Beers and Beards: A Cozy Dwarf Tale

“Do you want to do the talking, Annie?” I asked, as I adjusted the carry platter. The moment would be ruined if I spilled the drinks.

“Yes. You can come across as insincere. Sorry Pete.” Annie shifted from foot to foot, pumping herself up.

“No, no. I absolutely am insincere when it comes to crap like this. It’s a habit from dealing with a world where the customer is always right.”

“Okay. Is Balin ready?”

“He and Tania both gave me the signal a moment ago.” Aqua called from the door to the kitchen.

“Let’s do this.” Annie moved forward and I followed behind her, carrying the drinks.

There was no fanfare, nothing that would mark the next events as out of the ordinary. This was simply the owner walking over to greet some distinguished guests.

“Master Brewer Browning!” Annie said, making a small bow. “You made it!”

Malt waved. “‘Allo little Goldstone!” Annie gave him a strained smile.

Browning looked up from his menu. “Annie Goldstone. I see that you’ve made a lot of changes in the scant few weeks that you’ve been in charge.”

“Yes, I -” Annie began.

“It’s a shame that so much of it is a slight against your ancestors.” Browning interrupted. “Do you really think all those Goldstones hanging in your foyer would be proud of the circus you’ve turned this brewery into?”

Annie grunted, but continued to smile. “I think my ancestors would be proud that we’ve made the brewery a place where dwarves can come and partake in our heritage. We actually took some pointers from Master Drum, one of the senior members of the Guild. I wasn’t aware that brewpubs were frowned upon.”

“They’re not.” Malt butted in. “Browning’s just wound up tighter than Lunara’s Lace ‘cause he’s never eaten half the things on this menu. He’s just jealous.”

Browning glared at Malt. “I was saying that a little more decorum could be in order. I noticed those pro-drinkers seem to have their own booth!” He pointed to where Beatbox and Tania were signing autographs. Tania looked up at the motion and fixed Browning with a steely glare. He wilted immediately, then turned back on Annie.

“Your… labourer promised my table a round of drinks - on the house - to apologize for your lack of etiquette.” He said with a derogatory emphasis on ‘labourer’. Jerkwad. “In case you were not aware, it is customary to invite the Honourable Guild of Brewers to the opening of a new brewery.”

“Of course, Master Brewer Browning.” Annie replied with false innocence. “However, we weren’t opening a new brewery, simply re-opening after a renovation. If I’d been aware that you wanted an invitation I would have been happy to extend one. Unfortunately, the Guild has not been communicating with us recently. Either way, I am happy to make good on Brewer Pete’s offer. He received his Specialization earlier this week.”

“She’s got you there, Browning.” Malt interjected. "Congratulations, lad!"

“Not now, Malt!” Browning ground out.

“Aw - go suck on Solen’s Socks Browning and get off yer goat. Are those our drinks? Bring them here!”

I swept in and deposited a mug in front of each of the brewers. The twins barely gave me a second glance, same with the green-bearded beauty. At least the gentledwarf with the mutton-chops gave me an acknowledging nod. I passed the last mug to Annie and she raised it in a toast.

“To the future of Beer in Minnova! Long may our brews prosper. FOR THE ANCESTORS.”

The six dwarves each raised their mugs and echoed. “FOR THE ANCESTORS.” Malt paused and sniffed the air, seemingly confused for a moment. Then everyone brought their mugs back and chugged.

As one, five dwarves spat their beer across the table, instantly showering the party with sticky brown fluid. All except Annie, who finished her sip with a stately gesture, and Malt, who swished his with interest.

“This! This! -” Browning sputtered. His lips puckered, and his eyes dilated until they were nearly all white. The other brewers cried out in distress or rage. One of the twins actually fainted in his chair. The dwarfess shrieked so loud my ears rang for a moment. All around us in the pub, activity ceased as everyone turned to see what had happened. There was a hush in the rest of the room, like the calm before a storm.

