by Lars M.
The tiny kobold nodded. "The Fallen are not looking for handouts. We've fought over scraps for years - sometimes decades. We will earn our rights and a place in Grant's Crossing - but it's tough to get started without help. How about we, as a group, promise to repay the full amount for any Fallen who can't or won't do it himself?"
He sat there, listening intently, tapping his jaw. "So it would be a collective debt instead of a personal one? That might... hm." He cut his thought off and instead asked, "Say that works - what would stop any single kobold or group from reneging on their deal?"
"I've got this one," I interspersed. "Arack, would the Fallen be willing to swear in the name of Thracken?"
She nodded, and then a smile lit up her face. "We could even make it, like, a requirement for receiving a loan."
"Gillem, I suggest you ask Mallard what their deity, Thracken, thinks about oathbreakers and exactly what this means. Maybe even sober up Greck and ask him, if you dare. Till then, just take this on faith: if a kobold swears in the name of Thracken, odds are he's dead serious."
It was starting to dawn on Gillem that he was facing a unified front and his eyes alternated between the two of us. Finally, he threw his hands in the air. "Fine. You win. It's not like I wanted to turn you down in the first place. I'll take it before the Council, and I'll do my darndest to see it succeed. No promises, though."
"Thank you, my friend. I knew you could be depended upon to do the right thing."
He scoffed. "Bah. Bullied by my best friend and a teenager. This day can't get any worse." He smirked as he said it, though. Then his demeanor turned grim and he rounded on Arack. ”Now, you made your point just then, but I want you to listen. Don’t ever do that again to anybody here in Grant’s Crossing. It’s theft, and we don’t take well to it.”
Chastised, but defiant, Arack nodded. After a final round of details, Gillem left us alone. I enjoyed a short bout of self-congratulations, as I had just received a skill increase of +2 to barter. Looked like that had been a great deal.
I waggled my finger at Arack with a grin. "You crafty little thing. That was well done. Bonus points for pilfering his rings as well."
She rubbed the back of her neck. "Thank you. Erm... He's not the type to, like, hold a grudge or anything, is he?"
I thought back to earlier in the day and lied through my teeth with a smile. "Nah. Gillem's a saint. Look, you've impressed me. You've earned a nice experience. Want to come meet a friend?"
Chapter 6 – Different Strokes…
I checked back in with Atlas on the way out. I'd left him to enjoy the midday sun on the rooftop while I was rushing to mollify Chertog, and I'd decided not to bring him. Usually, he'd have been ecstatic to join me on my errands. We were planning a visit to Naevys, the local elven druidess, followed by music, and later, a visit to a certain half-orc temptress who was liberal with her head scratches. Right now, however, he was busy and completely out of reach. He'd located a handful of flying squirrels who were interrupting his rest, pelting him with nuts and fleeing. I could tell he relished the enjoyment of hunting them down and putting them in their place. Food might also be an option. It wasn't like I minded too much. Having Atlas around when Darya was there could easily be a bit... awkward. Above all, if things progressed to more physical activities. Ahem.
Naevys was home when we arrived. I really wanted Arack to like her and hoped that they would get along. Hence, I didn't mind if the petite elf was able to make a good first impression. I might have underestimated her abilities to make an impact, however. She wasn't puttering about inside her wooden home when we came knocking. The lilting melody weaving through the branches left no doubt in which direction we could find her.
Truth be told, I'd forgotten all about the batch of eggs we'd delivered to Naevys. It was a quest requirement and... well, it's not like you tend to stick around in games to see what happens afterwards, right? I wasn't likely to forget about them from now on, however. Naevys was seated within a depression, playing her flute, surrounded by a broiling mass of vipers. Arack squawked, grabbing for her weapons, while I instantly started sweating and reached for my violin. Only then did I notice the look on Naevys' face. She was happy. Serene. Positively peaceful. From looking at her, you wouldn't be able to guess that she was placed within a moving circle of death. I motioned for Arack to take a seat and we silently sank down to wait until Naevys decided to end... whatever she was doing.
