Dwarven Issues, Dwarven Vows.

Belle gritted her teeth as she struggled with the clasp of her bra. Doing tavern work was the only thing that kept her mind off the way Roland went limp on the floor. He caused a big scene. Some began to check their drinks to see if theirs were "spiked" as well. Luckily, Rose was able to convince them it was just a bad case of healing fatigue - a standard condition from healing magic.

Belle gave the bra another tug, to no avail. She never had this much trouble before, big tits or not. Hells, this was her biggest bra, handcrafted by Mrs.Lovebottom to help out with her...problem. But ever since he came…

She grumbled as she sucked in her gut, the clasp finally clicking into place, “Damn 'uman! So wat if 'he's a tad easy on de eyes?! Nighh isn’t da time ‘or petty feelings or feedin' chocolates ta each other or whatever lovebirds do!!! It’s da damn fountain fuckin with de atmosphere any-”

SNAP!

A harsh pop echoed through the room as Belle’s bra snapped in two, both front and back. Fluids dripped from her swollen nips as milk began to form on the vinyl wood, the substance no doubt leaking into the kitchen.

She huffed as she looked at what was left of her emergency bra. It has been getting worse. It used to be two milkings a day. Now it was double that, or she was going to have to deal with tits that put an Orc to shame.

Or worse, a minotaur.

She went into the nearby dresser and pulled out the makeshift loincloths before tying it around her chest in a knot. A tad uncomfortable, but it’ll have to do till she uses the milker again. Even then, that’ll have to wait.

She stepped out of the guest room as she walked further down the hall, before stopping. Rose had her head placed between the crack of the deluxe suite. It was nice of her to let Roland stay there when he passed out this morning, but the way she fanned her rosy red cheeks and did little hops on her hobbit feet gave more than the simple impression of house nursing.

She fought back a smirk as she slowly raised her foot high, before bringing it down with a thunderous thump!

“EEEEEEE!” Rose jumped far higher than she would care to admit, landing on her tush as her hands flailed in various directions, “PEEPING?! WHOSE PEEPING!! I WAS JUST CHECKING ON THE GUEST I SWEAR! HE TOOK A FALL-” Her freakout dulled as she Belle began to snort from laughing, hand clutching her sides as she fell to the floor.

The hobbit pouted as she stood up, dusting off her apron with shaky hands, “N-Not funny Belle! You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

Belle snorted as she tried to regain her composure, ”You looked ready ter faint already! Especially wi' de way yer were pantin' like a cat in heat! 'onestly, tart ya wa’ gonna swoon 'eadfirst inside!”

“Shhhh!!!” Rose puts a finger to her lips, “Are you trying to wake every patron in the Bar? Even him?”

This seemed to quell her as Rose’s laughter creased to a dead halt. She got up and walked over to look inside the room, He was...Still asleep. He was moaning and talking earlier. But that seemed to have passed, at least for now…

“With all the uh, muttering he was doing. It made me uneasy. Luckily I asked Sul to come by to check on him.”

“Bishop Sul ‘ame by?” Ask Belle as she softly shut the door. Not that she had anything against the old man. He was the one who sent healers to tend to Roland’s needs, but for the archbishop to come out of his way to check on a simple human boy felt...off.

“Yeah, He did some sort of hand-wavey healing thing and Roland seemed to relax a tad. So I’ll be sure to thank him with a big meal tomorrow,” Rose’s eyes widened as she snapped her fingers in Belle’s direction, “Speaking of tomorrow, you’re helping out at the tables for this year’s festival right? Mum tends to arrive late before rush hour.”

Belle nodded as she shrugged, “Of course I’ll 'elp oyt. Why ya even askin'? Besides, nade Mrs.Luv ter giv me another one av those stretchy cow bras. Auld wan ripped.”

“Oh uh right!” Rose smiled as she led Belle down the hall towards the back door, “I’ll see you tomorrow then! I’ll have your uniform ready! And the makeup!”

Belle looked back and gave the bubbly hob a deadpan look, “I’m there ter work, not ta git ogled at.”

The halfling stifled a giggle, “Mayhaps, but I sure you won’t mind being ogled by a certain someone…”

“Someone? What’re-” Belle words halted as a fire returned to her cheeks. “I don’t loike dat dam’ idjit Rose! De damn 'uman’s needs ta stay in bed anyhow!

“Hmm? Human? I never said a human.” Her smile grew mischievous as she waved goodbye, “I’ll be sure to tell him he was in your thoughts! See you, tomorrow Belle!”

The door slowly shut as the dwarf walked home, Well, stomped. She was pretty steamed, “Stupid cake for brains hobbit with her teasing and...UGGGH!” She clenched her fists as she felt the heat spread deeper through her body. Still, perhaps she could attempt to look decent. It was the festival after all, not a day next to the forge. She could try to brush her hair...put it in a ponytail maybe? Perhaps Roland would-

“AGGGGH!” She tugged and gripped at her dense locks as her stomps began to leave subtle cracks in the earth.It was probably for the best that Roland was staying at the Drunken Duck tonight. She felt like a tightly wounded ball of twine ready to snap. A good night’s rest would clear her head. Hopefully.

