Twenty or thirty people below him sang along, laughing, drinking, and eating meat in great mouthfuls.

The other guests were packed around the edges, but they all seemed to be celebrating something of their own. The tavern was constantly battered by one loud noise after another.

This time the two ordered Redridge stew, roasted Goldskin apples, and pan-fried Stonescale salmon, all full of Redridge flavor. For drinks they chose mild ale from the Dwarven District. Gred was willing to compromise a little for Jess and drink something lighter.

Jess practically had to roar his order. Otherwise, the server couldn't hear a word. By the time they'd settled everything, he felt short of breath. He slowly slumped over the table like a robot whose power had been switched off.

Gred didn't say anything. He just watched the little man dancing happily on the table, apparently lost in thought.

The man wore gnome clothes and one of the little caps gnomes liked, and he danced like a gnome. Apart from the fact that his ears and eyes weren't as large and prominent, he almost looked like one.

Seeing Gred so quiet, Jess's own thoughts drifted toward Westfall.

He started planning what to bring, when to leave, what trouble he might run into, how to carry his imp, when the imp could come out, and when it absolutely couldn't.

He was still thinking when the server brought out their roasted Goldskin apples. Suddenly Gred's expression changed.

“What's this supposed to mean?” he demanded, glaring at the server.

The waitress froze. When she realized there was nothing else on the table, she understood the problem. “I'm terribly sorry. We're so busy tonight. I apologize for the mistake.”

“Take this apple dessert where it belongs! Now!” Gred shouted.

“Yes!” The frightened waitress trembled, picked up the apples, and hurried away.

Jess lowered his voice. “It's just the two of us eating together. You don't need to make it so formal, Gred.”

“Formal? What does formality have to do with it?” Gred said crossly. “If you eat sweets before a proper meal, how are you supposed to have room for meat and sausages? But if you eat a little something sweet after a good meal, then dessert does its job. It makes you happy, cheers you up, cuts through the grease, and gives you an appetite again so you're ready for the next meal!”

Jess just stared at him as he listened to that ridiculous explanation. He knew Gred wasn't truly angry because a server had brought dessert too early.

“So what's actually wrong?”

A small provenance note: this page copied the chapter without the author's permission. The author's publishing page carries the published version.

Gred glanced over, stunned for a moment, before realizing what Jess was asking. The anger slowly drained from his face.

“All right... I can't believe that orc knocked me over with one blow.”

Jess couldn't follow the sudden change of subject at first. Then he realized what had been eating at Gred all evening—and why he'd lost his temper over something so absurd.

“You mean that shaman?”

The dwarf began complaining miserably. “The wise men up at Aerie Peak are all so polite and scholarly. I've never seen them fight, or even hit anyone. They're like kind teachers and elders, patient with every kind of trouble. I figured the wise men among orcs would be more or less the same.”

“Maybe that orc is a polite teacher and elder among his own people,” Jess suggested.

Gred burst out laughing just as the waitress put a plate of fried fish in front of him.

“Then being an orc must be awful.” He dipped his finger in the fish sauce and tasted it. “I still can't understand that power. That force. I've never fought an orc myself, but I've seen dwarf warriors who fought them. Those dwarves weren't frightened of orc warriors. Yes, orcs are strong, but not that strong... And I was one of the best among those warriors. That's why they picked me as a gryphon rider! Dwarves shouldn't be so much weaker than orcs that we can't even survive a single blow.”

Jess speared a piece of fish with his fork. “That's what orc shamans are like. When he charged, I could see he was calling on the wind element to strengthen his attack. Didn't you feel it?”

“Wind element?” Gred thought for a moment. “When he struck my shield, I did feel an incredibly strong gust. Can wind elements strengthen a shaman's muscles? Come to think of it, my left arm still aches a little. That's a real blow to my pride.”

“The wind must have made his charge stronger,” Jess said. “Why else would he summon it while attacking?”

“That makes me feel a little better, Jess. More damned magic.” Gred dipped his finger into the fish sauce again.

“Stop. Just stop.” Jess pointed at his hand. “One dip was enough. Don't get your spit all over the fish! You've got a fork right there.”

The dwarf chuckled, wiped his fingers on his clothes, and picked up his fork.

Jess ate another piece of fish and said, “Think about the human soldiers who fought the orc armies in the Black Morass, Stranglethorn, Elwynn, Redridge, and Westfall. I doubt that shaman was especially powerful or important among the Horde. Yet he still put the two of us through that much trouble. Imagine how much the Alliance must have sacrificed to drive them back.”

“Of course I know,” Gred said. “And that's not even counting the Amani trolls, or their...”

He hesitated.

“Forget it. There's nothing to talk about. It's all in the past anyway. There are fewer and fewer orcs now. Next time, I won't drag you into another death trap without first finding out what the job really involves.”

“So you admit it was a death trap,” Jess said. “That shaman was built like an elephant. I stabbed him twice, and both times my sword got stuck against his bones. That thing was... He wasn't even a normal creature!”

“It was my fault,” Gred said. “Speaking of which, have you ever seen an ogre?”

“No,” Jess replied.

At last, the server brought their stew. The plate was piled with oily organ meat and chunks of bone-in meat in a thick reddish-brown sauce, steaming hot. Large pieces of fat wobbled as the plate touched the table. It looked incredibly tempting.

“Now we can eat!” Gred grabbed a length of intestine with his bare hand and stuffed it into his mouth. He chewed slowly. “Now that's a special taste, Jess. I know you can't stand eating animal guts. You Stormwind humans are all the same. You don't know good food when you see it.”

Jess snorted at his lack of worldly experience. “Let's get back to those ogres.”

“The Wildhammer army ran into Horde ogres in Arathi.” The dwarf licked the oil from his fingers. “Every one of those ogres was at least ten feet tall. A human and a half, understand? I know that's hard to picture, but once you're standing in front of one, it's something else. They're not just tall. They're huge and fat. A dwarf can stab one in the belly and pull his sword out without seeing any blood. Just yellow stuff.”

“Shit?”

“Fat!” Gred poked at the fat on the plate. “This stuff! They don't care about little stab wounds. A blow that'd kill a troll outright barely affects them. If you slash at their necks, your sword gets swallowed by the flesh and you can't pull it free. Without a long weapon, you can barely draw blood. And then, can you imagine, some of those things can use magic!”

“Not to mention dragons,” Jess said.

“Not to mention dragons!” Gred nodded emphatically several times.