Beneath the Old Rowan Tree

“And here...!” Loreen sweeps her arm through the air, gesturing to the grid of tall wooden posts rising from the hilly ground ahead, a lattice of thick strings strung between their tops. “Here is where we grow our hops!”

Thea raises a single delicate brow, her soft-blue eyes critically looking over the countless very leafy vines growing from between those treated trunk posts, climbing up at the perfect angle for a step ladder to fit between each ‘V’ shaped row. “They are a bit... yellow.”

Adeline’s mother hardly seems to mind that brat’s slightly judgmental tone. “Of course,” she plainly replies, still holding tight onto her daughter’s hand. “It is autumn. The flowers were all harvested a couple months back, so what’s left here are just the bare bines. And they don’t last through winter! When the first frost truly comes, all of these bines will go brown and wither away, leaving it up to the roots to sprout them all anew during springtime! Those will all be bright and green!”

The noble girl simply shrugs, not really caring about... well, any of that.

“Oh!” Loreen, with her apparently boundless energy, jumps in place... nearly pulling Adeline off balance. “And there’s the old Rowan!” She excitedly exclaims, pushing open a gate set into a simple woven wood wattle fence.

A very quietly sighed “finally...” can just about be heard as the bratty blonde grabs onto her barbaric lover’s free arm, guiding it over her shoulders and hugging it close to her chest.

“Eeeeeiiiee...” Adeline squeaks as she is all but dragged towards that decently tall tree, its clustered trunks covered in greyish bark marred by countless orangy brown cracks. One of her sisters, presumably, tosses a thick carpet of a blanket over the gnarled roots burrowing into the grassy ground, before a pair of small children place a couple of chunky cushions atop it. “Eeeiep...!” Stumbling ever so slightly, this bunny-mouse finds herself getting gently pushed down onto one of those pillows, landing on her rather bottom-heavy behind.

Quite a few Halfling’s are scurrying about in the open expanse of this fairly flat ‘valley’, hills rising all around them. Some of those short figures are carrying benches, stools, and seats into the shade of that old rowan tree, the branches overhead climbing ever higher as they reach further away. Others are lugging out tables, disassembled and folded alike. A few can even be seen herding plump little birds through a gate set into a hedge, getting them out of the way of this gathering.

Bunches of bright red berries are dotted all across this canopy of dark and dull leaves, the green of those feathery fronds veering on brown. The Drakling’s emerald eyes linger on those vibrant little fruits, a bundle of which hangs so close to her head as she – and the Were-Beast clinging onto her side – ducks beneath a relatively low hanging branch. Low to her, not to a girl like Thea and most definitely not compared to any of these Halflings.

“If you’d like, you can pick some of those and eat them!” Loreen warmly states, the tuft of dark-blonde fur at the tip of her thin tail tapping into Adeline’s side as she finally gives that anxious girl a bit of personal space. “But... I wouldn’t recommend it,” she adds, a bright beaming smile filling her face as the Drakling settles down beside her daughter. “They’re a bit bitter, see. They need a good frost or two to sweeten up, and then they’re good to eat! Well, they’re still not as nice as, say, strawberries... But they still make for a jam that goes good with gamier meat!”

Krvavy shifts her weight to the side as she carefully crosses her strong legs, the black scales of her inhumanly clawed toes left visible by the stirrup-like straps of her incredibly tight pants. Pants which quite closely hug the sizable bulge that is now all the easier to see as she sits like this...

Loreen leans back, her palms pressing into the blanket beneath her as she peers up into the canopy above, those bright red berries not too visible from down here in the shade of this old rowan tree. “They’re much better used as a way to flavour our ales though...”

“Eeeiiep!” Adeline squeaks as the Drakling grabs onto the convenient handles of her wondrously wide hips, hefting her up and pulling her close. That embarrassed girl blushes so brightly as she finds herself sitting comfortably in Krvavy’s lap, the cushion that was only briefly her seat quickly claimed by Thea, giving her no choice but to accept her cuddled fate.

As casually as can be, Krvavy wraps an arm around each of her blonde fiancées, curling her thick tail around the waist of the Were-Beast still leaning heavily against her side. “I know your family brews beer,” stout specifically, as their name suggests, “but you also make ale too?”