“Do you like it?” Annie asked in the silence. “It’s the newest product that we’re considering releasing. We call it ‘radler’. Isn’t it scrumptious?”

“LIKE IT!?” Browning jumped to his feet. “This is an affront to beer! An abomination from the deepest pits of the nether! Your ancestors would be ashamed of you!” He slammed his fist down on the table and one of the mugs tipped over, spilling lemon-fresh beer all over the table. It spread in all directions and began to drip onto the ground. Mutton-chops pushed away from the dribbling liquid as though it would bite, or infect him with radical new ideas.

“Ashamed of ME?” Annie slammed her own mug down on the table, spraying radler all over the fainted brewer. He woke up, cried out in horror, then passed out again. “I pour everything into my brewing! It is what I love and what I am. Everything I do is to the betterment of my brew and my craft. Can you truly say the same? Or are you lily-livered, Master Brewer?”

The assembled brewers paled slightly at Annie’s words. Browning went white, then purple.

“HOW DARE YOU!” Spittle and flecks of radler flew from his beard. “I am the Guild Master of the Honourable Guild of Brewers! You will treat me with the RESPECT owed to a Greybeard!”

“A Greybeard?” Annie scoffed. “The only grey in your beard is from fear. From quaking in your boots at the thought of a future where beer is more than an institution. From the idea that any dwarf could improve on the glorious dwarven tradition of brewing!”

“I’ll - I’ll throw you out of the Guild of Brewers! Your ancestors would be spinning in their graves! Where is yourfather? Does he know what his horrible spawn is doing to the Goldstone legacy?”

Annie’s face turned a shade of puce. “You leave my father out of it! I’ve been wondering what was wrong with him, and now I think I know. If I had to deal with a bunch of mudslime like you all the time, I’d be falling apart too! You want to throw us out of the Guild? Who cares! We’ll continue selling whatever we want! Our radler will be in every restaurant in Minnova within the year!”

“We won’t let you!”

“There’s. Nothing. You. Can. Do. About. It.” Annie grated out each syllable with gritted teeth. She and Browning were practically standing nose to nose. Beside them Malt had shrunk back cradling his radler. He took a small sip and nodded appreciatively.

“Browning, maybe we should - “

“A FEUD!” Browning roared, and the entire pub jumped. “I DECLARE A FEUD! THE HONOURABLE GUILD OF BREWERS CALLS OUT THE GOLDSTONE CLAN!”

Annie looked ready to pop him in the nose, so I decided that was my time to step in. Losing her cool was not part of the plan. Besides, her part was technically done. She managed to step back but continued to glare daggers at Browning.

“You declared a Feud. What are the terms?” I said smoothly.

“You! You are the instrument of all this!” Browning rounded on me, and Balin moved forward. Tania grabbed him by the collar of his golden armor and held him back. She shook her head ‘no, not yet’.

“I think you’ll find that I am merely the instrument of a greater power.” I puffed out my chest with a bravado I barely felt. Over by the kitchen, Aqua choked.

Browning barked a laugh. “The Nether? I can believe it.”

“You declared a feud, Brewer.” I left off the ‘master’ and added an insulting inflection. A vein in Browning’s forehead practically burst. “Annie Goldstone has given me full authority to speak on her behalf. What. are. your. terms?

“You! You will never be allowed to brew in Minnova ever again. You will cease any more desecration of our Sacred Brew. In fact, I extend that to the entire Goldstone Clan! Those are our Terms!” There was an audible *gasp* around the pub. A few dwarves stood up menacingly, but Balin and Tania moved to keep everyone in their seats.

I gave a savage grin. So far everything was going to plan. “Do you speak for the entire Guild of Brewers, or the Browning Brewery?”

“I speak for ALL Brewers when I declare you an affront to our most dearly held traditions!” Browning snapped. The twins and the dwarfess nodded with savage satisfaction, though mutton chops looked a little unsure. Malt jumped up with a look of horror.

“Now hold on a minute, Browning! If we lost, the entire Guild would be unable to brew!!”

