Chapter 43: Meet the Goldstones

Chapter 43: Meet the Goldstones

It was a beautiful day.

The birds were singing.

There are no birds here.

The sky was blue. nove(l)bi(n.)com

There is no sky.

The grass was green.

The groundcover is mostly brown scrub.

I had a beautiful woman by my side.

“Aaron’s Arse! Penelope stop trying to eat my pants!”

I shooed away the touchy feely goat and continued doing what I was apparently cursed by the gods to spend my eternity doing.

Shoveling goat shit.

I hummed a little “Highway to Hell” as I dodged a headbutt to my crotch, I was getting good at that, and started up the hose. Penelope made a graceful pirouette over the water as I aimed at her.

“Maaaah!”

[Translated from prima donna goat] “You missed me, peasant.”

“What’s that Penelope? You want me to give you a bath? I could add some flowers to the water, maybe some...” I placed a thumb over the hose, spraying it out in a wide arc, “VIOLENTS!” The water doused the pure white goat as she bleated in horror. She shook herself off and then pawed the ground.

[Translated from prima donna goat] “Insolence! I shall have you beheaded, varlet! ” She lowered her head and charged.

I think I saw Annie walk by shaking her head, but I didn’t care, I had to show this stuck up she-goat who the real boss was around here. I rushed forward and met Penelope’s charge head on. We met with a *bang* in the centre of the little goat pen in the back of the brewery. Did you know dwarves have hard heads, especially when they’re wearing a helmet? Penelope didn’t. Her single curled horn bounced off of my skullcap and she reeled backwards.

[Translated from prima donna goat] “Treachery! You are a gifted jouster!” She stumbled back and stared at me unsteadily.

I decided to seal the deal. I had prepared carefully for this day. A solid week of shoveling shit and taking shit, and I had decided the time had come to put this pampered princess in her place. I reached behind the fence and pulled out a bag and a tankard.

“Want to make peace over some goat treats and beer, Penelope?”

Her eyes sparkled as she stared deep into my own. Our souls briefly touched and in that moment, we understood each other. Guy to goat, caprid to cicerone.

[Translated from prima donna goat] “Truly, I was mistaken. I recognize you now as a man of culture!”

“Penelope!”

[Translated from prima donna goat] “Peter!”

We met in the centre of the pen. This time in a hug. I pulled her tight, tears in my eyes. She bleated happily and then ate my cravat.

“Years Yams, are ya romancin’ tha goat Pete?”

“Bugger off, Balin.”

—

Eight days prior.

“Dad, this is Balin and Pete. The two I told you about.”

Aqua had let us hang out in the mess hall until the whole brewery had arrived for dinner. Penelope had been escorted back to her pen while I nursed my injured dignity.

The dwarf in front of us was clearly Annie’s dad. I’m not just saying that because Annie was standing there calling him Dad. Just like Annie, he had a flowing blonde beard, though he had a small tie at the bottom. His head was shaved clean with a short blonde mohawk and a series of tattoos. He was dressed in fine white linen and practical leathers. If that wasn’t enough he was the tallest dwarf I’d seen and had muscles on top of his muscles. If he flexed, he was liable to take out a window when his shirt exploded.

I was happy he was even willing to meet us. No father is going to be over the moon when their daughter comes home from what was essentially prison and says: “Daddy, I met the nicest man in jail and we’re going to be married and I’m going to have his babies and him and his crazy amnesic buddy are going to come stay at our house!”

Balin and I were going to have to tiptoe carefully for the next few weeks.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Goldstone.” I held out my hand. He looked at it and then took it in his meaty appendage. He squeezed, but it was a companionable grip rather than the expected bone crushing crunch of a future father-in-law. I had expected a bit more... vim. I wonder why?

I call bullshit.

“I call bullshit.” John said. “Just last week you were... er.” He glanced at Balin, slightly apologetically. “Something changed your mind, what was it?”

Jeremiah shrugged. “Captain Morris is a drinking buddy of mine.”

Oh. Ooohhh! A piece clicked into place.

“I’m guessin’ you spoke to him recently?” I asked, as I leaned slightly across the table.

