The New Archmage (NaNoWriMo 2011 - Day 9)

It was clear that the gate guards were tall for Jotnar, but even so most were more than a quarter again as tall as Tom. The architecture reflected this, making the city an imposing place for a human. That isn't to say there were no other humans in Oesterin, but they were a small minority, less in number than Dwarves or Kobolds. Killburn led them through the busy streets and up numerous flights of stairs until they were on the fifth terrace, outside an inn called the Troll's Head.
'I've stayed here before.' He said. 'What it lacks in polish it makes up for in atmosphere.'
Fresh sawdust coated the flagstone floor, conjuring the smell of the forest. The bar was made from great swathes of oak, which had been polished until it gleamed. It was chest high for most of its length, but stepped down twice at one end to provide human and dwarf high access. The tables and chairs also catered for all species, though the rough finish was only polished by use. Every seat was taken and it was three deep at the bar. The noise reminded Tom of The Surprised Cow back home.
'Let's have the token lad.' Killburn leaned in to be heard.
Tom handed it over and watched as he goosed a Jotunn barmaid, who turned with a face like thunder until she saw it was Killburn when she smiled broadly. The conversation was short and she pointed at one of the doors off of the bar when shown the token. Killburn beaconed the rest of the group over as he went through the indicated door. When he shut it again, a great deal of the noise was cut out.
'Thank the gods for that.' Isabelle said, rubbing her ear.
'Like I said; atmosphere.' Killburn sat at the long, normal-height table that occupied most of the room. 'I can see this isn't the place everyone enjoys, so we have the use of this private room for tonight. She'll be through in a moment to take our orders.'
'Who is she?' Tom was curious.
'Just an old friend.' Killburn replied, a small smile on his lips.
'When did you last come to Oesterin?'
'Before you were born, lad.'
The barmaid came and took their order and, shortly thereafter, a feast of a meal was set before them. It seemed to Tom that Shae and her family ate more than anyone, but avoided the pork. A few drinks later, Tom was feeling much better about the whole trip - soon he would have his book and they could get back home to safety. That night, he dreamed he was flying over the Frostheims to Harrowden.