A Match of Monsters

Chapter Thirty-One

Elain's hand was cramping, her ink-stained fingers so stiff that she had lost the ability to feel in them.

Wrapped around her ankles, the kit gnawed quietly on his bone. The sound was near silent and steady, setting a monotonic rhythm that made it difficult for her to keep track of time. The only way that Elain was able to tell that it had passed was due to the sudden influx in customers.

The tables in the tavern's front room were rapidly filling, mostly with dwarves, but she could also see a few humans spread amongst them. She even saw an elf or two out of the corner of her eye, from where she could see over the swinging doors that separated the room from the kitchen.

In front of her, spread out across the table, lay fifteen neatly scribed menus. Every letter was ornate, and every image was immaculate.

Elain groaned as she arched her back and cricked her neck, feeling the stretch after spending half a day hunched over thick card written in a vernacular she'd not seen for years. The dwarven words were much harsher and more guttural than human ones, but were structured so similarly and used mostly the same alphabet. It was enough to confuse her tired mind.

She rubbed the heels of her palms – the only unmarked skin left – against her eyes. Rapid blinks that beat like a butterfly's wings obscured her vision as she tried to pull herself out of a trance; the repetitive work had been hypnotic to her conscious mind.

"Yer alright there, lass?"

Elain gave a small shriek as her throbbing eyes focussed on Adelhard, she hadn't even heard him approach. "What are you doing here!"

"There's no need to be so rude, lass. I'm just here ta ask you if yer ready to put yer knowledge of the menu to the test. Yer've been copying 'em for nigh on seven hours now."

"Oh, sorry," she could feel the blush spread across her cheeks. "I guess I am?"

Adelhard laughed, and she could feel her flush deepening in silent, embarrassed response. She ducked her head, and her gaze fell upon her handywork. There wasn't much of it, but she was proud all the same. Even though she'd only done a few sheets – a mere fifteen of them – their appearance was as high quality as she'd been able to make. Nine of them had been stacked neatly on top of each other, whilst the other six had been spread out and pinned down with small paperweights so that the fine, midnight blue and daffodil yellow inks might finish drying under the candle light.

Elain carefully reached over and grabbed her small pile off of the table, shuffling them with her hands as she turned back to Adelhard. "These ones are dry, what would you like me to do with them?"

"Put them to the test, lass. Yer ready to go out there, give 'em their menus an' take their orders."

"Oh." Elain could think of no coherent response. She'd believed that they would give her more training before sending her out...

And apparently those thoughts were displayed clearly upon her face. She was losing the self-control her mother had spent so long teaching her to attain. Adelhard's expression softened as he spoke to her again.

"It's the only way yer'll learn. It was how I was taught and it is how everyone else here has learned. But we'll start easy on yer; the three tables in the corner of Rowan's section are where the Tavern Mistress has assigned yer ta' start with. My niece will help with any questions."

Elain's head moved in a sharp up and down movement, the nod so quick that her vision spun for a second as she accepted the situation.

"Glad yer understand, now get!"