A Date with Beatrice

Morning light filtered in through his window. Soft rays washing over himself and the half orc. He lifted his head to peer around the room in the waking light. Half of him thought about getting up for work, but then he felt something press against his skin. Her warm form was snuggled against him beneath the sheets. The softness of her plump rear was particularly hard to ignore. He reasoned that maybe he could just stay in bed through the morning and work an afternoon and evening. His arm was tingling and numb from being folded under his head through the night. He moved the sleeping limb about to try and wake it. The disturbance caused Beatrice to stir slightly. She grumbled softly in her sleep while rolling in closer to him. A content sigh coming from the sleeping huntress as his arm wrapped around her. He tried to stretch his legs but met a soft bit of resistance when he did. At some point Daisy had come in and curled up at their feet in the night it seemed. The hound was snoring softly and kicking idly in her dreams. An occasional yipping bark coming from her snout.

The young sailor very quickly realized he had no wiggle room. Try as he might to move even an inch, he’d risk disturbing his pet or his partner. Stretching his leg would have him kick the poor hound. Trying to move his arms or upper body would shove into the huntress who was currently tangled around him. There was no winning except for surrender. Wilkes set his head back down on the pillow, and smiled to himself. He began to drift back off to sleep, his arm still fully wrapped around her. It was a dreamless rest, which was welcome after the tumultuous nature of his recent evenings.

After a short while of laying there, Daisy woke up on her own. It seemed nature’s call was bothering the hound. She took careful steps upward, her paws pressing mostly on the mattress. She did however put her weight onto Wilkes’s face as she began to sniff him intently. Her snout nudged at his face, a small whine coming from her. He shifted on the mattress, being careful to keep Beatrice from waking as his arm slid further around her. Her mouth lolled open for a moment and she started to drool on the pillow. Ordinarily, he might have found it childish or a little gross. On Beatrice, though, he couldn't bring himself to care. He tucked a tuft of her hair behind her ear as he struggle to snake his arm back. Daisy continued to whine and press her paws on him. He shushed her and pat her flank with his free arm.

As he finally wriggled free, Beatrice seemed to show the first signs of being awake. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at him. She smacked her lips before noticing she had begun to drool. She blushed heavily and quickly wiped her face.

“Good morning Wilkes, I slept like a rock. You sleep okay?” She asked him while still half asleep, she fought back a yawn and rubbed her eyes gently. Wilkes fought back his own yawn before answering.

“Yeah, don’t remember what I dreamt though. Gotta take Daisy to take care of her business, so I’ll be back in a bit.” Wilkes tolled her, planting a quick peck on her lips.

“Don’t take too long, I’ll be waiting.” She cooed at him while he got Daisy to jump off his bed. He was nearly out of the door before he remembered it’d be more polite to wear pants to walk Daisy. After a quick correction and a small laugh from Beatrice he was back out the door. His little hut was remarkably clean despite him having done little in the way of tidying. A small note sat on the countertop by the door.

Wilkes,

The state of your home would have been unsightly for any future visitors. I took it upon myself to clean somewhat before leaving in full. The washed dishes have been placed upon a drying rag on your countertop. Your furniture righted to its proper positions. I straightened the table to be in more direct sunlight. You are welcome. I will also heed your advice on lifting the veil to drink. Wetted veil against the bare neck is uncomfortable.

Signed

Meryl, The Oracle of Thellin.

He smiled as he folded the note back up and tucked it away. On the one hand telling Beatrice about whatever budding relationship he had with the Oracle was inevitable. On the other, leaving a note with her signature and clear proof she had been in his home was asking for trouble. The one thing that confused him is where she got the paper from. He didn’t keep any kind of stationary in his home. Had she cleaned, left for stationary, then come back to leave a note? That was absolutely adorable if true. He pictured the mass of fabric’s heels clacking wildly around town after their conversation.

Daisy whined again and nipped at his calf. He swung the front door open and the hound surged through the opening. She bounded through the sand for a moment before sniffing at the spot she usually staked her claim on. Circling it a few times she took care of business. After kicking sand all over the beach the hound trotted over happily. Her tail wagged with glee as he looked down at her big brown eyes. She was still remarkably energetic for a twelve year old dog. He knelt down to scratch behind her ears as she grumbled happily. A few laps at his face showed the return of affection from his loyal companion.