Sure enough, two minutes later, she popped an eye open and winked at me. She then stood up, stretched, and took a large step over the pile of animals. "My wayward teacher! I had thought you lost to the wild beasts and half-orcs of the forest."
I blushed. "Oh. Darya's already been by to update you, then. Apologies for my absence. Things have been... hectic."
She waved away my concerns and walked straight over to hold my hands. "I know. I am also aware that I told you to treat Darya well the first time we met. Your methods may be unorthodox, but I approve." And - that was it. No further questions about how I'd been, nothing about the kobolds, nothing. Her reddish blond hair bobbed about her face as she seated herself crosslegged right before the now-cautious Arack. She carefully cocked her head, inspecting the young kobold thoroughly, as if assessing her. She talked while she stared. "Damaged, undoubtedly. Wiry, though. Root stays strong."
"Naevys, you're being impolite." I admonished. Arack was clearly uncomfortable with the inspection.
"Shush. Hmm. Damaged outer shell, too. Heavy negative influence. Only..." Her voice trailed off as a huge smile lit her face, transforming her ageless elven visage into that of an exuberant teenager as she whispered. "Pure." She approached Arack, kneeled, and enfolded her in a huge hug.
Over Naevys' shoulder, Arack stared at me in a way that clearly said "help me." I grinned at her, only too happy that Naevys was baffling somebody else for a while with her antics.
After a moment, the elf sprang up and cupped Arack's face. "I am so glad you all made it here safely – you, especially. Most plants that are forced to endure harsh conditions for a prolonged period will develop sicknesses and flaws. Once in a while, however, a rare shoot like yourself flourishes, despite everything. What is your name?"
I butted in, "Her name is Arack. I was sort of forced to adopt her."
"Forced to, old man?" Arack was quick to escape the unfamiliar situation and tease me instead. "You had a choice, and you proved that your brain actually works - sometimes."
"If you say so, pipsqueak. See, Naevys, I've been telling her about everything, but I haven't had the chance to show her all the important places and people of the village. Besides, I seem to recall that I owe you a lesson or two?"
Naevys clapped her hands in childlike glee. "Wonderful. I was starting to lose hope. Arack, the adults are about to play music for a long time. It is the prerogative of any bored spawn to explore without thoughts to the consequences. Do take the chance to find some trouble."
"She means that you're free to stroll around this place if you get bored." I turned towards Arack. "Even with the Vipers, though? I mean, they're almost three meters long now."
"Pfah. Unlike you half-breeds, I am in touch with my natural side. No animal within my ranges will harm Arack - especially those vipers. Their minds are at peace."
Comforted, I gestured towards Naevys' home. The petite elf actually skipped as she preceded me. Arack straggled behind, clearly intrigued with the weird girl. Once we'd descended the huge, twisting roots leading down into her structured chaos, I proffered my violin towards Naevys.
She refused with a smile and walked to a cluttered corner, where her delicate hands unwrapped an item swaddled in cloth. With a flourish, she produced – another violin. Beaming, she said, "Davinia - Lyle's mother, you know - owed me a favor from back when I helped her give birth. Somehow, she figured out that I was - ah, the backstory is unimportant. Look at her, Arcangelo. Isn't she wonderful?"
I reverently accepted the item. It was clearly an aged, well-worn, and much-repa
ired instrument. Nothing magical about this one, but it did attest to a life of being used often. It was also filled with charm and suited the tiny elf perfectly. "Beautiful." I let my hands go through a procession of chords. "This is lovely. She matches you so well. The tuning pegs look like they could do with a replacement, but there's no rush." I sat down in front of Naevys and cleared my throat. "I've made a mistake, Naevys." She raised an eyebrow, and I continued. "Yeah, I've been going about this the wrong way, teaching you the exact way I've been taught. Pits, I almost used the same words today to start out the way my teacher always did. 'So, have you been practicing?'" I shook my head in remembrance of all the times those words had caused my guilty conscience to flare up. "The traditional learning techniques are good in some areas – establishing proper handwork and increasing the difficulty bit by bit. They're also frigging boring. Odds are, you'd dump that wonderful instrument in frustration within a couple of months."
