Bathildis Ironstout

The grizzled Dwarven wanderer had anticipated the risk of his own death due to the nature of the wild adventure he had embarked upon.  Before every step in his quest, he double-checked to make sure that his affairs were in order should something happen.  The thought of his meticulous foresight despite such reckless abandon sickened Bathilids.  She seethed silently.  He could have thought first of his loved ones and avoided such a dangerous undertaking.  A stone formed in her throat as she considered it again.  He knew something was coming.  He could have said something... anything!  But he didn’t.  He knew anyone capable of rational thought would object.

Everyone who knew Alberich, knew of his insatiable wanderlust.  On top of this, Bathildis often caught glimpses of just how clever her father was.  A Dwarf of few words, he was much wiser than he ever let on.  There was always a glint in his eye whenever he was scheming something, and usually she could catch it to protest, but this time he just up and left like he always did.  Only this time, he didn’t make it back alive.

Bath scowled and sat upright, looking toward the closed iron door not three paces to her left.  She imagined it swinging haphazardly open as it always did when he returned home.  She imagined her grizzled father bursting in with that armor on his sturdy frame, and that massive knapsack he always carried slung over his shoulder - the stein, the lantern, the pickaxe, and rope dangling down, the bedroll and layer of road dust along with all of the bag’s unseen clanking contents - always a Khaz damned mystery.  The image quickly faded from her mind as sobering reality once again took hold.

With a heavy sigh Bathildis turned to face the bed again.  This time her eyes locked on the book.  The Clan Ironstout Brewing Journal was as close as her clan could come to having any sort of family heirloom.  The cover was engraved and painted with now faded gold-leaf runes.  It read “Clan Ironstout: Brewing Recipes and Knowledge by Delkas Ironstout and Baerra Firestein.”  Beneath that, in much clearer, newer script, it read, “Additions by Alberich Ironstout” and yet still below that, “and Bathildis Ironstout.”  Inside it’s dusty pages sat scribblings, formal writings, and sketches in all manner of hand.  Clearly a cooperative undertaking, it had contained a plethora of secrets.  It was considered holy to Clan Ironstout, and though she had contributed quite a bit to its contents, she was never it’s keeper.  That was until now.

Alberich had passed the torch - so to speak. He had left her clear instructions as to what to do with it.  Protect it with her life.  Don’t go anywhere without it.  Those were obvious.  What wasn’t so obvious were the instructions paired with the armor and stein that sat to either side of it.  Bath picked up the tome and thumbed through it, past the section with recipes and the journal entries from her Grandparents.  She read of Alberich’s ale-soaked adventures time and time again, but with the last entry blank - save for the solitary title line reading, “A Brew Worthy of Brewhalla”, she surmised she was missing an integral piece of the puzzle.

After a few moments of skimming, Bathildis resigned to exhaustion.  It crashed over her like a sudden wave.  She closed the book resolutely and set it gently back on the bed.  She headed toward the door and opened it pausing only for a stretch and a yawn.  There would be time for this tomorrow.

The common area that connected the apartment’s three identical bedrooms was as she had left it.  The dim hearth practically moaned for fuel.  Books lay strewn out everywhere, and trash was on every surface.  A thick coating of dust lined the edges of the domicile.  In her mourning, she had really let the place get out of hand, but at the moment she was so torn up that she could hardly care.

Her dog, a pudgy little pug, lay asleep on a bag of grain in the corner, snoring away.  The other family pet - a magical elemental made of living stout beer - was nowhere to be found.  This wasn’t uncommon; however, as it would often find some stein to sleep in, giving a fright to anyone mistaking the stein to be full of drinkable brew.

She crossed the room, careful not to wake her pup.  When she reached the door to her own room and opened it, she was in for a shock!  Bubble - the stout alemental was floating there looking up at her!  He quickly dove in, propelled by magical fizzing bubbles, embracing the brewer in a tight hug around knees.  Ok, that’s odd.  He’s never done THAT before.  Must be missing da' as much as th' rest of us…

Unsure what to do, she gently pat the semi rigid crest that made up Bubble’s head.

“Oi, Bathie!  I’ve missed ye lass!”

Bath’s eyes went wide and her jaw slackened in horror.  She stopped petting Bubble immediately, throwing her hands in the air.  Was exhaustion finally catching up to her?  She was delirious?  She could have sworn that she had heard her father’s voice.

“Oof, I ain’t usualleh used t’ this perspective!  Oi, tha’s offputtin’!  Ach... Um Bathie, take a peek a few degrees doon South, would ye?

