Chapter 17: Another day at the tavern
The tavern sat at the heart of the village like a stone thrown into still water, its influence rippling outward through the community in ways both seen and unseen. It provided respite for the men and women who worked hard labour all day.
Built of the same granite that formed the bones of the mountains themselves, its thick walls had weathered countless storms and sheltered generations of villagers seeking warmth, companionship, and the kind of liquid courage that could only be found at the bottom of a tankard.
The snow-covered roofs and the cold air around the tavern seemed to only enhance the cosy glow emanating from within.
Jaenor pushed through the heavy oak door into the familiar warmth and clamour, the scents of roasted meat and brown ale washing over him like a comfortable embrace.
The common room stretched before him, its low-beamed ceiling blackened by decades of hearth smoke, the walls lined with rough-hewn tables where the village’s men gathered to discuss the day’s work and the world’s troubles in equal measure.
Taeryn and Baren had already claimed their usual table near the great fireplace, both looking considerably more human than they had the previous evening.
Taeryn’s face still bore the pallor of a man who had made too intimate an acquaintance with fermented barley, but his eyes were clear and his hands steady as he raised his mug in greeting.
"The conquering hero arrives," Baren called out with a grin that spoke of mischief barely contained. The blacksmith’s powerful frame filled his chair, his leather apron replaced by a clean shirt that did little to disguise the breadth of his shoulders.
"We were beginning to think you’d found more interesting company than a pair of humble craftsmen."
Jaenor settled into the vacant chair, signalling to Willem, the tavern keeper, for ale.
The grizzled veteran acknowledged the request with a nod, his wooden leg tapping against the floorboards as he made his way to the bar.
Willem had lost the limb in some distant conflict that he rarely spoke of, but his skill with both blade and brew remained undiminished by the years.
"Interesting is one word for it," Jaenor replied carefully, though he could feel the weight of his friends’ expectant gazes. Village life left few secrets unturned, and he knew they would pry every detail from him before the evening was through.