Hendra’s World • Book One • Part One
A Loud Clanging
Hendra looked at her reflection in the mirror and adjusted her beard. It was her favorite.
Long, red, thick, and wavy, it reached below her hips, and was topped with an outstanding mustache.
Held fast to the inside of her helm with three rows of 13 steel hooks, and a sturdy chin strap, it was snug, and solidly in place.
When she lowered her visor, Hendra looked and felt just like a Dwarfking. Strong. Handsome. Safe. Her own eyes peered back at her from behind the visor, burning bright with self confidence.
As a Maiden, of course, she was larger and stronger than any Dwarfman, even the most magnificent of her Kings, and her self confidence at arms was born, not from her resemblance to a man, but from the centuries of experience she had as a woman, fighting and winning with sword, spear, and shield. From under this helmet, from behind this beard.
Now fully armored, she took up her weapons, and allowed herself one last look in the mirror. She did make for a very dashing and sexy man. Dangerous. Violent. Ready to fight.
The reports from the border had been of a small army of Goblins. Easy work. She began to meditate on death…
A loud clanging interrupted Hendra’s thoughts.
Turning from her reflection, she saw Senhendra stoop down to pick up her helmet. A tight, curly red beard hung awkwardly from the jett metal helm, only half-attached. Hendra wasn’t overly fond of that particular beard.
“Do you need help?” She asked.
Senhen was young, but not inexperienced. Hendra did not worry about her in battle, nor harbor any doubts about her skills with spear, sword, and shield, but she couldn’t help being a mother… and well, she just… she just didn’t like that beard.
“Can’t you wear a different beard?”
“I’d rather not wear one at all, Maiter. May I have your permission to wade into battle beardless, with my breasts out, so that every Goblin I skewer can die knowing that a Maiden and not a Man put an end to his miserable life?”
Senhendra knocked her gloved fist on her matte black jett metal chestplate, which was featureless, save the badger’s head sigil of their house painted in red lacquer at the sternum. It made a solid thumping sound.
Hendra stared silently at her daughter, eyes bright red behind her black metal mask.
The younger Dwarfmaid glared back defiantly, then wavered, and lowered her head.
Still under her mother’s gaze, she quietly donned her helmet, finished fastening the cropped beard to the inside, and adjusted the chin-strap tight.
“Perhaps one day,” she said through her teeth, “when we have defeated all of these dreadful enemies of ours, we can let the world know that Dwarfmaids still exist.”
“Perhaps,” said Hendra.
“And then it’s tits out!” said Dinha, laughing.
Hendra’s sister, and her daughter, Sendinha, were visiting Hendra’s house, and had decided to join the excursion.
The spitting image of each other, Dinha the Bear and Sendi the Beewolf wore matching beards, helmets, and armor. When they were suited up completely, the only way to tell them apart was Sendi’s great size. She was the largest Dwarf Hendra had ever known or heard of, and was called Beewolf by her friends and family, while the foes of their House called her The Fist of The Mountain.
“I doubt we will ever exhaust the supply of enemies we have in this world,” said Hendra quietly. “Tell the Men we’re ready to move.”