She was lucky to have found such friends and such a home, even if she did crave adventure—or at least something to do.
Before she could dwell for too long on her need for purpose, Tinpin hurried through the back door, clapping his wool-encased hands together.
“It’s hopeless,” he cried, stomping snow from his boots. “Hopeless, I tell you.”
He threw off his snow-dusted coat and tossed it onto the nearest barstool, revealing a smart maroon suit expertly crafted from velvet. An ivory ascot was held in place by a glittering garnet stickpin in the shape of a flower. Naturally, the haberdasher had dressed to match the wedding.
“What’s hopeless?” Cali asked.
Tin flailed a hand in the general direction of outdoors. “The blizzard is making it impossible to hold the ceremony outside. Impossible! Not even Erindil’s warming charm can keep the guests from freezing under a tent. Not to mention that the snow is coming down so heavily you can’t even see the stream.”
Pip wrung his hands. “Does that mean there won’t be a wedding? Will they not need a cake?”
“Or cheese?” Fenni added as he emerged from the tavern kitchen, gaining him a perplexed look from the gnome.
Tin then seemed to notice that Pip was standing next to the towering cake that was taller than all three of them. The gnome pressed a hand to his chest. “It’s spectacular, Pip. Truly spectacular. Wayside has never seen one so beautiful.”
Pip flushed from the compliment. “But if there won’t be a wedding?—”
“Nonsense.” Sass hurried inside behind Tin with Val and Thrain close at her heels. “Weddings aren’t about the fripperies or the fancy clothes. They’re about the two people getting married.”
Tin grumbled at this, but not loud enough for anyone to hear. After all, fripperies and fancy clothes were his trade.
“A blizzard isn’t enough to stop a bride, just like stone isn’t enough to stop a pickaxe,” Sass added.
“Are you comparing me to a pickaxe?” Lira asked as she walked down the back stairs, a cloak covering her dress beneath.
“You should be flattered,” Thrain said. “Dwarves love our axes.”
“Aye.” Sass winked at Lira. “I’ve even named axes before.”
Cali understood this, since she once had a bow named Clawsong.
“If the ceremony can’t be in the tent,” Pip asked, “then where?—?”
“Why right here, of course,” Vaskel said as he and Rog gusted inside with a fair amount of snow flurries. “All we have to do is push back the tables and the ceremony can take place in front of the hearth.”
“What about the swaths of gossamer fabric I had draped inside the tent?” Tin asked, his voice rising an octave. “What about the bows on the backs of the chairs?”
“What about the wedding arch?” A deep voice rumbled from the front doorway where Klaff and Vorto stood just outside, carrying the enormous wrought-iron structure between them.
Vaskel crossed the great room to assist, tilting his head as he assessed the massive arch. “Is it possible to bring it in sideways?”
The orcs grunted and maneuvered it onto its side, then Thrain and Rog took the front bars while the orcs pushed from the back. Bit by bit, it wiggled through the door along with the pair of orcs.
Sass stood with her hands braced on her hips as the group straightened the iron arch and placed it on the floor to give everyone a moment to catch their breath. “It’s certainly orc-sized.”
“I suppose I can drape some fabric on that,” Tin muttered, looking slightly mollified.
Iris hurried inside behind the iron arch, rubbing her arms and stamping the snow off her boots. The apothecary pulled a basket packed with fresh flowers and greenery from beneath her cloak. “I barely made it here with these.”
Cali slid off the barstool and hurried to Iris, helping her shed her heavy cloak. “I was worried the storm would keep you away. Much longer, and I was going to come fetch you myself.”
Iris smiled at her. “Not even a blizzard could keep me away from this wedding.”
Cali didn’t miss the shy look the apothecary gave Vaskel or the smoldering one he returned to her. Her own grin widened. It was nice to see her friends happy, although Vaskel being a one-woman hellkin would take some getting used to.
Sass waved Iris over. “There’s still time for us to whip up a bouquet.”
