The following is a short story I wrote for a Novel Writing class in December of 2009.
I've edited it a little, but overall it is basically unchanged from when I first completed the assignment.
The story is basically an event that took place in the younger years of Rim, the main character of
Warrior's Fury.
To Acquire Lodging
A harsh wind lifted the powdery snow from the ground and blew it across the wide slopes of the Tydoren Mountains. Clouds were rolling in from the south, bringing a promise of more snow.
Rimmegoan Dayor pulled his weather-cloak tighter around his barrel chest – tucking his hands under his arms to try and get some feeling back into them – and paused his weary trudging to look up at the path ahead. Through the puffing clouds of his breath, he could see the fire-lit windows of a small village only about a mile off, and from what he could see, it looked like the large building on the edge of the village was an inn.
“Hah!” he panted to himself. “Civilization.”
Picking up his pace, he arrived at the steps leading up to the inn around the same time tiny snowflakes began to float down from the gray sky.
Opening the double-doors, Rim gave a satisfied chuckle at the warm air that blasted into his face. Without pausing in his long powerful strides, he slammed the doors shut behind him and walked straight up to the counter.
An eight-foot tall Gandoran man with shoulder-length, silver hair stood behind the counter. Rim shrugged off his large kedom-skin bag and the haversack that was slung across his back, letting them drop to the floorboards at his feet with a dull ‘thud.’
“Got any empty rooms?” He asked with a grin, thumping his heavy hands onto the counter. “By the Power, I'd even settle for a place on the floor by that hearth if you'll give me a decent meal.”
“Do you have anything in the way of recompense?” The Gandoran's conceited tone and arrogant gaze instantly wiped the grin off of Rim's face.
Gandoran were notorious for their arrogance and Racial discrimination. It wasn't so bad in the kingdom of Vintule, but this deep into the Melyund Gandoran country 'common travelers' were rare enough that the attitude was still expressed openly at times.
Just my luck, Rim thought to himself as he patted at the small carrying pouch on his belt. When he found nothing there, he snatched up his haversack and slammed it on the counter in front of him. A whole month without a decently comfortable place to sleep and I get stuck with a Racist, conceited innkeeper. He yanked the thick, cloth sack open and rummaged around inside for anything that would be worth a night's lodging and a meal. But as he did so he remembered using the last of his hard currency in the previous inn he had visited.
Fine time to remember that significant little detail, Rim, he berated himself.
“Look,” he said to the innkeeper, placing his hands back on the counter. “I just spent the inset of winter getting through the Tydorens, all I want is a warm bed and some decent sustenance – even if it's just fresh bread. I'll stick around for a few days an. . . .”
Rim trailed off as the Gandoran shook his head and leaned forward.
“More time, means more food.” He stated coldly. “You don't have the currency or something to trade, Nanhew, you leave.”
Rim's irritation instantly turned to anger and he made no attempt to hide it in his narrow-eyed gaze.
Sure I got somethin' to trade, he thought as he stared into the lithe man's cold, sand-brown eyes. I'm pretty sure the pure klombortin dagger in my belt would get me lodging for the rest of the winter in this part of the continent. But at the moment I'm more inclined to stick the blade against your throat than use it as a bartering tool.
Instead of getting himself into trouble that he didn't feel like dealing with at the moment, Rim turned his venomous gaze on the few others in the room. There were about twenty of them, they were all Gandoran, and they were all watching the exchange between him and the innkeeper.
Most of them wore arrogant expressions that definitely put them on the innkeeper's side. The rest looked disappointed in the innkeeper's attitude, but disinclined to argue with him since this was his inn.
Anger beginning to simmer into something that would cause him to strike the arrogant Gandoran in the jaw with his heavy, callused hand, Rim hauled his bags back over his shoulder and spun around.
“All right, you t'hee'oukran hhalto, I'll get you your currency.” He spat as he stomped over to the double-doors and swung them wide open.
“Keep a room clean for me!” He barked over his shoulder, jumping down onto the snow-covered path and leaving the doors wide open to let the frigid, twilight air rush into the building.
