A look of consternation came over Floku’s face as he watched the figure come up the muddy road. “What the scav is that?”
His neighbor, a burly man named Juhnos, followed Floku’s gaze. He narrowed his eyes. “Is that a halfling?”
“No…” Floku scratched his chin. “Too tall to be a halfling.”
“Well, it can’t be a gnome either. He doesn’t have seven fingers on each hand,” Juhnos reasoned.
“Aye, I see that, but what else could it be?” Floku asked.
“A dwarf?” Juhnos offered.
Floku rolled his eyes. “Idgit. Does it look like a dwarf?”
“Well…no…but…look at his armor. It’s made of bronze, it is, and look at that four-pointed star on his breastplate. I’m sure that’s the symbol for one of em’ stone gods.”
Floku shook his head in disbelief. “How can that be true? He has no beard.”
Juhnos shrugged. “I’m just telling you what I see.”
Floku hushed him. “Shh! He’s coming near.”
The man, whatever race he may have been, passed them by as they leaned on the fence that bordered Floku’s farm. His dark hair was shaved nearly to the scalp, and there was no hint of hair on his chin. He spared no glance to the two farmers. Floku saw in addition to a pack on his back, the man carried a handsome sword with a wide blade.
“Hail, stranger,” Juhnos said.
The armored man paid him no heed, his eyes staring straight ahead. He continued, trudging down the road, his metal boots slushing through the mud of the road. Once he was out of earshot, Juhnos looked at his friend. “I’m fairly certain that was a dwarf.”
Floku cocked his head in wonder. The possible dwarf was following the road to the crest of the hill, flanked on either side by a wooden fence. The man passed over the top of the hill then was gone.
“How peculiar,” Floku muttered under his breath. “I’ve never seen a beardless dwarf before. I wonder if he’s from the Casderack Hills?”
Juhnos shrugged and looked towards the sky, its gray clouds promising rain. “Who knows?”
***
Berda froze in shock. Walking past the window of her alchemist shop was one of them. He wore the armor of Kimalen, therefore he must have been a knight. Still, his bare face told a different story. Berda could see the townsfolk giving the beardless dwarf confused and curious glances. And she couldn’t blame them. Just looking at him made an angry bile rise to the back of her throat.
The female dwarf placed the bottle of steaming red liquid that she had been mixing next to a stack of parchment. She exited her shop, wiping her hands on her apron. With quick strides, she moved to the middle of the street to intercept the dwarf. He froze at her coming, but his eyes betrayed no surprise at her approach.
She spit in his face.
“Vow breaker,” she snarled.
The male dwarf wiped the saliva from his cheek with a gauntleted hand. His face showed no emotion.
“You disgust me,” she said.
“Of that I’m aware, me lass,” the male dwarf replied.
“And a knight of Kimalen. You should be stripped of your armor and be given over to the wolves of Nepdes.”
“Much worse should happen to me, Sister, I assure you.” The knight stepped around her. “But you do not need to know that. You know not even my name, but my naked face is enough reason to hate me. And I cannot blame you. Good day to you.”
Rage churned through Berda as she watched the stranger go, making his way through the buildings of the town, more wary stares of villagers following him. Only when she smelled smoke did she look through the window of her shop. The corner of the stack of parchment had caught fire from the steaming bottle. She cursed, rushing in to put out the flames, and she didn’t think of the beardless dwarf for the rest of the day.
***
It rained hard that evening, and the beardless dwarf knight of Kimalen sheltered under a small cliffside in the forest, where the rock kept away the wind and the leaves of the oaks shielded him from the deluge. He did not bother to make a fire, and the cold gnawed mercilessly at his face. He remembered how warm his face had been when he had had his beard. Black and sleek as the fur of a panther, he had worn it in many braids trailing down to his waist. He, like all male dwarves, had taken so much pride in his beard.
Until he was forced to cut it.
He found little sleep through the night, surrounded by darkness, cold, and rain. When he awoke, the rain had stopped, and he could see patches of stars in the black-clouded sky. He decided to set out. He was sure he would arrive at his destination by sunrise.
When he emerged from the trees a few hours later, the clouds had faded to gray and were melting into wisps before the oncoming approach of an orange-yellow sun. Amid the blooming dawn was a tall, stone tower that reached above the trees of the forest. A tremor of trepidation trickled through the dwarf at the sight of it, but once it passed, he continued forward.
He approached the door where there was a knocker in the shape of a unicorn’s head. He reached up and knocked thrice.
A moment passed. Then another. The dwarf’s heart beat unbearably fast. Part of him wanted to flee like a rabbit into the brush, but he restrained himself. Above all things, he had to do this.
Finally, the door opened. There stood a lovely blonde woman dressed in robes of blue. Kind eyes looked down on the knight, though they widened in surprise.
“Hello! Can I help you…Master Dwarf?”
“Teyla,” the knight whispered.
A flicker of recognition passed through the woman’s eyes. “Vornehm?”
The dwarven knight bowed his head. “Yes.”
The woman’s hand went to her lips. “I thought you died.”
Vornehm sighed, the burden of his heart more than he could bear. “I wish I had, Lady Bluewing.” He reached on his back and drew the sword that he had carried for miles and miles. He fell to one knee and held up the blade with both hands to the wizard. He lowered his eyes.
“I vowed to protect your father in the war, Lady Bluewing. And I failed. Miserably, irrevocably, I failed. And I made you into an orphan. I have borne my shame for these past twelve years, shaving my beard, hiding in the hills and away from my kin as an outcast, because I could not bear to face you. But now I come to you for the shame has overtaken my heart.” Vornehm choked on a sob. “I can no longer bear it. I ask for your forgiveness for breaking my vow, Lady Teyla. I am deeply sorry.”
“Vornnehm—” Teyla took the sword from his hands and laid it on the ground. She went to her knees, taking his smooth face in her hands. She was smiling. “I forgave you so long ago, my dear Uncle Vordie. I do not blame you for father’s death.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I’ve missed you so much.”
Vornehm looked at the lady wizard in disbelief. He could no longer help himself. He bowed his head and began to weep.
Teyla pulled him into an embrace and held him close. “I wish you had asked for forgiveness so much sooner, Vornehm…you look so much more handsome with your beard.”
Among his sobs, Vornehm was able to take in a deep breath.
He laughed, for the first time in a long time.
I've always wondered what it would take to make a dwarf shave his beard. Now I know.
Good job, David. It was a tale of wonder and woe.
This is quite a heartfelt little tale. While brief, it carries quite a bit of emotional weight and presents what I would consider a positive example of how one might subvert audience expectations without undermining the story. It's short and simple, but also worth reading.