Campfire

“I trust him. He could have taken advantage of you throughout the afternoon. I recommend you explain the situation and ask for aid.”

Miri threw up her hands in frustration. She sat on a boulder, surrounded by lichen and shaded by a massive willow tree, out of earshot of camp. Aiano had felt it necessary to discuss their immediate plans, so Miri had excused herself from Dazar’s company before he could hear Aiano. “You might be right, but the guy’s a massive perv. And what’s he doing out here alone? We’re out here out of necessity, yet he abandoned civilization for this?” Miri gestured to the jungle, omnipresent around her.

“Of course I am right. But, I understand your concern. For what it’s worth, he’s been a gentleman so far. And you didn’t ask him why he’s out here alone.”

“I thought you were supposed to agree with me,” Miri grouched. “I agree we should at least stay the night. Get some food and then, who knows?”

“You are indeed wise beyond your years, my lady.”

“And stop calling me that. If you must, I am Miriamelle or Miri. What even is a lady?” Miri snapped. She stood up and stretched her sore muscles while awaiting Aiano’s response. When it became apparent none would be forthcoming, Miri began the short walk back to camp.

A cracking fire awaited her return. The smell of roasting fish and vegetables hit Miri like a staunch kick in the guts. Dazar was stoking the fire with a metal stick and humming a jaunty tune. He saw Miri and called out, “Dinner should be ready soon as the salmon’s done.”

“OK. Is there anything I can do to help?” Miri asked, crossing the distance to talk in a regular voice. The smoke from the fire billowed between them, guided by the light wind.

“Sure. If you grabbed the stout barrel from beside my tent. I’ll grab Lucille and crack it open. Canteen or mug?” The dwarf said amiably, cracking his back as he stood up.

Miri had to think a moment before answering, “Mug. And who’s Lucille?”

Chuckling, Dazar strode off toward his fishing spot and bellowed back, “You’re gonna love her.”

Miriamelle did not in fact love Lucille. “She” was a double-sided ax covered in all kinds of dried gore. Laughing at the horrified expression on Miriamelle’s face, Dazar used the cleanest part of the blade to bust open the barrel of stout. She noticeably paled as he screwed in a spigot and poured them each some.

“Lucille and I have been together for right near a century. Best damn thing I own.” Dazar crowed, passing the mug to Miriamelle.

“I hate to impugn your honor, but shouldn’t you clean that blade? It seems awfully unsanitary.” Miri asked. Dazar lifted his canteen up and took a hearty drought.

“I would if I could. This here is genuine dragon blood. In the spring of 1432, around fifty years ago, my party and I killed a high dragon. I cut into the neck of the thing, and the blood burned into the metal. Can’t really fix that – she’d have to be reforged. Don’t worry about cleanliness, Cleric Arwenia blessed the blade herself.” Dazar smiled, tickled pink, someone wanted to hear about his ax.

Miri smiled through pursed lips. “Dare I ask how you killed it?” That spurred an enthusiastic tale of heroism, tomfoolery, and a pinch of skulduggery from the excited dwarf. He spent an inordinate time describing the puzzle lock protecting the lair’s backdoor and how he cracked it. Dazar ignored the less-than-rapt expression on Miri’s face as she eyed the fish.

Finishing his story, Dazar checked the fish with his knife and announced, “It’s done. Got a mess kit?”

“No.”

“Well… I’ll grab mine and serve myself. You get the pot.” Dazar’s beard twitched as he fiddled with the food preparation. Miriamelle consumed her food at a rapid pace. Potato and carrot were eaten nearly whole as Dazar watched on with an impressed expression locked on his face. “How’s the fish?”

“I-is go-o-od. Whank You sooo muuch!” Miri managed to get out between large bites of piping hot food. All too soon, Miri scraped the bottom of the barrel. Dazar laughed when he spied the mournful look on her face. She grabbed the mug and took a sip, her eyes going wide as it nearly came right back up. “Holy shit! That’s strong!”

“Aye! Brewed it myself. Then my brother skived off with it. Anyhow, it’s just right, ain’t it!” The dwarf laughed at Miri’s scandalous expression.

“Well… Thank you very much for the food, Dazar. I haven’t been able to eat for a few days,” Miri acknowledged, walking over to the river and cleaning the pot. Dazar handed her his mess kit before putting on some more firewood.

When they had both sat back down, Dazar asked, “So, why is that? Even a starting adventurer should be able to survive out here. And a more seasoned one would have some legit gear. Neither of which seems true to me. Where are you from, Miriamelle de la Cruz?”

“It’s a long story… I know it’s a total cop out, but can we-” Miri began:

“No. We may not.”

Dazar immediately looked around in confusion, shouting, “Show yourself!”

“It’s alright Dazar. Guess I just have to trust you.” Miri sighed in exasperation. She held the left wrist up, so the firelight glinted off the pink moonstone gems. “That voice you heard came from my bracelet, Aiano. It’s a long story, will you listen?”

Dazar visibly relaxed and for the first time Miriamelle noticed Lucille had suddenly appeared in his hand where it wasn’t when they ate. She gulped, aware for the first time that the individual sitting across from her just might be more dangerous than he initially appeared.

“Sure. Let me pour another ale and stoke the fire. Want another?” Dazar offered. Miri nodded no and explained she only had one sip. When Dazar sat down again, Miri told her story starting the night she encountered two thugs in Portland, with little interjections from Aiano explaining the more magical elements. Dazar looked visibly grieved when she finished and walked over and gave her a big bear hug.

“I’m sorry for your loss, young’un. Truly. If it helps, I’ll do what I can for ya.” Dazar’s voice was ragged with emotion as he stroked her hair as Miri finished crying. It took some time, but eventually they disengaged and Miri thanked him for his compassion.

“It’s no worry of mine. Stay with me. We’re about a five-day hike from Greenwater, and I’ve got the food to keep us both hale. Tonight, please take my bedroll.” She acquiesced and they turned in for the night.