Defending Toadstool Tavern

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. But then again, there hadn’t always been humans either.

​‘How I miss those days,’ Sorval thought as he watched the unfolding battle below. He sighed for the hundredth time this year; would the silly creatures ever learn?

Out on the field before him, the sun painted the sky blue and the leaves a bright blood-red. It was late autumn and the nip of frost had just barely begun to bite, unlike the creature crouched but a hundred feet from Sorval’s log. The dragon was huge, although right now its body was a bit bunched up, like a lion about to pounce. Its attention was focused on a figure on the opposite side of the field, wrapped head to toe in steel plate, looking every bit to Sorval like a walking tin can.

‘Idiot,’ Sorval thought, 'Metal doesn’t stop fire.’

The knight let out a quaking battle cry and snapped his visor shut, causing the plume on his helmet to quiver, which was most likely what he was doing underneath all that armor. He raised his spear, the haft slightly bent, and charged, trying desperately to reach the creature before it could take a breath.

The dragon, for his part, just grinned, revealing several rows of very large teeth. It scrunched up its face like it was about to sneeze.

‘Bless you,’ Sorval thought with a wince.

A blast of fiery breath flew from the dragons’ mouth, scorching the entire field in a blaze of red and gold. The knight yelped and dove behind a large rock moments before the fire could thoroughly cook him. His spear was flung aside, catching fire along with the loose leaves that some trees had discarded a month prior. Sorval felt the heat and wrinkled his nose at the smell of the smoke.

By the mushrooms, how he hated dragons.

It wasn’t that he hated them individually, but rather collectively. As a general rule, they tended to make a mess of things. From dropping scales from the sky to leaving fields in cinders, they were just bad news. Especially for aspiring restaurant owners.

Sorval glanced glumly around his tavern; the toadstool tables were empty and the birchbark mugs were all full of ale long gone cold. It had been shaping up to be such a nice day too! Sorval had been brewing his own special brand of tarrow tea (he’d picked the leaves that morning) to serve to the breakfast crowd when the beast had landed, scattering leaves and customers alike with a single whoosh it’s large, bat-like wings.

Nobody would be coming by today, not after that debacle outside.

A screech pulled his attention away from the empty tavern. He watched as the human scamper to another rock just as the dragon leapt onto the one he’d been hiding behind. Sorval winced as the stone was flung away, landing with a loud crash but ten feet from his tavern.

‘And who has to clean up this big mess, when they’re all done?’ Sorval thought indignantly, picking up a plate and beginning to polish it. It was bad enough that the dragon infestation had been lowering property values and driving away business, but as if to add insult to injury, the mayor had declared recently that the valley township could no longer afford to provide “sanitation services.” Effective Tuesday last week, if a dragon made a mess of things, it was up to the denizens of that district to take care of it.

‘Fine leadership there, your mayorship,’ Sorval thought, ‘You’re definitely getting my vote at this year’s Butter Ball!’ He eyed the scene outside his log, sniffing in distaste. The dragon had completely charred the poppy fields and was now making short work of the fine dirt underneath, leaving huge gouge marks as it loped after the human, who was panting and crying at this point. The dragon grinned; it was toying with the man the way a cat does a mouse.

Ugh, Sorval though, Get it over already.

“Sorval,” a cantankerous voice spoke up from behind him, “What in the name of roots and dirt is going on out there? I can’t sleep a wink!”

Sorval sighed; it had been too much to hope that Hildebrandt would remain asleep, as any good gnomish woman should during the day. He turned to his wife and tried his best to plaster a grin across his face.

“Hello, my darling buttercup,” he said, you’re looking lovely today.”

She of course, looked anything but lovely, but Sorval wasn’t about to tell Hilde that. She stood at the entrance to the cellar, hair matted with dirt and large calloused hands on her oversized hips, scowling at him with a look that could turn a troll to stone.

“And you look like you got hit by a brick.” She responded, voice like gargled gravel. “Where are the customers?”

“They were driven away by your beauty my dear. What else could explain their absence?”

“Your smell.” Hilde sniffed. “Have you been bathing again?”

“Now look here Hilde—”

“You have! Silly old fool. What is that racket?”

“If you’re allowed to roam around during the day, darling, then surely I should be allowed to—”

“By the mushrooms, it’s that dragon again, isn’t it? The one from last month! You told me you would take care of it Sorval!”

Sorval sighed, something he did a lot when talking with Hilde.

“Buttercup, we’ve been over this,” Sorval began, feeling like a frayed sock, “I told you that we would look into taking care of it. Which means that we would get someone else to take care of it!”

“And have you done that yet?” Hilde responded, crossing her oversized arms. Outside, the human was whimpering, which only further served to stretch Sorval’s nerves.

