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. Dispatching
more than fifteen of the hairy-hided, six-foot monstrosities
with blows to their red-skinned heads, Flint and Aylmar had
made their way through the last of five interconnected caves
to the hobgoblins' treasure chamber. There, atop a four-
foot-high pile of coins and glittering gems, the beautiful axe
gleamed like a beacon. Aylmar had snatched it up first while
Flint stuffed his pockets and pouches with other riches, then
the two had run from the lair before any more hobgoblins
appeared.
Many years later Aylmar, his heart already showing the
weakness that would soon force him to retire from the ad-
venturing life, presented the weapon to Flint on his
Fullbeard Day - the dwarven coming-of-age celebration.
Smirking, and using the teasing tone that he knew got Flint's
dander up, Aylmar had said, "Considering the girlish way
you fight, boy, you need this a lot more'n me!" That had
been more than forty years ago.
The dwarf remembered, with a touch of gruff sentimen-
tality, the times he had wielded that Tharkan Axe on his
travels. The magnificent weapon had gleamed, cutting a sil-
ver are around Flint in battle
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