Curious albeit terrified, she risked a downward glance.  Bubble was staring back at her, that blank faceless expression glued to her own.  Glowing amber eyes seemed to intensify for a moment, but then returned to their normal state - as normal as a living beer monster could get at any rate.

The glow intensified as he spoke again.  “There we go!  Now I can see yer loveleh, freckled face again!”  The alemental did not have a mouth, so Bathildis assumed it was speaking telepathically.  She let go of Bubble and nearly fell down as she scrambled backwards through the door frame!

A million emotions and thoughts passed through her mind as she attempted to make sense of what was happening.  She thought to flee, talk back, strike out, start writing a book on communication with the Alemental species… She clearly wasn’t thinking straight.  The Dwarven woman was all but paralyzed in the middle of the common-room despite having four directions she could run.

Bubble slowly propelled himself forward.  “Oi, sorry lass!  I just realized…”  A familiar grunt could be heard, though Bubble just hovered.  “It’s me!  It’s yer da’! … Alberich!”

Bath lost control of her body.  She sank to her knees and tears began to well up in her eyes.  I’ve lost my damned mind!  My parents are dead, and now I’m talking to beer!  They’ll have me in the feckin’ ward in a matter of minutes when they find out!  She began sobbing and laughing hysterically.

Bubble put out a hand and touched her shoulder.  “Bathie…”

Bath recoiled at the touch and clambered backwards on the flats of her palms, putting a few more feet between her and the alemental.

“I know how this looks, lass, but it’s true!  It’s yer da’!”  Bubble held both hands out to his sides, as if to say ‘ta da!’.

Bathildis shook her head.  “No, I dunnae want any trouble!  Please wha’e’er ye are, jus’ leave me alone!  We’ve been through enough!”

Bubble visibly sank at that.  “...Oi,” after a moment’s pause, “I’m sorry fer wha’ I had t’ do t’ ye an’ yer Grandda’.”  Bubble stopped hovering and just sort of plopped into a puddle on the stone floor, as if mimicking Bathildis’ sitting position.  “Lass, this is bigger than all of us.”

Bath shook her head.  “No!  Even if’n ye are who ye say, ye ain’t gettin’ off th’ hook tha’ easy.”  A fire suddenly ignited within her as anger returned.  She sat up-right, crossing her legs in a way that would allow her to scramble to her feet if need be.

“Aye, I deserve tha’...”  Bubble returned to hover again as the fizz reappeared beneath him.  “But hear me oot, lass.  This even pertains t’ ye.  It’s why I’m callin’ oot t’ ye.  WHICH by th’ way ain’t easy t’ do.  I ain’t sure how much longer I can keep th’ connection t’ Bubble ‘ere.”

Bath quirked a brow incredulously.  “Say wha’ now?  Ye ain’t Bubble?”

“Wha’?  Clean oot yer ears, girl!  I told ye it’s yer da’!”  Bubble plants his fists confidenty on his midsection.

Bathildis’ eyed Bubble skeptically as a hint of cautious curiosity flashed in her eyes.  “Prove it,” she finally resigned climbing slowly to her feet.  If’n he were gonna attack me, I guess it would’ve happened by now.  She started to show confidence again, crossing her arms stubbornly across her chest.

At the same time, Bubble’s shoulders sank again.  “Oi, how am I gonna d’ this?” he pondered aloud as the emotionless alemental scanned the room.  “Oi!” his eyes glowed brightly as the idea struck.  “Go get th’ book!  Th’ tome!”

Bath glanced over Bubble one last time, making sure he wasn’t up to anything.  Finally, fear aside, she beckoned him to follow her to Ablerich’s room.  As the two crossed the common area and back into the empty bedroom, Bubble left a haphazard trail of beer behind in his wake.  Pugpug continued to snooze peacefully.

Upon entering the room, Bubble darted in under Bathildis’ arm.  He looked over the bed and spoke without turning to face her, “Good!  Ye got it all.  Grand work ye lot! I knew I could trust ye!”  The alemental quickly darted to a nigh-empty desk against the wall and opened one of the drawers.  “In here, Bathie.”

Bath furrowed her brow, sighed, and entered the room.  “Ok, ok.  Hold yer rams.  This better be good.”  She pondered as she approached the desk.  She never snooped in it once so whatever lay inside was the key to Bubble’s - or her grief-strickened mind’s - wild claims.  She tentatively reached in and withdrew a stack of papers and three framed portraits.  A family portrait from several years back, a suggestive photo of a young Dwarven woman in skimpy clothing, and a photo of Alberich and his two brothers in their youth laid fanned out in Bath’s hands. She made a show of not allowing the alemental to see them.