Having had enough affection she took a few trots backwards and barked at him. She slumped into a fierce stance and prepared to bolt any direction. When he took a small step forward she flopped in the stance again. She raced around the sands and he gave a small chase to encourage her. The two launched sand in the air and zipped around under the sun. Letting her exercise those old bones in a safe and controlled environment was for the best. Her tongue lolled and tail wagged furiously as she flopped into her stance again. Another playful bark encouraged Wilkes to feint her out once, he shuffled about in place trying to get her to bolt early. After she did react to one feint, he lunged forward to the right when she expected him from the left. He leapt and managed to wrap his arms around her. She thrashed and playfully nipped at him. Unable to wriggle loose, she collapsed on the sand. Daisy seemed annoyed at having lost, but glad to have gotten to play with him again. His arms uncoiled from her sides and she lapped at his face again before he fully stood back up. She paused to scratch an itch behind her ear before continuing to follow him back into the house. She trotted over to her bed in the corner opposite from the dining room table and curled up for a nap. Clearly more tuckered out than her younger self would have been. He rapped gently against his door, Beatrice lifted her head lazily from the pillow it rested on. She had fallen back asleep it seemed.

“All tuckered out from last night huh?”

“Still sore, tryin ta sleep it off.”

“Hmm, how about some food? I’ve decided I’m working afternoon and evening with the lads so the morning and noon are ours.” Wilkes told her with a smirk. She leapt from the bed at the mention of food. Her nude form stupified him in the morning light. With a teasing smirk she dressed herself slowly. Her skirt rose slowly over those long, athletic legs. An intelligent “Guh” was all Wilkes could manage as she questioned him about something. She rolled her eyes while tapping him on the cheek. The simple touch kicked his brain back into gear.

“Whuh, uh yeah lunch here after getting bread at the bakery. I’ll batter and fry some fish.” He offered. She crossed her arms over her bare chest, accidentally pushing the glorious globes upwards. Again, his brain stalled. An annoyed huff as she pulled a loose tunic over her chest, she again repeated his question.

“I asked if you were sure my dad was okay with that. But if you’re content with being delegated to the chore and bore then sure let’s go on a date.” Beatrice huffed at him. She grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the door shirtless. She paused when she noticed the number of hickeys she had left on his neck, shoulders, and chest. He was unceremoniously dragged back inside and pulled his single sleeved shirt back on. An eyelid twitched on the half orc’s face.

“Tailor. Then food.” She ordered. He nodded in agreement. He took her hand again and the pair walked out the door. He swung the meeting of laced fingers idly as they walked. His eyes locked onto her. She had to carefully steer him around a few small potholes and obstacles. She fussed at him, but he was too busy thinking about how cute she looked when annoyed. The way her face scrunched up slightly, and how that made her tusks poke out at the corners of her mouth. He just smiled at her happily. A few onlookers saw him getting fussed at, but realized he was exactly where he wanted to be.

The couple opened the door to the tailor’s with a soft chime from a bell. The portly old fellow greeted them with a polite wave. His cheery face darkened when he saw the state of Wilkes’s sleeve. The solidarity of it caused a vein to bulge on the man’s forehead before he toddled over. He was a dwarf, particularly the only dwarf on thellin. Something about the sandy beaches and high heat didn’t mix well with the usually subterranean race. The tailor’s shop was relatively expansive, a nearly forty foot cube filled to the brim with bolts of fabric. The colors varied in intensity and hue. It looked as if a rainbow had been wringed for every last drop repeatedly, then dunked into its source and wrung out again. It was a bit overwhelming for the sailor who was used to his simple white shirt and brown pants.

“Good morning Mr.Redbeard, how are ye today?” Wilkes asked nervously as the dwarf paced in front of him. The dwarf stroked the famous red bit of facial hair. It was an impressive length even for a dwarf, coming down to the man’s knees and shining in the sun like fine silk.

“Lad, tell meh the honess te gods truth, it was ye that patched up the lass at the winery stall wadn’t it?” His voice was gruff and had a thick accent to it. Wilkes scratched at the back of his head while still clinging to Beatrice with his other. She gave a soft squeeze of encouragement.

“Yea, it was me. The poor lass had cut her hand on broken glass. What was I meant to do?” Wilkes started to argue. A second vein bulged alongside the first on the dwarf’s forehead.

