Evander Smith-Talking with Dwarves Part the Fifth

“No, never. You ever meet a Half-Elf before?” asked Lilith.

“Aye. Years ago,” said the Dwarf.

“Like, five years ago?” asked Lilith.

“Longer than that lass.”

“Ten?”

“Be closer to fifty years ago.”

“Just how old are you?”

“I be gett’n into mah second scentuary.”

“Wha?”

“I heard something about a census,” said Rothus.

“He said second century,” said Evander.

“Evan, I didn’t know you spoke Dwarven,” said Lilith.

“It’s not Dwarven, it's bad drunken common. My father spoke it all the time in the forge,” said Evander.

“You be the son a smith lad?” asked the Dwarf.

“Yes,” said Evander.

“Well than Laddy, share a drink with me,” said Durn handing Evander a spare tankard.

“Evan, you're too young to drink,” accused Lilith.

“Hey, is it impolite to refuse a drink from a dwarf?” Evander whispered to Durn.

“Aye, deadly,” he said narrowing his eyes.

“Bottoms up!” said Evander taking a long swig. The drink, if it could be called one, burned all the way to his stomach.

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