She stepped onto her doorstep and reached for the knob, only to find the door caved inward. She paused. The Forge’s embers flickered towards the night sky. The smell of fire and soot long passed. And the doorknob…

She withdrew her hand and spotted the thick red that stained her palm. Her heart hammered as she shoulder charged full **** inside, the wooden frame exploding on impact. Her eyes attempted to take in the sight before her. The cottage was a wreck. A mini warzone of blood, cave-ins and shattered glass, Savored by the lone victor that sat in his working stool.

Stollen’s hand gripped the bronze handle as blood dripped from his brow and his exposed chest. Said chest was wrapped in gauze and bandage. The linen looked already in need of being changed and cleaned, but what really caught her eye was the slab of killing steel that rested on his side, WarEnder. She had only seen it twice in her lifetime: Once when she was snooping around in storage and scarred her hand on the serrated edge, another when robbers can in to loot the forge. The latter being far bloodier.

Stollen placed WarEnder to the side of his working table before combing his fingers through his hair.“You’re home early.”

She gave a slow nod as she stepped over what looked like a severed finger, How...'ow many were dare dis time?”

The old man sighed as he stood up, stretching his slashed arm. The sting felt like hot glass pressed against his tendons.“Six I believe. Finally sent assassins, rather than the standard bruisers." He clutched his side, blood seeping from his lower chest as well, “I take it that Roland finally succumbed to healing fatigue? Was wondering when it would take its toll.”

Belle’s eyes widened, before slowly clenching her teeth, “You knew yer man wasn't ready ta walk oyt an' aboyt?! Wat de fuk pa?! He could’ve-”

“Language.”

She stopped as the old man took a deep breath before continuing, “He is better in Roselle’s care then ours. She doesn’t know it, but she has the blood of fighters in her.”

Uncertainty took hold of the redhead as she folded her arms, “Uh, we’re talkin aboyt de same Rose right? Clumsy as al' 'ell. cried durin' da Redstone Stage Play? Softa than a blanket av puppies?”

He nodded as he felt around under the table, “Yes her. She’ll be ready. She has to be. Same goes for you.” Stollen hands stopped and pried off the loose plywood. He relaxed a bit as he saw it, and pulled out a satchel, along with a chisel and...hammer. He noticed her take a step back, sighing as he pointed at the ground in front of him, “Rune...It’s...It’s time for you to carry our name.”

Belle looked at the chisel and hammer, Runes has been etched in each, dwarven of course, not like the tools that he used for work, They had an unsettling aura to them, “Carry our name? Uuuh, wha de 'ells ya talkin' aboyt? I don’t 'don’t tink dis is de time-”

A thud echoed through the cottage as Stollen slammed his battleaxe downward. It felt like a mini earthquake. “Nothing should weigh that much.” Belle thought, yet the old man carried it like a paperweight,“This isn't the time for any of that sass either Rune! There…There isn't much time at all. Certainly none for me,” He pulled out a chisel and stone. At least, she thought it was a stone, It looked more like a ruby, fat and round, without a speck of impurity, “Now sit, This must be done.”

Belle fought a gulp as she knelt down with her father behind her. She flinched as she heard him rake the chisel against the ruby, no doubt sharpening the tip to a fine edge,“...Bellerune, it is my honor that I pass my name upon you. To carry it with a pride that would shame even the gods...”

CRACK!

She hissed as she felt hot iron scar her skin. It felt like fire incarnate, As if he let it bake and mold in the sun's themselves, “Bellerune, it is my duty to pass down a legacy that was born from the anvil of creation. Birthed in the purest of fires.”

CRACK!!

He withdrew the chisel slightly before hammering it deep into her thick flesh. There was no hiding the pain now, It felt like razors dipped in liquid pain. A righteous blaze that coated her back like liquid glass. Stollen gave a deep sigh but didn’t stop. Simply moving the chisel downward towards her lower back, “Bellerune, it is with woe that you must carry our sins. Sins that outweigh the mountains. Sins that have broken the will of many, and restored hope to many more.”

CRACK!!!

There was no hiding the pain as she howled. Her insides were on fire. An undying flame that seemed to bear the fury of thousands, and the will of millions.

She relaxed slightly as she heard him set the chisel and hammer down, before feeling his hand on her back. She felt something thick begin to ooze from his palm. He gripped her shoulder tightly, allowing his blood to roll down his handiwork,“...Bellerune it is with love that I pass my pain onto you, and the strength it’ll bring you…The strength that it will bring you will overcome.”

She felt the blood touch the scars. The pain subsided as the wounds began to close, Bellerune, It is through love that your wounds will heal, but the fire will forever burn…” He sighed as he curled his hands, eyes closed, “Bellrune, I pray the fires won’t consume you.”

“Fires? Wha-” she stopped mid-sentence as she vomited soot and ash. Embers and smoke pilfered from her nose as she felt her hair sizzled above her scalp, she clutched her sides, the burning returning in full **** as her skin turned beet red, She curled herself into a ball, the wood around her catching flame as her body heat rose to temps nigh impossible.

Stollen fought back tears as he watched her writhe and squirm. He knew the pain wouldn't kill her, but to see her like this was far worse than the Second Blood War. It felt wrong, no matter how right it was, but it had to be done….It had to be.

He kept telling himself this as she tried to scream, only for embers to spew from her throat.

"Bless the forge of creation..."