Questions

Tolkyn sighed as he lifted his mug, his hood now drawn over his head. The ale was not that of a palace but be damned if a dwarf didn't enjoy a brew. It was water compared to the Dwarven Slugger, in his mind. Then again, many of the humans, elves, and inbetween had no caves to draw the correct fungi from.

Down went the last swallow and he set down the mug none too gently. The pains were dulled at the least. His belly was satisfied, his fingers quickly picking lamb out of his beard and mustache. Can't go around looking like a vagabond, he thought. If ever a pride was had that was not clan honor, it would be his beard and mustache. Not that all dwarves had rat nests as beards, but some of the ones he had seen were so matted it was a wonder that a bird did not nest in them.

He saw the boy from earlier come in. The dwarf kept his eyes on that one. The boy had raised a hood and sat far away from the bar, trying to be inconspicuous. Tolkyn gave a slight shake of his head. By trying to look inconspicuous, he had achieved the opposite. He watched him from his own hooded shadows, silently betting that he was not the only who saw the mercenary. When the bar wench leaned down to say something, he saw him stiffen in surprise.

Not as sneaky as you thought, huh?

The same girl came to serve him again. As he raised his mug for another pouring of ale, he asked her in a low voice, "That man, over there. Who be that boy?"

He gestured with only a finger from the hand that held his mug in such a casual manner, he would be surprised if anyone else saw him directly pointing. As she finished and drew breath to answer, he paid her for the drink, ensuring there were a few gold bits in among the silver. "I ask only to apologize," he said in a sincere voice, still low so none but the closest prying ears could hear.