“That I did.” Jeremiah grinned widely. “He had a lot to say about you two!”

“Wait, what is he talking about?” Annie asked.

“Oh dear Gods, can I tell her?” Aqua practically squealed.

“Tell her what?” Johnsson asked.

“It’s nothin’ really.” Balin blushed into his mug.

“Balin did a thing.” I said.

“A thing?” Annie raised an eyebrow.

“It was a big thing.” Jeremiah nodded.

“Ay think ya can do away with tha suspense, Boss.” Richter pointed a finger at Jeremiah.

“Fine. Spoilsport. Morris says that Balin was instrumental in saving the lives of over a dozen dwarves. He gained a new title in the middle of a crisis, and held off an entire army of stoneants nearly by himself.” Jeremiah’s grin took up about half his face. “They’re calling him a ‘Hero of Minnova’ in the guard house.”

“WHAT!?!” Annie roared. The rest of the table, except Aqua, looked on in shock, while I nodded smugly.

“So yes, I’m fine with him working here. He’s proven his dedication and willingness to do right. You on the other hand...” Jeremiah turned to look at me, and I gulped, but I sat straight and held my head high.

“Balin is my brother. You don’t need to feel obligated to hire me on, but I am a titled [Alchemist], and I do have some experience with brewing.”

Jeremiah raised an eyebrow. “Annie says you’ve been suffering from Amnesia.”

“Yes sir. I honestly don’t remember a lot about people, places, or things, but I can remember a lot about brewing. I’d be happy to prove it to you.”

“You understand that our brewing is a family secret. The fact that you have knowledge of brewing makes me trust you less not more.” Jeremiah’s gaze turned stormy. It was a storm I’d weathered before. Jeremiah had nothing on the CRA or IRS.

“I do sir, but I place my beliefs in people, not titles or memories. Right now Balin and Annie are the two dwarves that are nearest to my heart and I’d do whatever it takes to help them.”

Jeremiah looked deep in my eyes, and I met them unflinchingly. After a moment, he nodded. “Morris told me about that Gnome lass you saved. I’ll give you a chance, but it’s a chance you’re going to need to earn.”

—

So, now I’m shoveling goat shit again. I wasn’t allowed into the main brewing hall or business discussions until my probation was over, which could take months. It was months I wasn’t willing to spend, so I went and found Balin during my break. Penelope happily capered behind me as I stalked through the mess hall. Balin was carrying a bunch of planks, and whistled while he worked. I was glad he fit in so well, and honestly, I really liked everyone here. They were all quite welcoming, and we got along great, but I was still kind of an outsider. That was something I planned to change.

“Balin, we need to talk.”

“Hey Pete. I see you’ve made up with Penelope.”

“Oh yes, we’re best friends now. Which is why she’ll do this for me. Say hello to Balin, Penelope.” I grabbed Balin’s beard and Penelope butted him in the knees, knocking him to the ground. She ‘maaaahd’ menacingly over him while I sat on his chest to keep him from running off.

“Ow! What was that for, Pete!?”

“I know you and Annie have been keeping secrets. You’re terrible at it. Spill!”

“I don’t know what yer talkin’ about.” Balin’s eye’s shifted slightly up to the left and his voice rose an octave.

“You can’t lie to your brother Balin, you don’t have it in you. I know it’s about the brewery’s finances, now give it!” Jeremiah had been spending more and more time in his office with Tom, and I knew that a shipment of bad beer had been returned. Things weren’t looking good, but I wanted to know just how bad.

“So ya knew.” Balin’s eye’s grew sorrowful. “I would have told ya Pete, but Annie asked me not to. The brewery’s got maybe a month left before tha bills are too much.” His eyes were full of pain.

I whistled. “I guessed as much. Don’t worry about it too much, Annie has the right to protect her father’s secrets. What matters is what you and I know but they don’t.”

Balin’s eyes widened. “That’s right! You!” He lowered his voice. “Yer from another world. Do ya have any ideas ta save us?”

“I just might!” I gave my widest smile and held up a sheet of paper. “We’re going to win a drinking contest.”