“Wha was yae meant ta do? WHA YAE WAS MEANTA DO WAS NO GO DICIN UP ME HARD LABOR LIKE SOME CONFANGLED WHEEL O CHEESE ER CERD! YE HALF BRAINED, SAIL SETTING MORON!” Redbeard yelled at him furiously, the tailor dragged over a stool in his frustration. He immediately began to assess the damage to his work, noticing the frayed edges and loose threads he seemed to only get madder. The skin of his face quickly flushed the same color as his beard.

“OH YE HORN SWAGGLING DOLT! YE WENT AND FRAYED ME STITCHING, I GOTTA RIP IT OFF FROM THE SEAM AND START YE A WHOLE NEW SLEEVE! MIGH AS WELL BUY A NEW SHIRT FROM THE BOLT YE BLEEDING FOOL!”

An angry vein bulged on the huntress’s forehead as she listened to the list of insults grow longer. A firm hand set on the tailor’s shoulder as the half orc smiled down at him. Her tusks poked out from the grin like daggers gripped to strike. It was the same smile he saw repeatedly in the dark of the forest. As her bow loosened arrows towards him.

“Mr.Redbeard, I would remind you that Wilkes has been personally overseeing the arrival and shipment of your materials and works respectively. The fact your bell still chimes is a labor of his hands.” Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the man’s shoulder. “I suggest you assess the damage, give my lover a new shirt, or hell a new wardrobe of shirts, and be on with your day.”

Wilkes paled at the mention of multiple shirts. He was not living in squalor, sure, but each shirt cost ten pieces. With his weekly wage being fifty pieces. He still had to eat, feed Daisy, and take Beatrice on a date. His breathing stalled to halt. Perhaps if he held it he’d get paid more.

“Lass, let go a me shoulder before I cannae make any more clothes. Need my whole arm fer sewing after all.” The dwarf sounded annoyed rather than scared. His shop was fairly close to the town square, so violence here would’ve gotten fast attention from the town at large. He did clear his throat before turning back to Wilkes. “Look lad, I can replace yer shirt. Gonna have ta charge ye for the cost o’ material and if ye really are here fer more shirts I already got yer measurements on file. Can whip ‘em up by weeks end if ye need ‘em quick.”

“Right, I’d prefer the fixin up of this shirt rather than a whole new wardrobe full. If I had come into a windfall then sure, but well money’s as bountiful as always. Enough to feed myself and keep my share of the land taxes paid.” Wilkes explained, a nervous chuckle coming out of him as he looked into the intense glare of the dwarf.

“Hmm, but ye haed just gone about roughin up some of them bastards… the uh tide harvesters. Shouldn’t ye have gotten some sort of recompense from the navy?” Redbeard questioned, his eyes were focused hard onto Wilkes expression.

“ I did, but I have to commission a weapon as the Man of Will for Erik’s wedding, I was gonna spend the coin there.” Wilkes pushed back against the inquisitive gaze.

“So knowing ye had a wedding ta be seen in, yer water logged skull thought ta destroy yer only shirt? Were ye gonna wear yer boyhood toga ta the wedding?” Redbeard was incredulous at the nerve Wilkes had.

“Well no, I came to get this shirt fixed up before the wedding.”

“But yer gonna wear a workshirt… as the man of will?”

“Is that… wrong?”

“Wilkes… lad…”

“I tried to talk to him about it, but we, uhm, got distracted.” Beatrice weighed in, redbeard snorted. He sat on the stool now, stroking his beard again. Mulling over how to best explain it to Wilkes.

“Lad, ye gotta have a proper formal shirt for it. Erik has already come by for his, so I know the generals of what ye need to be looking like. He’s requesting a fitted navy blue tunic with a long sleeve linen undershirt in a dove gray. As the man of will ye need to have one of those two while choosing your own elements for the one ye don’t match. I recommend the tunic, as I already have three bolts in the proper color, it’d also serve ye well as yer own marriage tunic. Common practice here.” Redbeard said thoughtfully, a friendly gleam returning to his eye. He led wilkes around the shop showing different colored bolts of fabric and explaining the pros and cons of the fabrics.

“Wait, why're you bringing up my marriage tunic?” Wilkes asked the tailor, and he felt the hand holding his own tighten painfully. He grimaced as he slowly turned to face Beatrice.

“Yes redbeard, why would you ever mention marriage in front of Wilkes and His Courtship?” Beatrice snarled at the young sailor.

