Page 4 of An Arrow to the Heart

“A warm bed if you’ve space, a pint of whatever you’d recommend and a plate of the source of that delicious smell,” Ardál said.

“No bother, Lonan will show you to your room and I’ll have your food and drink waiting for you on your return,” with that Ardál watched as the man called down the bar to Lonan and gestured toward him.

Lonan looked to be human of a similar age to himself. He was strongly built but had a kindness about him that left Ardál immediately at ease in the man’s presence.

He gave Phelan an enthusiastic pet as he greeted them. “Been on the road long have you?” He asked as he led them to the back of the establishment, up the creaking wooden stairs.

“Ah yes and no, I mean I like to think of myself as an adventurer so technically I’m always on the road but it has been a while since I’ve had a warm bed. It’ll be good to get dried up and get some warm grub in my belly.”

“Ah yes, Valeska’s been cooking up a lovely beef stew today. She’s just finished a batch of sweet rolls too, not going to lie, they are the best in the continent. Make sure you get yourself one or two.”

Ardál smiled in response although he was struggling not to actively salivate at the thought of those sweet rolls. Lonan proceeded to walk them down the corridor to their room.

“Here you go, number three. Washroom is just down the hall. If you need anything at all, just holler.”

“Thanks,” Ardál said as he stepped into the room. It was small but it looked comfortable enough. The room was in keeping with the rest of the Alehouse, walls clad in wooden panels and the oak floors that spanned the entire building. The bed was covered in animal furs and there was a piece of leather hanging by the small window.

Ardál sighed with relief to find the contents of his backpack had indeed remained dry and he promptly got changed into something dry. He hung his wet clothes on the back of the chair making a mental note to ask about washing facilities. The two of them then made their way back down the stairs and found themselves a seat at the bar and Ardál was delighted to find that a bowl of stew had indeed been waiting for him alongside a pint of spiced ale.

“Let me know if you need any more, I know you adventurers are a hungry lot,” a female voice called out to him from behind him.

He turned his head to be met with a bright and warm smile upon a female’s face. Her vibrant eyes were golden as the morning sun and two ashen-grey horns curled from the sea of sage-green locks. Her skin, a deep rich shade of brown atop a curvy yet muscular frame. He concluded that this must have been Valeska, the cook Lonan had mentioned, and by the way she interacted with the patrons he wouldn’t be surprised to hear if she was the owner.

Ardál let out a soft chuckle, “yes, if it’s not too much trouble I’d love some of your famous sweet rolls.”

“Coming right up. I’m Valeska by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said as he stretched out his hand as a way of greeting, “I’m Ardál and this is Phelan,” he continued, as he gave Phelan a pet on the head.

She let out a warm smile, her eyes holding a spark of mischief as she said, “welcome to Wyrmwind.”

As she returned her attention to the bustle of the tavern she moved with practised ease, picking up empty tankards and plates, expertly balancing them.

Ardál relaxed his shoulders as he took a bite and had to hold back as he nearly let out a groan of delight, he hadn’t realised how much he needed a warm meal that he hadn’t prepared himself.

CHAPTER FOUR

-Ardál-

The late summer sun beamed down on him and sweat coated Ardál’s back as he worked. He had spent the better part of the past few days helping out where he could, doing odd jobs, mostly physical labour. He was good at that, having grown up on a homestead he had been used to hard work since the day he took his first steps. Besides, a bit of hard labour kept him in peak physical condition, which given his choice of life was always good. He’d made fast work of splitting the wood.

Ardál stripped down his cream-coloured linen shirt, using it to wipe off some of the sweat before he poured a pitcher of cold water over his face and shook his head not too un-similarly to how Phelan may have done in the same situation.

“Oh wow, that’s… that’s a lot more than I was expecting,” Valeska said, taking stock of the giant pile of chopped wood, although the slight smirk on her lips indicated she was talking about more than just winter stores.

“Margarete will be most grateful I’m sure, this will last her the better part of the winter,” she said, setting down a bottle of mead atop a large log.

“It’s no bother. Glad I could help.”

“You know, there’s a trail up the northern side of Mount Juniper that I think you might like. Great views over Wyrmwind if nothing else.”

“Thanks, yeah sounds like something I’d like,” he said, graciously picking up the bottle of mead and taking a swig as he rested himself on the chopping block. “What’s the story behind Wyrmwind anyways? Strange name.”

“Ah, it is isn't it, I thought the same when I first arrived here.”

“I had an inkling you weren’t from here originally, how long have you been here?”

“What gave it away,” she chuckled, waving her hand over herself, “and just over five years now, I came here with Ortolf seeking a new start,” she said.