Naevys' heart-shaped face beamed with approval. "So what do we do?"
"What millions of teachers world-wide have failed to do since time immemorial." Hefting my own violin, I grinned at her. "We make learning fun."
I'll admit to a certain love of hyperbole. Plenty of teachers and teaching schools have spent years and decades on developing teaching methods that make learning easier, more effective and more fun. Sometimes even two out of three at the same time. What I did was, of course, to blatantly rip off any part of any teaching school that I’d liked and scrapped everything else. I'd had my own stint of learning about learning when my parents stopped paying for my lessons and had spent enough time online to get to know a few different theories and approaches.
In the end, I focused on the necessity of building awareness of your own body and theoretical approach from string pedagogy, coupled with the principles from the Suzuki philosophy. Sure, that philosophy was created for children, but I had a feeling it'd fit her persona like a glove. Oh, and on top of that, I added all the silly learning games I could remember.
Arack was there for most of it. I included her as much as possible, and she took delight in a clapping game where she set the rhythm and Naevys and I played along in a melody of our own choosing. Even so, we did go heavy on the theory after a while, and Arack snatched the chance to go exploring. At a certain point, Naevys became disgusted with her lack of progress and we switched roles, letting her guide me to a better singing voice. I thought that my singing had improved after the hours of entertainment I'd provided in Nerit. Naevys... was not as impressed. She had me practicing an entirely different way of breathing for singing, pushing and prodding me to ensure that I was using the right muscles. "This can't be right. You've only let me sing a handful of scales, and I feel exhausted!" I wasn't exaggerating, either. My stamina was down to a third, and I was feeling a bit light-headed.
She gave me an overbearing smile. "Time, my young Arcangelo. Give it time. Practice will ensure that you use your muscles correctly. When you sing, however – how does it feel?"
"Like I have too much air in my lungs?"
She touched my shoulder. "You have all the right information at hand and still manage to arrive at the wrong conclusion. Must be the human part of you."
"Naevys! Really? Isn't that a terribly racist thing to say?" I shook my head with a slight smile.
"Only if I am wrong. My misguided friend, at long last, you have correct posture and you breathe like you should. Like a crooked tree that is finally exposed to sunlight and water, your voice will finally be able to flourish and grow. With the proper guidance, needless to say."
We took turns as teachers after that, continuing until the sun was starting to lose its strength. Finally, Naevys put the violin aside and stretched, languid as a cat. "Yessss. Harrah witness, I needed this. Now, as much as I would like to keep you to myself, I believe Darya usually returns to her camp around this time."
"Am I that obvious?"
"Only to somebody with eyes." Her infectious giggle had me laughing along with her. "I approve. She has been happier these past days. See you tomorrow?"
"I hope so – I've enjoyed my lessons. Any parting wisdom? Advice on what to do with the kobold situation?"
She seated herself, crosslegged, and closed her eyes, thinking deeply. "Yes. I do have one piece of advice that would be beneficial to the mental well-being of one of the kobolds."
"O-kay?"
"I suggest you let Arack go back to the village, so she doesn't have to watch you two going on."
"Naevys..." I glared at her, but she continued, undeterred.
"It's that human nature again, I believe. Really, you ought to be furry, like rabbits."
"Naevys!"
As soon as possible, I fled. The elf, having had her fun, was able to pinpoint Arack's presence with surprising accuracy. The young kobold was seated halfway to the top of a huge pine tree, fast asleep against the tree trunk. I managed to wake her gently, and we agreed to meet up at the tavern the day after. On my way towards the clearing, I chortled at my own burgeoning anticipation. Since our return, I hadn't had the chance at anything but a fleeting encounter with Darya – or rather, Mila, her real name. She'd retreated from all the hubbub in the village with the message that she needed a breather from being around people all the time, and for me to come visit. I tried not to allow myself to think too hard on the future. Instead, I distracted myself by examining how both Teacher and Singing had increased – Teacher, even by two.
Approaching Darya’s encampment, I contemplated sneaking up on her to surprise her... and reconsidered. With my clumsiness, the attempt was certain to end up sitcom-worthy, with me arse-up, stuck in a shrubbery. I cleared my throat and spoke out loud, "Parley?"