Glimmering warmth dances across Loreen’s hazel-brown eyes as she watches her daughter melt into that tight and cuddling hug, Adeline’s head leaning back into the barbarian’s pale cleavage. “Yup!” She quickly nods, proudly puffing out her modest chest. “I am one of the best alewives around as well! We make big batches of the stuff all the time! Mostly for ourselves to drink, but we do sell or trade quite a bit to the neighbours too. Some even come quite a ways over just to get a cask when they can! All ale is good and hearty, but ours is the most filling and fulfilling! It... just doesn’t really last all that long before going off... Bittering it helps, but only so much...”

“Rrnnnhhmnh...” Khalia trembles, stretching her bestial legs out to the side before pulling them back in. Her fluffy ears twitch as she nuzzles right against her barbaric Mate’s bosom, green-skinned cheek rubbing into that pesky jacket. “Nhhhrrmnh...” Her amber-gold eyes slowly droop shut.

“Oh, but that doesn’t matter too much...!” Loreen continues, her mood returning to being just as bright and sunny as the yellow fabric of her otherwise plain dress. “Not when we drink it all so quickly! We hardly give even a single cask the chance to go off before we have to brew a whole new batch!”

Anxious as she is, Adeline still nods to that. “I hel-helped a lot w-w-with that,” she shakily states, squirming just a little in the comfortable seat of Krvavy’s lap. “Mostly t-t-tas-taste tes-ti-ting when I was y-y-youn-g-ger, then w-with the br-brewing when I g-g-got older...” Her already soft voice quiets down even further, trailing off into a breathless mumble just as her little fingers grasp tight onto the Drakling’s larger digits, holding that hand in search of reassurance.

Which is exactly what that adorable bunny-mouse gets, her bottom-heavy body softly squeezed... even as the barbarian’s brow knits together.

“You...” Krvavy cranes her neck forwards, peering down at the blonde head nestled quite snugly in her cleavage. “You were tasting ale when... when you were younger...?” She hesitantly asks, trying to not sound too concerned. Or judgmental.

“Don’t worry,” the mother of that embarrassed bunny-mouse casually waves off Krvavy’s worries, “I’m not nearly irresponsible enough to let the little ones get drunk! The ales we brew barely have any alcohol in them! You’d have to drink enough to fill your stomach a dozen times over before feeling even a little bit of a buzz! Or... at least that’s the case for folk as small as us! For someone as big as you, my dear daughter’s sweetheart, you’d have to drown in the stuff!”

Adeline quickly nods, pulling the hand she is holding right up to her all but flat chest. “W-we save the al-alc-c-cohol for the beers and st-stouts...!”

“And those aren’t for the kids!” Loreen rather assertively states, only to pause and tilt her head to the side, floppy bunny ears dangling towards the ground. “Or for any of us, really. They’re for selling, and we can’t exactly sell our stout beers if we drink it all ourselves! Though sometimes a keg doesn’t seal quite right, and if it won’t travel well, well, it is better to drink it than let it go to waste...”

Most of the Halfling’s scurrying about have since slowed down, moving at a more leisurely pace as they put the last few things in place, lingering around the tables and seats that they’ve set up throughout this little ‘valley’ clearing. But not all of the work needed for this impromptu picnic has been done just yet. A few of Adeline’s siblings, nieces, and nephews are heaping twigs and branches into a pile, placing gathered rocks and stones around it. Others have brought out utensils and cookware, ready to take advantage of that soon-to-be lit bonfire.

The mother – grandmother – of just about all of those Halflings taps a finger against her chin, unbothered by the increasingly boisterous sounds of so many voices speaking over each other. “Though if we really want to drink something... that is what the wines are for!”

Thea immediately perks up, blinking as she suddenly begins to pay attention to what is being said. “You produce wine as well?” She curiously asks, shamelessly enjoying the presence of the arm resting across her shoulders, her dainty fingers tracing small circles on the back of its black-scaled hand. “I did not see any vineyards during your... tour.”

