A Yearly Bath Makes A Happy Dwarf!


The Grey Guard taking a dip.The words are immediately followed by a rather large tankard of beer, still half full, flying through the room. Winagrim, in spite of being thirsty, by no means willing to bring it back to earth, quickly throws himself out of the way.

-But Sir! begs Thradin from behind a chair. -It'll be good for you! It'll be good for the KIN!

-I know perfectly well what is, or is not, GOOD fer me! A BATH, sure as a dwarf's beard on a sterday morning, is NOT! hissed Grumbul before returning his stare to the wall. With folded arms and chin raised just a little bit too high he looks very much like a sulky little boy, -But it isn't bad for you!a fact that none of the officers present ever will utter loudly.

At this point Tilda, that always was smarter than the others, decides it is time to act.

-It's really a fiest, the beach is just the location. Bathing is not mandatory. There will be food and beer, plenty of beer, she says with a tricky little smile over her face.

The reaction is immediate.

 -Beer?! Now why didn't ye just say so? Of course I'll come!

Thus Winagrim a few days later finds himself standing in knee deep water trying to convince his fat dwarf leader that a swim isn't bad for the health.

Even dwarves can swim, at least when they have to.-Look at all the others swimming! Doesn't it look funny? he says in a slightly desperate voice.

-Funny? It looks like they are drowning, all that splattering about, replies Grumbul suspiciously. -Can't ye hear them screaming?!

-But Grumbul, they are LAUGHING! Winagrim almost yells at his stubborn leader.

Grumbul, still not convinced, scratches his beard and stares hard at the other grey guards swimming in the river.

-I am NOT so sure!

-Oh, it feels like ale!At this point Thradin decides that it's time to ligthen the party up a bit with some of his own, accourding to himself, very well-composed songs. From a big bag he hauls a slightly out of tune lute and starts playing a brand new composition called "Ode to a blue cuckoo".

Having evolved quite much musically lately, Thradin, that used to be considered traditionalist, now is closer to the genre somewhat too experimental. The song therefore takes off with a never before heard chord, consisiting of what must be way too many notes at once.

Well-trained and experienced as any dwarf ever was, Grumbul's reflexes reacts instantly to the sudden noise, bringing him up and away from the source. Storytelling at the fire.Within a split-second he finds himself facing Thradin from a position two meters out in the river.

Surprise isn't a word big enough to describe any of the three.

After a while the expression on Grumbul's face turns into something else, something looking awfully lot like satisfaction...

-Oooh, this water... It feels like... ALE! he exclaims with a broad smile on his lips.

At this Winagrim can't do anything but giggle madly at the whole situation. Soon Thradin and the rest the guards join him in a warm laughter. Laughing louder than anyone else is Grumbul. He finally, whether he wanted it or not, got his yearly bath.

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