“Cog!” Bofur’s shout echoes down the stone corridor. “Kost and his human friend are here!” He turns to you and smiles. “It’s not often that a human visits the mountainhomes, and I’d be dishonoring my people if I didn’t show you some proper dwarven hospitality. See, I’ve been all over this world and the fact is that dwarven cooking is the best cooking you’ll have. And my cook is the best of the best.”

Kost laughs. “And your daughter would never forgive you if she missed the chance to finally meet a human.”

“Aye, it’s true,” Bofur admits. “My girl has always been fascinated by humans but never laid her eyes on one. She used to have a pair of human pants hung up like a tapestry on her wall because she couldn’t get over how damned long they were. Funny girl.”

Bofur leads you and Kost into the dining room, reminding you to duck your head as you step through the doorway. It is spartan, like every other dwarven home you’ve ever seen, but the size of the room makes it clear that Bofur is a dwarf of wealth. The three of you chat for a moment before the door opens and a young dwarven woman walks through.

Bofur’s daughter stands at about eye-level with your belt. She has a quintessentially dwarven figure, with generous hips and full bosoms. Her round green eyes are wide with interest as she regards you, her plump lips parted. She’s wearing a fine dress that flatters her curves without seeming at all indecent. Her hair is styled in an elaborate braided updo accented by a polished but simple bronze crown. Her face is pretty, but not intimidating–indeed she has a sweet and unpretentious look that is quite disarming.

“Arias, meet my daughter, Cog. Cog, this is the human Arias.”

“Pleased to meet you,” you say, nodding down to her.

Cog stares up at you awestruck, apparently unable to come up with anything to say. You struggle to keep a straight face, not wanting to make things any more uncomfortable. You've become used to being stared at by dwarves who have never seen a human before, but you've never seen a reaction quite this strong. Lucky for Cog, she is cute enough that the awkwardness is somehow charming. She is literally slack-jawed with wonder at you.

"Ah, she's at a loss for words." This is obviously more than a little embarrassing for her father, Bofur. He laughs, but his ears are starting to turn red. "Cog, don't be rude." He shakes his head and forces another laugh. "I don't know what's wrong with that girl. Come, let's sit. They'll be bringing out the roasted sweetcup caps shortly and we haven't even had the first course yet."

Sensing that Bofur is trying to draw attention away from his stupefied daughter, you and Kost quickly follow along. He approaches a keg on the table and slaps the side, and you remember that the first course in a traditional dwarven dinner is typically a flagon of heavy beer.

He takes a square stone cup and fills it with the beer. It is black as pitch, but the head is a pleasant toasted brown. You take a sip and find the taste pleasant, though the thickness and strength of the brew will certainly take some getting used to.

Bofur laughs and slaps the side of a keg on the table. "Isn't that the finest thing you've ever tasted?"

You can still feel Cog's eyes boring into you, but you do your part to salvage the jovial atmosphere. At first she just seemed cripplingly shy, but you’re starting to wonder if there is something seriously wrong with her. "It's excellent. Much heavier than human beer. We normally serve beer alongside the meal, but I can see why this is served as an appetizer. I feel like I'm drinking a loaf of bread."

Bofur laughs, but you can see the confusion and annoyance in his eyes as they flick over to his daughter, who is apparently still entranced. Kost stares at the floor, obviously just as puzzled as you.

“So what do you think of the mountainhomes?” Bofur asks.

“They’re beautiful,” you tell him. “The stonework is incredible. Even the streets are engraved. It’s truly astonishing. I’m still getting used to being the only human, though. I feel like a moose among cattle.”

“Aye, and you know he’s tall even for a human, Bofur,” Kost adds. “I’m not joking when I tell you I spotted him all the way across the market, and the market was truly packed that day.”

There's a brief silence as you all take a sip at the same time, which is broken when Cog finally speaks.

"You're so tall," she murmurs so quietly that you aren't sure if you were meant to hear it or not.

"Cog!" Her father snaps at her, but she doesn't seem to notice. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her. She’s normally very personable.” Cog’s eyes move up and down your body again, oblivious to the increasing tension in the room. She bites her lip and with her eyes locked on yours she steps closer to you until you have to step back to keep her forehead from touching your belly.

Sputtering, Bofur moves to usher Cog out of the room, his face completely red. At first she seems to comply, only vaguely aware of what is happening. But as they approach the door her expression suddenly changes. Her jaw sets and her brows furrow with determination. She jerks under her father's arm, lunging toward you. But Bofur’s reflexes are fast—he reacts almost instantly, wrapping his hands around Cog's waist and lifting her off of her feet.

She wriggles and screams as he carries her through the door. You and Kost sit stunned as her wild howls fade down the hallway. Kost drains the rest of his beer and pours another, shaking his head piteously. "Gods," he mutters. "This is no good. Poor girl." He sighs and looks up to you. "Poor you. I'm not sure how they'll resolve this."

"What in hell just happened?" You ask.

Kost takes a deep breath. "She's drukblok. Gotta be. Drukblok by a man—a human man. Gods damn."

Drukblok translates roughly to “square-struck,” a reference to the special beauty that perfect right angles hold to the dwarven eye. When a dwarf is drukblok, he will not take “no” for an answer. He does not simply desire the item–he needs it. He will not hesitate to kill his brother or throw his own life away for the chance of having that item for himself. That is why dwarves hide away their treasure and do not display anything that they aren’t willing to give away. Being drukblok is common in dwarven society, and a drukblok dwarf is typically considered entitled to the object of their obsession. That is why dwarf will give you the shirt off their back or the ring off your finger if you ask for it, but will never let you gaze upon those possessions that they truly value.

"Drukblok by me? Kost, what does that mean? I know about dwarves being drukblok by crafts or jewels, but I never heard of anybody being drukblok by another person."

"It's rare, but it does happen. What a shame—drukblok by an outsider. And her poor father, how embarrassing for him! To be consumed by fine craftsmanship is understandable, but by a person? And one twice her size? Well, it reflects poorly on her character, no doubt. The hens won't get tired of clucking about this one."

You drain your cup of dwarven stout and consider whether you ought to drain the rest of the keg.. "I don't understand how all this works. What does this mean for me?"

Kost shrugs and gives you a sympathetic smile. "Friend, I have no idea. A girl from a good family drukblok by a human? It doesn't happen. That’s a lot of shame for the family. Gods, they might have to put her down. You understand she won't stop until you belong to her, right? Whatever that may mean. If I were you I'd disappear, quick."