“Vin–? Oh, no no, not grape wine!” Loreen laughs, the wrinkles beneath her eyes growing deeper as her smile grows ever wider. “I meant fruit wine! Like using elderberries... we have some of those bushes back thataways,” she points over past a relatively short hill, opposite to the larger one her home resides within. “Or, really, just any berries, sometimes mixed together... if we have extras left over after making jams... and if those leftovers don’t get eaten up on their own...”

A bit of movement in the corner of Krvavy’s eye catches her attention. Her brow furrows just a bit as one of the many Halflings now milling around ducks behind a conspicuously isolated shrub and disappears from sight... only for another, different, Halfling to pop out a few seconds later.

But the barbarian doesn’t get a chance to question that, the adorable little bunny-mouse nestled quite snugly in her lap suddenly speaking up.

“D-dandelions!” Adeline shakily sputters out, the frantic beat of her heart echoing through her Draconic lover’s hand, that huge palm pressed flat atop her nearly flat chest. “We use d-dan-dandelions to make wine too! S-sometimes...!”

Thea’s lips twist into a slightly disdainful sneer, her soft-blue gaze piercing into her fellow fiancée’s hazel-brown eyes. “Dandelion...? As in the weed...? The ones with the puffy white seeds...?”

The tuft of fur at the tip of Loreen’s thin tail twitches, as does her daughter’s tail... though that one can’t move quite as much considering how tightly it is curled around Khalia’s furred arm. “W-well...” A tinge of embarrassment underlines that single, hesitant word. “What is and what isn’t a ‘weed’ is... a bit subjective... We don’t grow dandelions specifically, but no one around here will complain about them sprouting up in our yards. They are... a very useful little plant.”

“Y-yeah...!” Adeline emphatically agrees with her mother, the fluttering of her eyelashes causing Thea’s face to flush, if just faintly. “The g-greens are good t-t-to eat in a sa-salad, i-if a bit bitt-bitter...! The roots c-can be ground up-p and ro-roas-st-ted to m-make a nice t-t-tea...! The f-flo-flowers and th-their petals can be made i-in-into a dye, or used f-f-f-for wine...!”

“And speaking of wine!” The older Halfling not so subtly brings the conversation back to that, slightly more illustrious, topic. “We also sometimes use currants, both white and reds, or cherries! We don’t produce a lot of wine, not enough to sell, so we have the freedom to use whatever strikes our fancy, really. As long as there is an excess of any such ingredient, at least. But! That does mean we occasionally get to use something quite exotic! Like rose hips!”

The brat’s silver-blonde brow shoots up in surprise. “You make rose wine?!”

“Rose hip wine!” Loreen corrects, sitting just a bit straighter and looking more than a little smug over the fact that she was able to impress this noble girl. “It is a bit more complicated, and wines – especially not fancy ones like that – aren’t our specialty, but that doesn’t mean that making the stuff is beyond our means! The process is pretty much the same as with blackthorns – we’ve got quite a few of those scattered about – or hawthorns – that’s what a lot of the hedges around here are grown from, oh, and their leaves are also good for salads – and...!” She quickly turns towards the old tree they’re sitting beneath, knocking her knuckles against a gnarled root. “Rowan too!”

The trimmed and filed nail at the tip of Thea’s index finger idly traces along one of the tendons in the back of her barbaric lover’s hand. “Back to the rose hip wine...”

“Oh!” Loreen jumps slightly, her attention snapping back towards that brat. “Yes! There... might still be a keg of that laying around...?” She uncertainly states, tilting her head to the side and looking out across this gathering of her immediate family, more than a few of those Halflings lingering within ears reach. “We don’t grow roses ourselves, see. They’re a bit too much work to care for, especially when we have everything else around here keeping us busy. But! We do occasionally get a load of hips in lieu of money from the Roosebower’s... They have a lot of roses, mostly for perfumes and the like...”

A very faint frown finds its way onto Thea’s face, her dream of having some ‘rose wine’ dying being before it can be fulfilled.

And that slight bit of disappointment doesn’t go unnoticed. Loreen leans back, looking over the closest of her children and grandchildren... excluding the one sitting in Krvavy’s lap, of course. “Ermelinde!” She waves over a girl – or a woman, really – who looks to be a couple years older than Adeline. “Can you go and check if we have any rose hip wine left? And, if there is any, can you bring it out... alongside some perry and cider? Thank you, dear!”

