Confusticated
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- Apr 19, 2002
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The Plundered Pint
In a torch-lit chamber built roughly into the rock walls on the Eastern end of the Ash Mountains, two large goblins stacked barrels of ale behind a bar and argued.
"I don't care if they're high ranking Easterners and neither should you!" Said the fat one with a long crooked nose and a voice like grating boulders. "We run this tavern and there aint no one gonna come in here ordering us around. And if these wagonriders don't like it they can find someone else to do the dirty work. Now word is going back up North that we're the hard wokers. And when the time comes it'll be us picking the spoils and us in the best caves."
"You shut up Globdug!" The high-voiced skinny orc screetched back. "Its my guys that do all the working round here."
"Your guys... haha! Not you."
"You gizzard-brain! who do you think defeated those Northmen anyhow? And why do you think Gondor's driven back to the river? That aint because of our labours beyond the mountains and our diggings in these hills. That's the work of Wagoners and He knows it!"
Globdug beat his fist into a table and turned away. Just before he exited through a narrow passage on the other side of a long line of tables and out into the cold morning, he called back. "Sha! You put these goods in order, you know our place so well!"
"Just as well!" screamed Durbag "your maggotts would pinch us clean outta business without a constant whiping."
A couple goblins hobbled out into the tavern through a passage to the left of the bar, one of them carrying a large bag of breads, the other one an arm full of torches.
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