Two friends, technically. It was certainly true that he wanted to help but leaving Verenvan for a while was also the best thing for him and, of course, for Sera.
Skharr looked around when he heard shouts from inside the tavern. He fastened his trousers quickly and hurried inside after washing his hand under nearby flowing water.
His fears were realized as it looked like Brahgen was well on his way to antagonizing a group of woodsmen.
"Your mother didn’t complain about my size last night," the dwarf snapped with a grin. "Then again, I suppose that says more about your da's size than mine."
"Get the fuck up, little one, and let your betters have a table you don't need."
"Do you think you're better than me because you fit in a larger size britches, ya fat pile of shite? I'll show you that better is as better does, not determined by larger size."
Before the warrior could intervene, Brahgen grasped the back of the man's head and thunked his face on the table. The dwarf didn’t wait for him to recover or any of the other woodsmen to react, but caught the man by the beard with one hand and brought the other up in a fist to deliver a punch to his nose.
It wasn't the most powerful of blows but was more than enough to stun the man, who stumbled back and tried to stem the blood that flowed from his broken nose.
The young dwarf even managed to throw in a couple more strikes at his opponent’s comrades before their size blocked his attempts and they began to restrain him.
"Is that what you need, big man?" Brahgen roared while he continued his attempts to fight them off. "So many big men to fight one small dwarf, is that it?"
Skharr had to respect the youth’s spirit, even if he didn’t put up much of a fight. He stepped closer, took one of the men by the shoulder, and twisted him to face him.
"If you want a shot at the little pest, you'll have to—"
The woodsman’s words cut off when he looked at Skharr and he took a step back.
"There’s no need to wait," he retorted. "I have tree-fucking vermin aplenty to deal with."
His fist met the man's jaw with enough power to spin him in place before he toppled and fell. Their comrade’s predicament immediately caught the attention of the other fighters. All turned to face the barbarian with their eyes narrowed and fists raised, ready for a fight.
"How about fighting someone your own size, you halfwit forest scum?" Brahgen laughed and adjusted his coat.
"It still would not be an even fight," Skharr responded.
"Closer than five of them against only one dwarf."
The youth made a fair point but it was still far from being a fair fight.
The three woodsmen still standing attacked immediately and surged forward while they yelled some kind of battle cry. They grappled him around the waist and forced him back step by step. He managed to rain a handful of blows on them before their combined momentum made it difficult to keep his balance. Their attacks were focused on his abdomen and a handful were aimed at his jaw.
Skharr couldn't help a laugh and not only because he could see Brahgen undaunted and shouting insults in the common and dwarf tongues. It was an interesting and hilarious sight, of course, but there was something more to the laughter. Three days of monotonous travel had been a weight on his mind, even if he hadn't quite noticed it, but there was now drinking and fighting, and with camaraderie to be enjoyed besides.
He twisted, caught hold of two of the men who attempted a combined assault when they thought he was distracted, and yanked them into each other’s paths. Their heads hammered together and he pushed them away, leaving only one woodsman standing against him.
“Well, then, you godsbedammed moss-brained squirrel-fucker. What will it be?”
None could say they lacked in courage, even if it had started with five of them trying to push a single dwarf from his seat. The last woodsman lunged forward as he bellowed their battle cry that still meant nothing to the barbarian, who waited until the last moment. He sidestepped him and he continued his headlong rush into a nearby wall. Before he could recover, the warrior spun swiftly and drove his elbow behind his adversary’s ear.
The man collapsed with a loud thud and his eyes rolled to the back of his head as Skharr looked at the other woodsmen. They all displayed some degree of consciousness or another, but it was clear that the fight had leeched out of them for the moment.
"You need to help your friend," he rumbled as two of them finally regained their feet. "A little water will wake him right the fuck up. Your choice was foolish but you can redeem it by showing a little wisdom and common sense. Leave this place for the night."
They didn't answer but they did do as he had told them and helped one another to exit the tavern. A few groans accompanied their pained retreat, although they paused to dart resentful glares to a group of their fellows they were leaving behind.
"Will you make up for what those five would have paid for their stay?" the innkeeper asked as he approached them. He tried to not show the anger that had built inside him but wasn’t entirely successful.
"Where were you when they were harassing another of your patrons?" Skharr asked and raised an eyebrow.
"Five spend more than one."
"You haven't met this one," he snapped, took three gold pieces from his purse, and handed them to the man. "Now make yourself useful and find us the kind of food you give to your better-paying patrons. Now!"
The proprietor’s eyes bulged at the sight of the gold and his grin spread wide although he jumped when the barbarian raised his voice.
"Of course! I will return with your victuals."
Skharr shook his head and winced as he touched a handful of tender places that were likely to become bruises that wouldn't go away for a week.
"You are quite handy in a fight, big-un," the dwarf commented as a group of serving girls exited the kitchens with platters of steaming food.
"You made a good showing for yourself as well," he responded. "You have the speed and dexterity that make a good fighter, but you need more power in your punches."
"I haven't the muscles—"
"Shit from a bull. Power comes from the legs and flows through the body. With a little training, I might make a fighter of you yet. But if you have a moment in the fight when they are distracted, you might want to think about slipping a few items from them when they have their minds on other matters."
"Oh?" Brahgen grinned, took two silvers from his belt, and smacked them onto the table. "You mean like these?"
He nodded. "Aye. Or something like this." He retrieved a heavy coin purse, a ring, and a knife from under his coat and dropped them beside the coins.
The dwarf narrowed his eyes and tried to decide when Skharr had managed to take the items from the men who had attacked him. After a moment, he simply shook his head and laughed. "Barbarians."
They tapped their glasses together before they started enthusiastically on the food brought for them.
"Do you think we will be lucky enough for another fight to find us?" Brahgen asked.
"One can only hope," the warrior answered over the lip of his mug. "With that in mind, we might want to set up a few watches for the evening."
"Agreed."