(1938-02-08) The Werewolf and the Half-Giant
Details for The Werewolf and the Half-Giant
Summary: Raff and Berg meet for the first time.
Date: February 8, 1938
Location: Leaky Cauldron
Related:
Characters
Raff

Sometimes one just needs Cauldron food. This seems to be one of those nights. Luckily the cauldron is mostly empty at the moment and he's able to slip in with a hood over his head, presumably for the cold. He finds the darkest table and slides into it, looking to the board for the specials.

The mostly empty Cauldron is about to be a lot more full. The rafters shake with a series of heavy thuds as massive feet tromp down the stairs. Soon, the source of the din appears — an enormous man, nearly twice the height of other men. He ducks underneath a rafter beam that looks newer than the others, giving it a pat. Moving to a spot near Raff, the half-giant pulls one bench up along another to provide his sizable posterior a reasonable seat. Still, the benches bow and sag nearly to the floor when he sits. He folds his meaty hands before him and wait patiently for service, glancing around and giving a broad, friendly smile to the few other occupants.

Raff just blinks at the rather large man that comes into the cauldron. He does stare at the man's back for quite a long time before he is unable to not mutter, "And people are afraid of me." To which he gives a wide eyed shake of his head and a chuckle and looks back to his table. After all, wenches are hard to come by for a werewolf.

Indeed, there are a few wary glances toward the mountain of a man, though the serving staff seems familiar with him. Familiar enough that they are literally wheeling out a small barrel of something on a cart for him.

Berg glances over to Raff, picking up on the muttered words. "Why're people afraid o' you, mate? You an 'ardened criminal or sumfin'?"

Raff gives an easy smile, "Werewolf." He speaks and gives a flutter of a wave.

Berg's thick brow goes up in surprise. "No foolin'? Don' look much like a werewolf. I 'eard werewolfs was fuzzy…one big eyebrow, 'air on the palms, an' whatnot."

Raff holds up both his palms to show them free of fur. "Only on the full moon and I am locked up then."

Berg frowns. "That's terrible. Doesn't seem right, lockin' up a man like that."

Raff chuckles, "Oh, no. They should. I'm not in my right mind that time of the month. Much like some women I know." He beams.

Berg bellows out a booming laugh, causing the wenches (plural) to flinch as they heave his keg of ale onto the table. He gives them a broad smile and a grateful nod. He follows that with another nod to Raff. "I'm Berg. Wot's yer name?"

"Raff." As he looks to that keg of ale and sighs softly since the wenches haven't really even looked at him. "Wish Elly was here. She'd serve me."

Berg furrows his brow in confusion, his lips hanging partially open. He glances to the wenches, then back to Raff. Then a light goes on in his head. "Oy…lady. Need anuvver for my friend 'ere. Smaller, though." He pats the large drink before him. "You can sit 'ere if you like, Raff. A man shouldn' drink alone."

Raff chuckles a bit as the man gets it. The wenches look to Raff as if he ws covered in boils and then back to Berg, "Him? You don't want him. He will give you the curse!" He comment and Raff just points to them and shrugs, "See, mate. The life of one like me."

Berg frowns, but doesn't argue. Instead, he reaches to a recently abandoned table, taking up an empty tankard and dunking it into his keg. Hygiene, apparently, is not high on his list of priorities. He sets it across from him, and gestures. "'At's yers, mate. I know wot it's like. Fink I got it easy? Come here 'cause most places don' serve me neever."

Raff shrugs his shoulders and looks to the offered tankard, "Who am I to refuse a man of your stature." He chuckles a little bit and reaches out to take the tankard. He lifts it to the man, "It's funny, I can get anything I want in the muggle world. A toast." And then drinks some out of it. If the curse didn't kill him… This surely won't,

Berg smirks. It's an almost comical expression, the way his face stretches like rubber. "See? There you got me beat. I look like this alla time. Wizards 'n' Muggles bofe see wot I am. Cheers, mate." He lifts his keg, taking a heavy quaff that would fill a normal man to bursting.

Raff watches as the half giant slugs down more beer than he could drink in a week. "You are a substantial fellow. I'd hate to make you angry." As he drinks his own Raff size serving.

Berg wips his mouth on his sleeve, clearing away foam. "I don' like gettin' angry. When I get mad, people get 'urt." He shakes his head, frowning. "Then I'm jus' wot everyone says I am."

Raff looks to the large man and nods his head, "Thing is… When I get angry the whole world thinks that people get hurt. I know how you feel. Truly." he smiles a bit, "Never thought I would have so much in common with someone like you. I'm sorry the world treats you like that when you don't deserve it."