Bubble prodded the drawer.  “Ok!  Ye seen those before?”

Bathildis shook her head.

Bubble slowly listed out, “Should be a portrait o’ me an’ m’ brothers, us as a family, an’ somethin’ special yer mum sent me on one o’ m’ trips.”

Bathildis hastily dropped the three portraits on the desk!  “EWWWW Da’!”

A small, drowned chortle escaped from Bubble.  “There, lass!  There’s yer proof!”

“Ach… Gross!  Have ye no shame?”

“D’ ye believe me now, Bathie?”  Bubble tilted his head.

The two stood in silence for several minutes before Bathildis finally nodded.  “Ok. I believe ye, but I still ain’t sure if’n I’m even awake right now…how is this possible?  Yer dead!”

"Ain't dead… ain't completely at any rate!  M' body is, sure, but I ain't reached m' final stop yet, either," Alberich chucked boisterously.  "Bah!  Anyhow, I'm wha' ye'd call an Alemental Laird now.  M' spirits been planted in some magical brew like ol' Bubble here, but… like th' biggun' o' all th' alementals.  I'll explain it all another time.  All ye need t' know is I call on ye like this from time t' time, s' long as ye keep Bubble 'round!"

"Tha's… amazin'!" Bath's momentary astonishment quickly gave way to sorrow, "Why'd ye wait this long t' contact me?"

"Still figurin' this all oot, m'self.  Ain't been made o' magic beer b'fore, lass!" Alberich chuckled through Bubble.

"Ok, but…" Bathildis interjected, but was promptly cut off.

"Bathie.." Alberich interrupted.  His tone was much more serious now. "I understand ye have questions. Khaz knows I want t' tell ye e'erthin', but I'm almost oot o' time.  Listen. This is important."

Bathildis frowned in silent resignation.  She took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly before giving a curt not.

Alberich continued, "Look inside m' armor, lass.  Have ye seen th' inscription inside?"

Bathildis slowly turned to face the bed.  She approached it with reverence.  It seemed to give off a warm glow as it reflected the room's lit sconces on it's ruddy surface.  She reached out and traced her fingertips across the rough surface of the breastplate.  Grabbing hold of the sides, she carefully picked it up and flipped it over, searching inside.  Bubbles eyes glowed in the reflection as Alberich watched in silence.

After about a minute of searching, she felt some scratches within.  "I - I think I found it." She carefully held it close to a light and read it to herself.  "Oi, these are jus' numbers!?"

"Aye," Alberich confirmed.  "Each sequence is a page in th' book!  It ain't a complicated code.  I know ye'll figure it oot. Consider this a gift from yer da', Bathie.  Another adventure fer ye an' yer friends!"

Bathildis glared daggers at Bubble, "Bah, why couldn't ye stay home?  Posh on yer adventures!  Ain't tha' what got ye killed?" She barked!

"Bath, ye cannae rot away in th' safety o' th' Modan yer whole life.  Ye cannae be afraid o’ all th' things the world has t' offer.  Look at all ye accomplished jus' a few years back!"

"S' ye came here t' lecture me?" she pouted defensively.

"Nae Bathildis.  Yer free t' decide what ye do with this… just remember tha' I love ye.  I want ye t' realize yer true potential is all."

Bathildis once again reached the verge of tears.  She stared at the armor for a moment.

Suddenly another familiar voice spoke up.  Bath's deceased friend Burly, a Dark Iron brewing prodigy taken at a very young age, could be heard shouting at some distance. "Alb!  Alberich!  Tell her t' stop bein' a ninny an' just go!"

Alberich chuckled forcing Bubble to gurgle in kind. "Oi, Burly says hi!"

Bathildis shook her head in further disbelief, "B-Burly!?!"

As suddenly as everything had happened, Bubbles eyes returned to normal.  He tilted his head, and started making high-pitched gurgling noises.

"Da'!?  Burly?!" Bath cried out, hugging Bubble tight.  Bubble cocked his head from one side to the other, hurled a stream of brew down Bath's shirt, then collapsed into a puddle and slinked away to disappear into Alberich's mug.  The lid clanged shut after him.

Bathildis snatched up the mug and tried to pry the lid off!  Nothing.  She shook it violently, but Bubble noisily protested within.