A rustle was immediately followed by a loud laugh. "Parley? Really? Are we fighting?"
"No, but it was shorter than yelling 'Please tell me if you've planted any new traps that are about to eviscerate my blind behind.'"
"Ha. Enter, my prey. I mean… pray, enter."
Pushing aside the thick bushes, I entered her clearing. The half-orc knelt in front of a pile of firewood, working furiously at... something. The fading light of the day threw shadows on the scene, and I froze, just admiring her profile and concentration. On an impulse, I used my Photographic Memory to keep this moment for a bit.
Darya glanced up and blushed. "Stop staring, you dunce. Come over here."
"Sure. What are we doing?"
"Inventing fire. And before you come up with some horrible joke, this is practice for my class quest - learning how to make fire from nothing without tools. Only, I'm starting to get a headache, and I'm thinking it was a dumb idea to begin with."
"Well, I am the master of dumb ideas - I could surely come up with some advice." In spite of my ribbing, I sat down beside her and leaned forward to observe. One hand held a sharpened stick in place within a slight depression in a wooden board. Her other hand worked some sort of rude bow stringed with twine back and forward in a sawing motion. The stick was held by the twine, and the motion caused the stick to drill down into the depression. "Oh. Clever. Want me to take over for a bit?"
She shook her head, causing a droplet of sweat to fall from her forehead. "I really do, but switching would let the heat disappear and ruin all the work."
Grunting, I admitted, "Fair enough. Not much I can do to help, but I can at least give your muscles a break." I stood up and started working over her neck muscles, trying to alleviate some of the tension. While there was no denying I'd always been a bit of a weakling, I was well used to working with my hands.
We sat in silence for a spell, as I concentrated on the massage and Darya on the fire-to-be. After a couple of minutes, an excited squeak escaped her, and over her shoulder, I could see a tiny waft of smoke rising from the board.
She redoubled her efforts. "Hurry. Take some of the kindling and tuck it in right around the stick."
I did as ordered, and before we knew it, a tiny piece of kindling took fire. Then it was just a matter of sitting
back and watching the process as the brawny half-orc built the tiniest of sparks into a roaring blaze. Five minutes later, Darya sat back with a sigh. "Wow. Heh. Why did I think this was a good idea in the first place?"
"Hmm - because you guessed I was coming and wanted the mood to be properly authentic?"
"Hah. Sure, let's go with that. Nice job of avoiding the old 'so you could cook dinner, woman,' joke, by the way."
I bowed. "Appreciated. Wait… Was this some kind of test? Because I suck at those."
She snorted. "No, thank you. Men are confusing enough as they are, without adding tests and deliberate obfuscation into the mix."
"Thank God. I hope you don't mind me hanging around for a bit, though. I've got this recurring quest thing, where Greck is willing to take some time from his busy schedule to teach me – if I provide him with some suitably fancy alcohol. Now, I know nothing about red wine, but the quest has resulted in me getting away with some new sorts of alcohol. This one," I proffered the final bottle from the warlock's basement, "certifies as fancy. No doubt about it. Care for a glass?"
Darya stood up from where she had been working and brushed off flecks of ash and tiny pieces of kindling. In an affected tone of voice, she asked, "Why, Daniel... are you trying to get me drunk?"
I looked from the bottle towards her and back, then said with enthusiasm, "Yes!"
"Well... challenge accepted. If those soft hands don't mind a bit of work, I might even be able to offer a halfway decent dinner. There's a knife and a sack of tubers right over there. That's the local version of po-tay-toes, in case your fast-food-addicted brain forgot."
The banter shot back and forth between us as we settled into an easy rhythm, preparing dinner together. Soon, we had a giant pan sizzling over the fire. We added a handful of diced fresh onions to the peeled and sliced tubers and fried everything alongside a large fish, freshly caught that morning. A plate of shoots and herbs were waiting to be added to the mix. Soon, we were sprawled comfortably under her lean-to on a pile of blankets, each with our own huge plate and mug of wine.