“Easy lass if ye break his hand I’ll be behind on fresh materials! I need tae finish three other wedding tunics and a collection of gowns before the next moon and I cannae do that if the dockhands are short of a man!” Redbeard growled at her

Her grip loosened as she huffed at them both. Wilkes gingerly rubbed his thumb against her hand. She softened slightly, her agitation wilting under his gentle touch. The tour went on like that for a while, he was stumped. He had agreed to get a wedding tunic in the same color as Erik for simplicity sake. The undershirt had him reeling. The colors were as numerous as the fish he’d caught. More shades of gray than he could even think of the name for. Somehow Redbeard had memorized them all. The other colors were just as plentiful.

“So ye said I gotta get a different color undershirt to be visibly different, but also compliment the groom right?” Wilkes asked tentatively. When the dwarf nodded he began to ponder further. A cool pale grey for Erik would mean maybe a warmer color for Wilkes. He glanced over to Beatrice for a moment, as she was working a length of navy fabric through her hands. The olive tone of her skin complimented nicely.

“Do you have anything in olive green? Rangpar and Beatrice have both told me I seem orcish, and that kind of color as an undershirt would probably look wonderful in the ceremony.” Wilkes mused. The tailor nodded his head furiously in approval.

“Aye lad, lemme get you some swatches, olive is a bit more of a range for green than you believe being a novice to this ordeal. One moment.” The dwarf toddled off to the section full of green. He came back with small bits of cloth that were all relatively the same color, but had visibly different texture. Some were smoother, one had a diamond pattern from how it was stitched together, and the third variety looked to be cotton. He was paralyzed between choices.

“What kind of Under fabric did Erik pick? Cotton right?”

“Er, no lad, he requested summer tweed for his undershirt. It's light and airy, breathable enough that he shouldn’t even sweat. Though I'm not sure I have that particular fabric in olive, it's easier to die in shades of grey or red because of its nature.” The dwarf explained, Wilkes frowned at the limitation.

“How breathable is the cotton you have in green? It gets hot here even during our cooler season so it shouldn’t be too heavy right?” Wilkes questioned, the dwarf nodded slightly.

“If you want a breathable green fabric, couldn’t you just buy it white or undyed and take it to the dye traders the next time you’re in port elsewhere Wilkes?” Beatrice questioned him

“I could if I were part of the main trade group Bea. I’m a fisherman, so I don’t leave the ship outside of hopping in the dinghy most of the time. I haven’t touched solid ground outside of Thellin and…” He trailed off, leaving the words to hang for a moment. She grimaced at drudging up the memory.

“Right, well maybe we could sail to a dye trader? The mainland is only a week’s voyage, so we could find one there. I’d just need to sell a few extra pelts and we’d both have to sweet talk dad to borrow the dinghy and some navigation supplies.” Beatrice offered sweetly “worst case i read the maps and you adjust the sails right?”

“Like hell, we’d need more than just the supplies we need an actual navigator! Bea I’m not as good on uncharted waters as I am on our fishing routes, I think I just need to pick a different color, or deal with a little extra heat.” He pushed back, the storm of an argument loomed on the horizon.

“Woah settle down mister one sleeve, you’re only looking for a proper shirt because I dragged you here after you decided to play hero again.”

“Play hero? Play hero? I am a hero!”

“I know that, you know that, everyone knows that, but you’re incredibly stubborn about being properly cared for! Let me help you!” She snapped at him

“I’m not arguing against being cared for, I'm telling ye how risky a two person voyage is! Especially with the tide reapers about!” Wilkes snapped back. He had been louder than he meant. Beatrice pulled her hand free from his. She started to walk away but Wilkes stopped her by taking a firm hold of her wrist. “Don’t run away like usual, talk to me. I get where yer coming from, I really do, but the waters aren’t safe and I… I can’t lose ye too.”

He took a shaky breath while still holding onto her wrist. Pleading in his mind that she’d turn around. That this whole thing wouldn’t blow out of proportion into another messy night. He knew that maybe they weren’t perfect for each other, but they were only nineteen and still figuring things out. Please just turn back to face him. She did, glaring at him. She wrenched her wrist from his hand.

“You think I don’t know that. Wilkes I personally stitched you back together after your last fight with them. But do you intend to live in fear the whole time? To just wait for the next fight instead of building things in the mean time? Are you just a soldier in your own war?”

He winced at the last question. The scars on his arms suddenly reminding him of their presence. A dull throb in his head left him unsure how to answer. In his heart he was more, he was a hero, a magician of sorts, and a sailor. In practice he had been doing little more than keeping himself fed and training for the next conflict. Sure he slept with Beatrice and played with Daisy some, but by and large he had been training in secret.