No, but couldn't all of this have been prologue? Just get to the tavern already.

A week later you crest the hill to see Bjor and his two equally muscled sons hard at work on your tavern. You had been out scouting the last two days for any signs of monsters or bandits as you doubt the paltry town guard would be capable of handling any real threat. Also, the sounds and smells of the 3 burly carpenters working all day on your home was making cogent thought impossible.

For now, the surrounding forests and low-mountain prairies seem like nothing more than quiet, peaceful wilderness. Certainly, quieter than here as you move to help Bjor hand planks to his two sons, busily hammering away at the roof. Short greetings are called out before you settle yourself halfway up the ladder to complete the chain. You chose to wear a particularly tight pair of rogues gear this morning and you notice a number of glances towards your shapely rear end, particularly from Bjor whose position is requiring him to look up and around your ass to hand you lumber.

You crack a sly grin as you watch him fidget, settling something in his trousers for a moment. Bjor and his two sons have been camping outside the tavern in a tent to be able to work without stop but tonight, Jor and Thorin are headed upriver to fish for a couple days. Which sounds like the perfect opportunity to sneak into the tent and test Bjor's resistance to a horny cat boy half his age.

Preparing for your future customers, you have been cooking a new recipe every day. Tonight's rabbit stew proved you could still hunt and garnered you some hearty pats on the back and a couple scritches behind the ears from Thorin and Jor. You purr loudly in response to their touches causing Bjor to fidget across the campfire before it stops. The four of you finish devouring the stew and the lads head off for the river as Bjor retires to his tent.