[Arry]

While Unna sang, Skald stood with a number of his friends near the newly tapped keg of ale. He was well into his cups as were his companions. Their legs were a bit wobbly and their speech a little slurred. But, they were still standing . . . and for a Dwarf, that was call enough for another round.

‘Nice voice . . . your brother’s wife,’ whispered Olin Glitterfist, noting the lopsided grin on Skald’s face. ‘Not you! I’ve heard you sing . . . like an old rusty hinge!’

Skald raised his brows and was about to retort when he saw Riv motioning him over. ‘Just your luck my brother needs me,’ he said, punching Olin lightly in the arm. ‘Otherwise it would be me and you . . . hand to hand . . . and me wipin’ the very floor with you!’ Olin laughed and was quickly silenced by the shushes of those listening to the song.

With a decided list, Skald made it to the long table where Riv sat. Working his way down toward his brother’s seat he stumbled against many a chair, leaving a string of ‘Sorry!’ and ‘Your pardon!’ in his wake.

When he arrived, Riv pulled the empty chair next to his left and bade him sit down. Riv’s face had a serious look on it as did that of his father. They had pulled apart from their hushed conversations as Skald approached. Drawing a deep breath, Skald made an effort to pull his senses together. He was quite sober by the time Viss had relayed the content of their hurried whisperings to him.