Meanwhile, deep below in a dwarven tunnel carved in rock and leading to the Bowmen's Guildhall...
Easing her way through the dark, Bardhwyn held out one hand and scuffled slowly over what felt like hard rock floor covered with a fine layer of dirt. It was pitch black but she knew eventually she'd come to a door leading from the spare armaments hold and hopefully by it a candle stub and a flint box.
It amazed her she remembered the location of the Guildhall's tunnel entrance, and was even more amazed to find in unobstructed and passable. The spare key was even in the same place.
Her foot hit an object. She leaned over and felt the thing cautiously. It was a broken spear shaft. She found the iron head nearby, still sharp. Both dropped when they escaped from the Guildhouse that fateful day, oh so long ago. She tried to remember more but so much had passed since those days. All she recalled was frantic rush through the dark and into the air. She'd reached the secret armaments hold; a large room cut from the rock - nothing more.
The Archer pressed on and finally arrived at a wall but the shelf there was empty; no candle or flint box. Cautious once more, she felt her way to a door handle. She lifted the latch and opened. The door protested with a sharp metallic squeal but it gave way. A murky light spilled into the room before her, fed from a small window high up at what was ground level. Bardhwyn groaned. Along with shelves of wrapped and box cheeses, dried herbs, and other foodstuffs high on the wall opposite she could also make out a stack of barrels piled on their side ending at eye level directly in front of her. Such were the hazards of creating a 'hidden' door. Things get piled up against it. She threw her belongings through the gap offered, found a toe hold and began to climb, squeezing herself through and cursing the dwarf stewards for their handiwork.
"First thing to do, move these barr...AH!"
The ground met her fast. A slow creak of wood made her look up in time to see a barrel, dislodged by her fall, teeter towards her. She dodged. It fell. It broke open.
It was a full bodied Dorwinion red, easily ten years old.
Her boots made a wet, squelching sound as she made her way up the cellar stair, into the main hall and to the main stair case. A trail of wine splatters followed her as she walked. The Archer met a wide-eyed dwarf half way up the stair.
"We'd noo expect t'a see you, Archer!" he cooed. "Special dispensation to be back, have ye?"
"Aye, special dispensation by orders of the Mistress Archer. Keep it quiet, though. I don't want any 'interesting' developments while I'm here, eh?" Bardhwyn replied.
The dwarf nodded. "Aye, no intrestin' developments, aye." He sniffed as she passed. "And what 'appened? You're drenched in wine!"
"I had a tussle with a wine barrel and the barrel won. Not a complete loss," she held up large pitcher for the dwarf to see, "I saved some of it. You may want to send someone down to clean up the wine cellar." She stopped at the landing and inspected a large water stain snaking its way down the plaster. "This place needs a little attention." The Archer looked called down to the dwarf. "I still have a room here? Right? You haven't put my things in storage, have you?"
"Aye, ye have a room, Archer, that ye do," the dwarf replied with a chuckle. "We've not touched a single thing." He began to descend the stair. "Why, any one of y'ese could appear at the front door right noo, the FRONT door mind, and y'ed find your rooms, your clothes, everything as you'd left 'em. Why, the Master Archer's fuzzy pink slippers are still under his bed, they are. And I won't mention what Themedes left in his closet, no."
Bardhwyn stood at the landing looking down over the rail at the slowly descending dwarf and swallowed hard. "Damn, I hope they didn't open my bedside table drawer."
[ I'll get her out to the archery field once she'd had a wash.