Dopey's Tale

“I tell ya, wasn’t right how he defiled her. She was pure as…” the dwarf said, slamming his mug down atop the dingy inn counter. “How I hope she still sleeps soundly, and he buggers off to his castle.”

The hooded barman set down a fresh pint of ale, listening intently to the tale, but it was nearly time to shutter up.

“A bite, dwarf? Seems like you’ve been through the wringer. We got mutton, stew, apples–might even have a spot of cheese,” the barman said kindly.

“For hck Grumpy and Doc!” the dwarf mumbled. “Should’ve gone with them…should’ve gone…” The dwarf hung his head low.

“Were they Friends?” the barman asked, cleaning a flagon.

“Family. When hck we found what he did, they hck grabbed their picks, and hck marched right off after the bastard.”

“And then?”

“Never saw ‘em again. Us other dwarves? Cowards, I tell ya!”

The barman prepped two flagons, “Don’t be so hard on yourself, dwarf.”

“We’re hck cowards. Could’a turned him in…”

“What did you say your name was again?”

‘Hck Dopey.”

“Here, Dopey, this’s on me. It’s a wonderfully special brew,” the barman said. Another flagon of ale appeared, its tan head bubbling like a caldron.

Dopey drank deeply, his bloodshot eyes snapping wide, “Gods above, what delicacy is this!”

“Castle-brewed ale, the finest in all the forest. May we toast your companions? I'd like to know these heroes.”

“Ay, a fine idea. To Sneezy, Happy, Bashful, and Sleepy! Wherever ye may be! I hope you’re all sleeping safe and sound,” Dopey yelled with drunken bravado to the empty inn.

The barman smiled beneath his hood.

Silence followed.

“Well, bed calls. Thank you, friend. Didn’t catch your name,” Dopey said.

“Never been one for names. Here, for your troubles,” the barman said, tossing a parting gift to the dwarf. Despite his drunkenness, Dopey deftly caught the ripe red apple.

“A real prince charming, you are. Goodnight!” Dopey said, taking a bite and disappearing into the night.

Now alone, the barman lowered his red hood and ran his tired hand through his strong, black locks.

Oh dwarf, they would all slept soundly, had only you kept your drunken mouth shut.

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A/N:

A retelling/continuation written for Fucked Up Fairytales - An Unofficial Challenge by L.C. Schäfer. Word Count: 366. Details below:

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