Worldbuilding Prompt #755 - Not In Polite Company, and Certainly Not At The Dinner Table !

This post was inspired by a writing prompt in the Worldbuilding Community - Worldbuilding Prompt #755 - Rude Gestures

Enjoy !

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"Now then children," Fani Hostadottir told her assembled little darlings, "We've got the Sigmattarson's coming over for the Firesmoon holiday dinner. I want you to be on your best behaviour, you hear me ?"

Birgitta nodded solemnly. Fani wasn't too worried about her. Gilder and Therrin, on the other hand, well they were a worry. The two boys stood there fidgeting, clearly not absorbing the lecture. All Fani could do was hope for the best. The Sigmattarson's were one of the most influential trading families among the Dwarves of the Niandi Mountains, and Fani was hoping her husband Broti would be allowed to captain a stoneboat on one of their next expeditions.

Two hours later, the two families were sitting down to the holiday dinner. As was traditional, the main dish was a mushroom and mountain goat meat casserole garnished with summer herbs, served on platters of hard bread. The meal was washed down with cloudberry wine for the adults, and cloudberry juice for the children.

At the head of the table sat Grandpa Sigmattarson, First Councillor of Threepeakhold. He was ancient and widely considered to be wise. Right now, he was four glasses of wine in, and guzzling down casserole as if he had a starving tapeworm inside.

Gilder and Therrin were still fidgeting and obviously bored. They'd made it clear they didn't like the casserole, and Broti had calmly told them twice already that if they didn't finish it they wouldn't have any of the honeyed bread pudding dessert.

As Fani ladled another scoop of casserole onto Grandpa's platter, Gilder used the distraction to try to take a spoonful of his and surreptitiously transfer it onto Therrin's dish.

Therrin spotted it. "Oi !" he called out his brother in an accusatory tone. "You just dumped that on me !"

"So what if I did ?" Gilder retorted. "It's on your plate now, you've gotta eat it. "

With a big grin, he closed his right hand into a fist, finger and thumb at the top. He formed the finger and thumb of his left hand into a circle, and held them over his right hand facing downward. Then he slammed his fist up into the circle he'd made, the two pairs of forefingers and thumbs slapping together noisily.

Birgitta's jaw dropped open. Fani dropped her ladle in shock, casserole splattering across the white tablecloth. Broti's face clouded with anger, and he raised a hand to clip his son around the ear.

Then Grandpa Sigmattarson looked up from his stew and guffawed, a hearty great belly laugh.

"Young man, that's the rudest sign you can make. Do you know why we don't use that gesture in polite company ? Why we save it for taunting orcs with ? Do you even know what it means ?"

Gilder blushed and looked down. He may be young for a dwarf, but he realised that the white bearded ancient dwarf at the head of the table was probably the most important person he'd meet in his whole life.

Stuck for words he just shook his head, his cheeks flushing red with shame.

"Well I'll tell you," the old dwarf continued. "The fist of your right hand represents the head of your war hammer. The circle of your left is... well, it symbolises a certain bodily orifice. Slapping the two together is saying that you'll be shoving your war hammer up into a place where the sun doesn't shine with great force. So save it for the orcs, they really don't like it up 'em."

With a grin, the old dwarf resumed noisily slurping on his casserole.