Krvavy tilts her head to the side. “Perry...?”

“Yes!” The older Halfling nods, misunderstanding Krvavy’s confusion as a simple statement rather than her not really knowing what ‘perry’ is. “We’ll probably end up drinking those for most of the day!”

Thea quirks her brow. “You produce perry and cider as well as wine, ale, and beer?” She sounds both surprised by and a little skeptical of that.

“Well, we don’t exactly go out of our way to make wine...” Loreen shakes her head, those floppy bunny ears of hers just barely flapping past her shoulders. “But no, not really. We have a few crabapple trees, but unless they have a good year... we just have to do as a lot of families around here do: buy our cider, and perry too, from the Sidergrove’s! They have quite a few orchards, and make more than enough of the stuff to have a whole selection of ciders on offer! Sweet or bitter, good for the kids or a fair bit harder and stout! But, don’t worry, we’ll start off a bit easy on them! It wouldn’t do to get drunk so soon in the day! So go easy on the wine!” She waggles her finger at that brat, like the mother she is... only for a lively grin to play at her lips. “But later though, in the afternoon or evening when the kids have gotten bored or gone to bed...!”

The barbarian blankly blinks. “You’re not, uh, busy with anything else...?” She awkwardly asks, emerald eyes glancing across the numerous Halflings who, not even an hour ago, were hard at work. “We kinda did show up unannounced...”

“Oh, don’t worry about that!” Loreen casually dismisses the Drakling’s concerns. Again. “We weren’t doing anything important! Nothing that we can’t catch up on later, at least! And speaking of... How long are you all planning on visiting?” She leans forward, her gaze glimmering with hopeful expectation. “All the way until Hallows Eve?”

Adeline jumps in place, the top of her head nearly bashing into Krvavy’s chin. “N-no!” She quickly stammers out, her heart absolutely hammering away within her slim chest. “Only... t-today...?” The nervous girl glances up at her Draconic lover, the conflict between leaving here as quickly as she can and sticking around a while longer clear across her upside-down face. “Maybe t-tomorrow t-t-too...?”

The rather energetic mother of that anxious little bunny furrows her brow. “That is hardly any time at all...” Which is obviously intentional. Adeline can only handle so much socializing before burning out. “Well!” Predictably, Loreen quickly perks right back up. “That just means we have to make the most of today!”

“Eeeeeeeeeeiiee...” Adeline audibly dies a little inside, shrinking into Krvavy’s embrace at just the thought of all the talking she’ll have to do.

“Oh! And on that note...!” The older Halfling woman hastily hops to her feet, idly brushing down the slightly coarse fabric of her bright yellow dress, before bring those hands up and cupping them around her mouth. “GEORGIE!” For such a small woman, she sure can be loud... “GEORGIE!”

“By the Gods, woman! You’re going to shout our guests ears off!” The relatively gruff father to the smallest of Krvavy’s girls grumbles and groans as he quickly hurries on over from where he was by the now roaring bonfire, catching his affectionate wife in his arms and tolerating the quick kiss planted on his cheek, just past his bushy sideburns. “What’s the issue?”

“Oh, there’s no issue, nothing’s wrong at all! But would you be a dear and sit on down here~?” Rather forcefully, Loreen pulls her husband over and then pushes him down into the spot where she just sat. “The kitchen looks to be spilling out into the yard, so keep our dear daughter’s sweetheart...s company while I go and wrangle all that, alright? Thanks~!”

George simply stifles a sigh as his wife scurries off.

Krvavy quirks her brow, watching as Loreen emphatically gestures and sends some of her (grand)children off... into some shrubs and bushes.

“We don’t just have the front door.”

The Drakling twitches, her gaze quickly darting towards her future father-in-law. Who looks more than a little smug over the fact that he had – very slightly – startled her...

