Chip & Lenard

“Oh,” the man said, scratching his chin scruff. “How droll. He didn’t even put up much of a fight.” “Because he had his back turned.” his compatriot said, sheathing the rapier into his belt.
“That is true,” the other said, kicking at the lifeless body with a lazy swing. “But the way they made it seem was much worse. ‘A giant Fae-warped man with the ability to rip up trees with his hands.’ seems like he wouldn’t die from a sword in his back.”
“Most people think a sword in the back isn’t good enough until they’ve had one through them.” Lenard pulled his knife from the other side of his hip, and sliced through the cauliflower-ike ear of the corpse. “This should be more than enough proof for the ealdorman.”
“Are we going to camp for the night? I’m rather tired.”
“Chip, you didn’t even have to do anything.”
“I most certainly did! Casting spells isn’t all ‘words and waving’ as you put it last time. It draws off my very essence, and last I checked, he would’ve heard us a mile away with our loud and clanky arses! You can thank my spells for your sneakery, you bemput¹!”
“And I’m grateful for it, but last I checked, our supplies are low and our reward waits in Bellend. We haven’t time to waste.”
Chip sighed, and both of them began their walk down the hillside forest, to the path back to civilization. The twilight colors of the sun gave a peaceful backdrop as the men listened to the ambience of birds and bees.
“Lenard,” Chip said, after they’d gone a ways down the road.
“Mm?”
“Suppose we get the bounty,” Chip paused for a moment, kicking a rock with his hoof. “Do ya think we could take a wander down to me da’s burrow?”
“You know the answer to that.”
“Well, I was thinking, if I was disguised real well, and you spoke fer me-”
“You know they’ll find you anyways, Chip. We can’t risk being around any Inquisitor’s. They’ll sniff you out, especially in a burrow full of non-magic users. No one in your home even practices rune-carving, which we could argue holds some magical energy.”
“Yeah,” Chip's head lowered, his voice getting softer than before. “You’re right.”
They continued their journey for some while, the sun sinking ever lower. Before long, the sounds of horses, drawing just as many loads, filled their ears. The men turned to see a common sight in the northern areas of Eropei, a caravan of Avaru’s, the wagon-homes of the Er’aelva.
“Maybe we can join them,” Lenard said, raising his arm to greet them.
“Make sure not to romance any of their daughters this time though.” Chip nudged him with a slight chuckle. Lenard smiled as Chip said it, his eyes still turned to the wagon train. As the leading wagon drew closer, the man guiding the horse pulled it to a gentle stop.
“Aye?” he said, spitting to the side of the road. “Can I help you?”
“I do believe so, Mo fayr maiht², my companion and I were wondering if there was room in your caravan for two more weary travelers?”
The man shifted his blue headwrap, and leaned down to the two. “Whom would I be ferrying, and to what end?”
“Excuse my manners,” Lenard placed a hand to his chest, and bowed his head. “I go by Lenard Merfildi, and the man traveling with me is a Dwaervish mason by the name of Chip Clagchach, who I have the pleasure of guarding till the city of Bellend.”
“A fortunate turn for you,” the man’s eyes squinted as the sun cast shadows. “We ride to Bellend as well.”
“The Archer smiles upon us this day,³” Lenard exclaimed, hands clasped. Glancing at Chip, who stood silent in all this, Lenard nudged him to mimic the movement, to which he grunted before putting his hands together.
“Aye, she does. Climb in the back,” the man motioned to the rear of the avaru. “My daughter can give you something to eat, should you be hungry.”
“Many thanks,” Lenard said, moving Chip along with him to the back. The man made a quick noise to draw their attention before they could go in. “Yes?” Lenard asked, sticking his head from the corner of the wagon.
“I’d prefer to keep the company of one of you,” the man said. “And I’m sure a hired sword would do better than a mason.”
Chip stood on the first step to the door, smiling at Lenard with all the subtlety of a jester in a funeral. “Looks like no swooning for you,” he whispered, a snicker escaping as he said it. Lenard looked at him with a sharp glance, and went to the front of the wagon. Chip turned to the door, and proceeded to enter, announcing himself as he did. “Hello? Dunnae be alarmed, your da invited me i-” The last word fell to the floor as the door opened the rest of the way, at the feet of the only person inside. To say Chip was dumbfounded, would imply he had ever lost his stupor. But the girl-no, the young woman in front of him threw his sense out entirely.
Her long black hair curled down her back in a loose braid, reaching the small of her back. Around it, a silvery cord ran from one ear to the next, pulling them into a tight point at the tops. Her dress was a darker reddish brown, sporting inlaid floral patterns. Both were statue-like, as both were likely a surprise to the other.
Though not well versed in the culture, once the stunned dwaerf regained his composure, he turned his eyes from the lady. “My apologies miss,” he said, putting his hands to his eyes. “I dinna mean to see you without your wrap.”
“It’s alright.” came a calm reply. “I’m not worried about it. Though don’t let my father find out, otherwise he’ll have you pulling the wagon.” Chip pulled his eyes from his hands, to see the girl wrapping her hair tightly atop her head, and setting the traditional headdress around it. “Not even Lenard’s seen an Er’aelvan girl without her headwrap, I’d wager.” Chip thought to himself. "And none as fair as this one."
“Anyways,” the girl continued. “I’m Riona, and who might you be?”
“I’m Chip, miss. Me and my friend were traveling back to Bellend when your father happened upon us.”
“Chip, that’s an interesting name. Are you from Bellend, Chip?”
“No, miss. I’m from a small burrow a ways from Burrovine proper. And me da gave me the name, saying I was a ‘chip off his block’ so to speak. An old stonemason's pun.”
“I’ve always wanted to go south,” she said, patting at a stool for the man to sit on. “What are you doing so far north?”
“She’s very direct,” Chip thought. “Work, miss. I had use of my craft here, for a decent pay too. Well worth the journey from home.” Chip’s stool sat with ample space between him and Riona, though the warm feeling in his cheeks, and the uncomfortably kind smile of hers made it seem as if she was a hair away from his face. The kind smile soon turned his thoughts to the tumorous face of the Fae monster they’d slain not long ago, and so he made a bid to change the topic. “Have you been to the city before?”
“Bellend? Oh yes, I’ve been going with my father to work there for nearly two years now. I’m in love with the culture and busy lifestyle of the people.” Her eyes seemed to drift somewhere else as she spoke. “Though I do think I’d go a wee bit daft if I lived there too long. My friend Corsia has been trying to convince me to live in the city as of late, but I’m not sure about that.”
“Take it from me, miss. If you’ve anything different from the ‘people’ of Bellend, or any city like it, then it’s best to stay away.” Chip’s voice trailed with pain.
“I’ve noticed that some aren’t too fond of outsiders,” Riona said, her own tone similar to his. “But I’ve also had wonderful experiences, and seen things I’d never see out in the wilderness.”
“It’s dangerous, trust me.”
“So are the forests, yet I feel safe among the trees. Of course, I’m no fool, otherwise I wouldn’t carry protection.” She pulled a small sheath from her belt. The handle of a dagger, with the silvery design of an arrow splitting.
“Have you ever used that?” Chip asked
“Not yet,” she put the sheath back onto her belt, then leaned closer to him. “But I like to think it’s because I’ve got an intimidating stare.”
“Aye, intimidating.” Chip looked at the sparkle of her eyes, a light brown like an amber citrine.