“I’m going to darling, I just—”

“Oh? Is that so? Just like you’re going to fix the leaky taproot? The one that’s been dripping in our pantry for the past six moons?”

“Now that’s not fair honey dew-drop, taproots take time to grow.”

“Or perhaps like how you’re going to talk to our neighbors, the rabbits, about their breeding habits?”

“They’re customers honey! We want them to have more mouths to feed, remember?”

“And what about my new toadstool table! You’ve been promising for months to get me one!”

“Hilde, sweetheart, you know it’s not that simple.”

“What I know, Sorval Sweetheart, is that I can’t sleep! Why? Because some big bumbling lizard is flying around our home, AGAIN, making an awful amount of noise at this ungodly hour!”

The knight screamed as the dragon smacked him with its tail, sending him flying into a tree near the log. A cup fell from the bar and shattered, making Sorval wince. He knelt behind the bar to get a broom.

“Sorval!” Hilde exclaimed.

“What Hilde?” Sorval exclaimed, “What?”

“I told you that I can’t sleep!”

Well, what do you expect me to do about it?” Sorval huffed, emerging from the bar to sweep up the shards, “I’m busy, you know, with all of these customers we have.”

Hilde just raised an eyebrow. Sorval ignored her, taking time to sweep all the little crystal slivers into his oakleaf dustpan. Maybe if he took long enough, she would go away.

“Can’t you do something about it?” She asked.

“Hilde, that’s a dragon outside! Remember? Large, ferocious, with sharp teeth? It’s not a mole or a badger or even a troll. It’s a DRAGON!”

As if it had heard itself being discussed, the dragon landed nearby, the wind from its wings knocking over one of the old toadstool tables. The human began crying now, much to Sorval’s irritation. Couldn’t the creature tell Sorval was having a marital upset in here? He heard the dragon lick its lips, no doubt in anticipation of eating the knight.

‘And good riddance too,’ Sorval thought, ‘Maybe the customers will come back after.’

“Sanctus would have done something.” Hilde said, halfway under her breath.

“Oh by the Mushrooms,” Sorval said, rolling his eyes back far enough to see inside his skull, “Here we go again with your talk about Sanctus.”

“He was so big and strong...” Hilde said, her eyes getting a faraway look, “So capable.”

“Also as broke as this dish,” Sorval grumbled, “Which is why you married me.”

“He could have made the dragon go away when I asked. If only he were here...”

“Oh for Stone’s sake. You know what? Fine. FINE!” Sorval said, throwing his hands in the air. “You want me to do something about the dragon? Alright, I will. But if I get eaten, you know who’s fault it is? It’s yours. Yours Hilde! Who will take care of you when I’m gone?”

Hilde wasn’t even listening, no doubt daydreaming about Sanctus something or other now. Ungrateful woman! Sorval bent back down below the bar, banging acorn shells together as loudly as he could while he searched for the stone. Outside, the human started to sob, which elicited a chuckle from the dragon.

“I love the smell of fear,” It rumbled. “It makes my meals so much more delicious.”

‘Oh just get it over with,’ Sorval thought cantankerously as he continued his search. ‘Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to play with your food?’

“Please,” the human sobbed, “I… I have a family.”

‘Me too unfortunately,’ Sorval thought with a smile. Where was that sun-blasted rock?

“Which do you prefer eaten first human? Arms or legs? I’ll let you pick If it would make you feel better.”

The human moaned in response.

“Sorval,” Hilde said, “Please hurry up. You know I hate when they scream.”

There. Sorval found it, glowing with its mother of pearl iridescence. He hefted the soul stone up, feeling its familiar weight. The treaty’s terms were clear; the dragon wouldn’t eat you so long as you held the stone and had a good reason for talking to him. That, and you had to use the proper titles, things like ‘your lordship,’ ‘your scaliness,’ and ‘supreme master of sky and earth.’

Sorval huffed; dragons could be so vain.

“Cat got your tongue?” The dragon chuckled again, breath rank with sulfur and rotting meat, “Or perhaps you simply swallowed it, as I’m going to do to you.”

“I won’t beg,” The human said, mostly to himself and beginning to hyperventilate, “I won’t beg, Iwon’tbegIwon’tbegIwon’t—”

The dragon ripped off the human’s arm, eliciting a blood-curdling scream from the knight.

“Sorval!” Hilde yelled. “Will you for once in your fungus forsaken life go out there and—”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Sorval huffed, hefting the stone and stepping out from behind the bar. Ungrateful woman. And after all he did for her! Outside, the human continued to scream bloody murder, which was making a mess of Sorval’s nerves. Didn’t he have the decency to just whimper? The sound made Sorval want to curl his toes. He took a deep breath to calm himself, then stepped outside his log.

“Excuse me your lordship,” he said as loudly as he could, “Might I have a word?