“Any burrow worth its salt has multiple ways in and out of it, especially one as expansive as our own.” George quite proudly states, lifting his chin high. “It would do us no good to get trapped inside by a heavy snow, or by something as disastrous as a room caving in. Even though that only happens to folk who skimp out on maintaining their home.” He scoffs, casually crossing his arms and slowly shaking his head.

Adeline’s little fingers squeeze tight around Krvavy’s hand, her heartbeat... not quite slowing down, but no longer beating nearly as fast. “Th-they’re also g-good for a-air-airf-flow...! If the f-fires get a b-b-bit smo-smokey...”

The father of that well-cuddled girl slowly nods. “The windows work for that as well, but they’re a bit small...” He pauses, idly scratching at the thick sideburns creeping along his rounded jaw. “And they can’t function as bolt-holes, if raiders or some other threat were to come on by...”

“Does that happen often?” Krvavy curiously questions... only to get lightly elbowed in the ribs by the brat whose family is in charge of keeping this community safe.

“Oh, no not at all, perish the thought.” George quickly answers, glancing across this gathering of his children and grandchildren, looking past the hills that block his sight. “We’ve had a few scares, mostly just the bigger animals making a ruckus, but there’s never been any real danger. Not in my lifetime, at least.” His absentminded expression hardens as he focuses back on the present, only to then soften as he glances towards Thea. “Though I suppose not everyone is quite so lucky, huh?”

The noble girl can’t help but frown, if just faintly. “Has the news reached here already...?” She sighs, not sounding too surprised. This sprawling Halfling settlement may be a bit isolated and out of the way, but it has been a few days since the siege ended. Over a week since the (now deceased) Duke’s army marched on Svaneti.

“‘News’? I’d say ‘gossip’, more like.” This older Halfling shakes his head again. “Quite a few of your folk – Humans, that is – showed up... a few days back. Not here, so we didn’t get to see any of them ourselves, but word still spreads.... and changes as it moves from mouth to mouth. I’ve heard that those folk were just spooked by some bad weather, all those dark clouds that were seen to the south around that time. But I’ve also heard that they fled an army with more soldiers than there are drops of rain in a storm. I reckon the second is more true, if still very exaggerated? People don’t just up and leave everything they own just because of a few clouds.”

“Yeah,” Krvavy slowly nods, answering in place of her first fiancée. “There was an entire army, a pretty big one too... and they burnt down most of Svaneti. There was a lot of smoke and ash in the sky.”

“Oh.” George blinks, his brow slowly knitting together. “My... condolences...?”

Thea waves off that cautious concern, before taking hold of her barbaric lover’s hand once more. “I did not lose...” she hesitates for just the briefest of moments, “much at all. Not personally, at least. Father lost an eye and a hand, but that is it. My family made it out far better than... than many others.”

This rugged, rural Halfling takes a moment to respond. “That’s... good, I suppose.” He slightly awkwardly states, apparently unaware of just who that brat’s father is. Which likely can’t be said for all of his children and grandchildren. Not if the furtive glances constantly being shot their way are anything to go by. “It is never easy, losing ones you love. Not even when they’re old and you expect it...”

Krvavy lightly chews on the inside of her cheek, the somber silence that has crept into the shade of this old rowan tree coaxing memories out from the depths of her mind, memories that she’d rather not think about. Not right now, during what was supposed to be a happy reunion. “And, uh, speaking of family...” She nods her horned head towards the now quite cluttered clearing ahead of them. “You’ve got a... pretty big one. And I hear that this isn’t even all of them. Not even close.”

“Well...” George softly sighs, looking a little thankful that the conversation is being moved past a topic that might have made him seem slightly sentimental. “Depends on how distant you go. None of mine or Loreen’s siblings are here, nor any of their children. So its really just our Adeline’s immediately family here... along with her nieces and nephews.”

Thea quirks a delicate brow, glancing between her fellow fiancée – who seems content with not having to speak – and that anxious girl’s father, before sweeping her gaze across all of the other Halflings further away. “Are they all usually... here?”