“AM I NOT THE MASTER OF THIS GUILD, MALT!?” Browning rounded on the elderly Dwarf, shoving him down into his seat. “These upstarts are a threat to the very institution of brewing! I hold you to your OATH, to protect brewing in Minnova!”

“You’ve been layin’ a bit hard on that Oath, Browning.” Malt snapped. “This isn’t what it’s for!”

“If you have a problem with it, then vote me out.” Browning hissed. “But I suspect that the majority of the Guild will agree with me.” Malt’s expression grew dark and cloudy, but he sat quietly back in his seat. For a few seconds the only sound in the pub was the *drip* *drip* of spilled radler. Everyone in the pub waited to hear our answer.

“By the Ordinances, Chapter 1, Section 4, Subsection 21, the Goldstone Clan accepts your Feud. By our own grace, we offer the Honourable Guild of Brewers clemency. Should we win, the Terms will only apply to the Browning Brewery.” My voice sat heavy in the silence. This step was important, because it set the Browning clan as our real enemy. It would help us look good in the eyes of the dwarven population, who might otherwise be furious at the possibility of losing the entire Guild of Brewers. Browning tsk’ed, but Malt’s face relaxed with relief.

“As if you have a chance. As the Terms are accepted, you may declare the Contest.” Browning crossed his arms in impatience.

“The Contest will take place in the field of brewing!” I pronounced with gusto.

The brewers laughed, their mocking jeers echoing in the pub. Even Malt looked amused. Browning was practically beside himself with mirth.

“Ha! You think that you can compete with the entire Honourable Guild of Brewers in brewing!? Annie Goldstone, does this fool truly speak for you?”

“Here is our challenge!” I pitched my voice to carry in the entire room. “The decamillenial fast approaches! Now is the time to reinvigorate our traditions! To celebrate the meeting of the new and the old! To spread the word of The Brew! For our Challenge, we will make Minnova talk about beer!”

That shut them up. The brewers looked at each other in confusion, and there was a low murmur in the rest of the pub. “Talk about beer?” Malt asked.

“Yes. In two weeks the Goldstone Clan and the Honourable Guild of Brewers will each release a beer that they think the dwarves of Minnova will appreciate. Sixteen days later, the beer that is the most talked about by the populace will be the winner!”

“What, do you think that your radler will be capable of sparking anything other than horrified whispers?” Browning said with a barking laugh. “At least your Contest is one worthy of the True Brew! We accept! But-” Browning frowned, “how do you plan to judge it?”

It was still going according to plan. Browning was such a pompous ass he never even considered the danger hidden in that Contest. I hid glee in my heart and began, “We’ll start with a random sample of dwarves -”

“I think I can be of help.” A voice interrupted from behind me.

The crowd parted to reveal Prophet Barnes. I’d completely forgotten he was here! Argh, this was no longer going to plan! The elderly dwarf padded forward and everyone made the usual holy sign.

“Prophet Barnes.” Browning said respectfully. “Are you here to judge these forsaken souls in Barck’s name?”

“You presume much, Master Brewer Browning, to use Barck’s name. Shut yer trap.” The Prophet snapped. “Only one of us speaks for the Gods here, and it certainly isn’t you!”

Browning shrunk back, and bowed in obeisance.

“Now,” Barnes continued. “This Feud has a wide enough impact that it interests the Gods.”

There was a gasp around the room, and even Annie looked horrified. Knowing Barnes and the Gods in question I… withheld judgment. Seven of those Gods weren’t really on my side after all.

Barnes waited a moment to build suspense and then dropped a bomb. “Midna, Goddess of Communication Herself, will provide the result of this Feud.”

*Bing!*

The Feud

You have been challenged to a Feud that will decide the course of Brewing in Crack forever! Will you win? Midna will be the judge of that! Don’t you dare lose.

Feuds Won: 0/1

Reward: +0.2 Cha, [Blessed] condition

Do you accept?

Yes/No

After a moment of stunned silence, the pub rocked on its foundations.