"You an' me bofe, mate." Berg chuckles with sudden amusement. "Heh…a werewolf an' an 'alf-giant 'avin' drinks. They'll all be runnin' scared now." Indeed, the pair seems to have cleared out the pub.

Raff looks about and chuckles a bit, "Mick will be mad." He states and looks towards the kitchen.

Berg waves it off. "Nah…only if we actually did scare everyone…off…" Berg trails off as he looks around and realizes that they did. "Oh."

Raff gives a bit of a laugh and lifts his tankard to the man, "To scaring everyone off, even the staff." As he points toward the kitchen. "Going to be hard to get dinner."

Berg sighs, and resigns himself, lifting his drink for another quaff. "Weren't too many folks in anyhow. S'pose it ain't so bad…I hope. Oy…wot you do fer a livin', Raff?"

"Research. About werewolves. For the ministry, and admittedly about myself. I'd like to find a way to let people know that we are not going to harm them unless it's the full moon… It's hard to do though." He sighs a bit and drinks, "A lot think just sitting close to me like you are doing will spread it to them."

Berg shrugs. "I figger most curses bounce offa me. Don' see why yers'd be any diff'rent." Clearly, Berg doesn't know much about the curse's power, but then again, when is the last time anyone heard of a half-giant werewolf?

Raff chuckles, "Then we shall be fine friends indeed." He looks towards the kitchen, "I could try and sneak back there and get us some grub…"

Berg gives a warning shake of his head. "Don' do it. I seen wot 'appens when thems wot ain't s'posed to be there go in the kitchen. Miss Dodderidge got a real nasty spell. Pots an' pans an' knives come a-flyin'."

Raff lifts a brow to this and settles back down into his seat, "Maybe not, then." He gives a small laugh.

Berg chuckles, a thick, heavy sound that rumbles in his chest. "Even wifout 'er spell, I wouldn' mess wif Miss Dodderidge. She's a scary woman. She whapped my 'and once wif a wood spoon. It 'urt!"

Raff cannot help but laugh a bit, "You speaking of Elly?" He asks.

Berg blinks. "Wot? Naw…not Elly. I mean Miss…er…MISSUS Dodderidge. Her mum. Whoops. Don' tell Elly I mixed 'at up, 'kay?" He scratches his thick sideburn, grimacing abashedly.

Raff laughs. "I was pretty sure you didn't mean Elly. I don't think she'd do that. She's kind to me and makes sure I have food much tpo the dismay of her father."

"Oy, Ol' Mick. Aye, he's a tough one." Berg nods deeply. "Only man 'oo can 'andle Missus Dodderidge, I reckon. I fink they only put up wif me cuz I can fix fings. Course…sometimes it's cuz I break 'em." His eyes go again to that rafter that sits just at his head level when he's stepping off of the stairs.

Raff look up to the rafter, "Break that? With your head?" Raff asks and chuckles a bit, "Remind me to walk in front of you."

Berg winces. "A few times…aye." He rubs his forehead. "It's dark right there. Always forget it's there. But I fix it right up."

Raff rubs at his own head, "How bad does it hurt? I mean, you have a formidable head."

Berg shrugs. "Not so bad. I jus' hate causin' trouble fer the Cauldron. Rafter's broke, then I gotta make a ruckus fixin' it. Them Dodderidges is already good enough fer puttin' me up here. I know Elly pays for them nights I can't afford. She finks I dunno, but I do."

Raff gives a little nod, "She takes care of the world, she does." He lifts his tankard, "To Elly!"

Berg hefts his keg, sloshing more than a little ale onto the table. "TO ELLY!" He booms, earning a frightened look from the kitchen. Glug, glug, glug…he downs a half gallon of ale.

Raff chuckles a little at the look from the kitchen. He chugs down the rest of what was in his tankard. "Let me buy your grog, sir?"

Berg lifts his significant brow at Raff. "Aw…fanks, but I couldn' let ya. 'At's a lotta ale, 'at is. Elly jus' lets me work it off, most times."

Raff nods, "All right, then." As he reaches out and claps the man's shoulder, "I thank you for a fine night. Going to go to my best meat pie agony."

Berg reaches over and gives Raff a similar clap on the shoulder. "See ya 'round, Raff. Don' be a stranger, oy?"

Raff is thrown over a good foot by the clap to him. He winces a bit and nods, "Don't worry. Can't be much stranger." He winks and heads out the door. later on in the week, Elly would get an envelope of money to pay for Berg's room for a week.

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