Sioraitriall: The Dwarf Merchant

Sioraitriall slowly came into view as the draw bridge was lowered. The dwarf merchant was waiting in the shadow of the lone pine tree that grew on the other side of the ravine. He had a horse with him, which was unusual since Sioraitriall usually traveled on foot. Master and horse crossed the drawbridge, causing it to bend ever so slightly beneath their weight.

A black chaperone was rolled up neatly over the dwarf’s head. Its tail had been wrapped several times around his neck for warmth. A loose coat made of blue velvet and lined with grey fur fell down to Sioraitriall's knees. His blond beard was divided into several braids tied together by metal hair clasps. Rings of gold flashed as Sioraitriall beamed a friendly smile and opened up his arms to greet his old friend.

“Kalahar, how you've you been?” asked the trader.

“I've been doing well,” Kalahar replied before shooting a suspiciously glance on the other side of the ravine.

“What is it?” the dwarf asked, following his friend’s gaze.

“I just thought the shadows appeared darker by that pine tree,” Kalahar muttered “But no matter. I’ll have it cut down tomorrow.”

“You never let down your guard, don’t you?” his friend joked as Kalahar hit the lever to close the draw bridge “I wonder why you insist on keeping this place a secret. Everyone in the valley already knows you live up here. They’ve even given you a nickname: the pale hermit.”