The far ends of the roads faded into the darkness of the night. The rain fell in unbroken waves, its curtains shimmering golden yellow in the lonely light of lanterns. Hundreds of tiny rivers ran in the gaps between the cobblestones towards the ditches by the road, winding more and more branches, like the mouth of a wide river that spreads out over the plain before reaching the sea. The water fell in torrents from the eaves, while below them, the signs of various shops creaked in the wind like rusty metal flags. The sky thundered. Flashes of bluish-white cast otherworldly shadows across the houses. A sky blacker than night was approaching the city, shrouding the landscape in darkness. The worst of the storm had not yet arrived.
There was not a soul on the streets. No one sane, unless it was unavoidable, went out of their house in such weather, and at this late hour of the day no decent man was likely to be traveling. Warm light shone through the windows of the inn into the windy night, painting pale islands on the damp stones of the street. The blurred shadows of human figures rippled across the opalescent glass panes, and occasionally the muffled sound of merry laughter broke the loud pounding of the rain.
At the bar was a young man, probably in his mid-twenties. He looked sadly ahead of him. The bartender was pouring a golden yellow drink from a keg with great care. Its full foam flowed invitingly down the side of the jug as he placed it in front of his guest.
- Thank you.
The sombre, gruff-voiced young man went back to his table and sank into its gloom. They used to sit here with his sibling, as was their custom. They were near the counter, at a pleasant distance from the fireplace, so as neither to be too cold nor too warm, and above their heads the wavering flames of a branched candlestick, screwed to the column, provided a cosy light. If anyone else had sat on their chairs while they were away, they soon found out on their arrival that they had not chosen well and went looking for another table. Mostly it was he who argued and his sibling who watched to make sure that the arguments between him and the other guest present did not get too heated. This was especially the case when more robust guests insisted on their own right, which was usually more assertive the more empty pints were clustered on the table in front of them. On such occasions, the barman helped to restore the precarious balance of the atmosphere in the inn. Although they were not a sophisticated pair, they certainly had taste and a flair for quick persuasion.
But the young man had been coming here alone for some time, and sat by himself. There were already several empty pints on the table, and their number was slowly but surely increasing. As time went on, the noise and merriment in the tavern grew. Occasionally, a guest would stop on his way to the counter, to say a friendly word to the gloomy figure at the dimly candlelit table, and then beckon to his own company, but he would only shake his head in response. Again, only a few sips remained in his tankard. With one large gulp he emptied it and placed it by the others. He rose and returned to the barman.
- Give me some of the usual rotgut. Not a cup but a jug.
- Don't do this, Jasu... Don't get so drunk. It won't help, neither Tom nor you, it'll only make it worse.
- It helps more than your wise advices - he scowled - Wanna pour the drink or throw me out?
Hobb shook his head. He took down one of the many bottles lined up on the shelf and began to fill a small flask with reddish drink. The pungent, alcoholic-flavoured vapour filled the air with a sense of stupor, and went through their heads like a slowly throbbing hangover.
Which was blown awake in an instant by a cold gust. The freezing wind blew out most of the candles, and with a loud whistle ran out the other door towards the backyard. A huge, dark figure stood in the doorway. As if the clouds themselves had been waiting for this moment, the landscape behind him flashed in white. A deep thunder ran through the sky. The giant had to bend down to enter under the crossbeam. The ground shook beneath his feet. Suddenly both doors were slammed shut by the draught, and the inn fell into silence. The dim light of the few candles left burning outlined a robust human figure. His shoulders were as broad and thick as a trunk of a tree. His body, stouter than the columns of dwarven halls, was covered with worn iron armour, thick animal furs and a grey cloak. The top of his helmet almost reached the ceiling, while from its sides protruded twisted horns so blood-curdling, as if they have been torn from a demon and hammered into it. A single cross-shaped slit ran across its visor, behind which was a darkness deeper than that which covered the sky. The giant started like a landslide towards the counter. The weight of his footsteps could be felt by those at nearby tables. The huge, rusty greatsword hanging from his belt scraped the floor with the deep, menacing growl of a nightmarish fairy-tale beast. Over his right shoulder hung a misshapen, soul-freezing sack, pulled taut with a heavy weight, its sides straining against something hard and lumpy. The sight of it suggested that no one wanted to know what was inside, or they themselves would meet the same fate as its contents. On his other shoulder, on a short strap, swung a cudgel, warning against sudden moves. The monstrosity came to a halt in front of the counter with two earth-shaking thuds. He towered over the counter as if a wall had been placed there, his shadow obscuring the petrified men behind him. The helmet turned towards the barman with unreal slowness, and when it came face to face with him, as if time had been cut off, it stopped abruptly. Hobb summoned all his strength not to show his horror, and with a benign countenance looked into the invisible face of the mountain.
Suddenly he felt sick. The room span around him, then it became blurry. His body refused to move and the bottle in his hand froze. His consciousness was trapped in the abyss behind the crevices of the helmet, and with a slow pulse became more and more vague. As the outside world gradually faded, the flickering candlelights disappeared in the thickening fog. The endless, deep emptiness that emanated from the void within the helmet drew him in, closing around him as if he were plunging into the bottomless ocean of night, where there was no knowing where the surface was, if there was one at all. A loud, rumbling sound waved through his aching head again and again. As if he had drunk too much, he felt dizzy and nauseous, and could hear the blood pulsing in his ears. The shape of the giant began to vibrate. It seemed to split in two, letting a shadow form in the middle, taking human form.
A wooden cup rolled off the counter. Reaching the ground, the knocking sound shook Hobb's head as if a wide metal bowl had been struck next to him. Reddish drink dripped to the floor from the counter beside the giant's hand. Hobb blinked rapidly a few times. He felt his consciousness clearing, and the sensations he had just felt left only a numbing hum. He spoke in the most gentle, peaceful, soothing voice he could muster.
- How may I serve you?
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