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‘I’m for it, my good sir,’ Hob replied, rolling up his sleeves. ‘One question, though. What exactly are we supposed to best them at?’
Derufin explained that they had cut up some downed logs at the edge of the Inn property and had split most of them for the Inn’s woodshed. There still some to be split and then those and what was left in the wagon out back of the Inn needed to be stacked away.
Hob had plenty of experience splitting firewood. Being the oldest son of the family that job had fallen to him. He sized up Benat and grinned. ‘You split ‘em. I’ll stack ‘em.’ He grinned at Derufin and Anyopa. Losers buy us a round of Dwarven spirits after supper. Agreed?!’
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Young she was and yet not so. The braids of her dark hair were touched by no frost, her white arms and clear face were flawless and smooth, and the light of stars was in her bright eyes, grey as a cloudless night . . .
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