“All of them? No.” George quickly replies, his floppy bunny ears brushing against the straps of his overalls as he shakes his head. “I don’t know how you do it in the city, but around here it is normal for an extended family to all live the same home, to an extent. When they start to get a bit too distant, then they start to go and dig out homes of their own, making room for the main trunk of the family tree. So give it a few decades and most of Adeline’s siblings will have moved out of here, leaving this place for Harold – her eldest brother – and his family. Just as my siblings did, as my family grew. We work quite a bit of land and need a lot of hands to do so, so we can’t afford to be heartless enough to kick our kids out as soon as they’re old enough to live on their own.”

“B-but...!” Adeline adorably blurts out, wincing slightly as that naturally draws attention towards her. “Ermelinde an-and Jess-Jessamine...!”

“Oh, right, yeah.” The father of that nervous girl nods once more. “Usually, a wife goes and moves in with her husband and his family. So those two – Adeline’s sisters – don’t live here anymore. But they still live close enough that they’re around quite often. Especially in the off season, when there isn’t as much to do at their homes.”

“I heard my name!” A warm voice playfully shouts across the crowded clearing, a small train of Halflings making their way over with a few barrels held between them, each of those casks about the size of one of their torsos. “Hope you’re saying good things about me, lil’ sis!”

Adeline simply makes a soft squeaking sound as she shrinks even further into her barbaric lover’s embrace... and cleavage...

George tilts his head to the side, looking over that approaching procession. “Bringing out the drinks already?”

“On Mum’s orders!”

“Hmh. Alright.” That fit, if a little portly, farmer pushes himself up and off the ground, before swiftly stepping aside. “I’ll go and commandeer a table for you lot.” The faintest of frowns finds its way onto his face. “And some cups.”

Ermelinde, the slightly older sister to this embarrassed bunny-mouse, wastes not a second as she steals her father’s – formerly her mother’s – seat, letting her... probably nephews rather than her own children... place those barrels down. Of which there are only three, near identical with woven hazel hoops helping to bind the wooden staves in place, only differentiated by the ribbons of orange, green, and pink wrapped around the singular cork embedded in the side of each barrel. “Take your time, Pa. I’ll keep lil’ Adeline and her lov– her sweethearts company!”

Adeline’s grip on her Draconic lover’s hand tightens almost to the point of being painful, that increasingly embarrassed bunny-mouse clinging onto it with all her might.

George narrows his gaze, lightly glaring at the eldest of his daughters, who simply grins back at him. “Be nice and give the poor girl some space when she needs it.” And with that, he is off... not even waiting for a response.

“So, lil’ Adeline...!” Ermelinde leans in, her hazel eyes gleaming bright. “What –~?”

“L-letters...!” The bottom-heavy blonde spins halfway around, all but punching her barbaric lover in the boob as she throws open that Drakling’s jacket and hastily rummages through its inside pockets. “H-h-h-here...!” She pulls free quite a few envelopes, some of which are a little crinkled, and thrusts just one of them out towards her older sister.

Who quite happily takes it. “Aww, thanks!” Only to immediately place it aside. “But...!” Ermelinde’s grin gains the classic bit of harmless cruelty inherent to any teasing, older sibling. “Why would I read what you’ve been up to, when you could just tell me yourself~?”

The big black-scaled hand that was briefly dropped is quickly grabbed again, getting hauled up and used to hide Adeline’s flustered face. “Eeeiiieeee...!”

“Come now, don’t be like that, cute as it may be~!” Slowly, Ermelinde comes to loom over the napping Were-Beast’s head, unbothered by her proximity to that precious puppy. Which isn’t much of a surprise. Khalia doesn’t look nearly as fierce while softly snoring. “I hear you’ve gotten engaged, for one~. So go on, don’t be shy~! How’d that happen~?”

Adeline trembles and shakes, a sizable palm covering most of her face. “Eeeip!” She sharply squeaks in surprise, her fellow fiancée’s dainty finger poking into her slightly squishy belly.

“If you do not tell your sister that sweet little story...” Warmth and love fills that bratty blonde’s soft-blue eyes... along with a rather playful twinkle, that glimmering light akin to a threat. “Then I will...!”

Adeline jerks her head up, looking to Krvavy for support, in hopes of being saved.

The barbarian simply smiles back down at her, pale cheeks coloured by a slightly rosy blush. “You can do this.” Come the reassuring words, honest and full of conviction.