“My feet are fine!” Ren snapped, crossing their arms over their chest with a huff.
“Then they should have no problem staying on their half of the bed!” And with that, Pansy kicked the remaining dirt from her feet and flopped back onto her side, where she vanished once more beneath a crudely constructed fortress of wool and cotton.
“Whatever,” Ren grumbled, too late to be anything other than an admission of defeat.
Pulling both their moss blanket and the one Pansy had relinquished against them – because as much as they’d avoided admitting it aloud, itwaswarm – Ren settled down onto their back, the mirrorsponge slab creasing in a precise reflection of their form. At that point, sleep should have claimed them. It was the middle of the night, and they were exhausted. And yet, somehow they found themself staring blankly at the ceiling, their pulse a dull, warm roar in their ears.
Earlier, Pansy’s presence beside them had scarcely registered. If anything, it was… comforting not to be alone, an imperfect echo of their sleeping arrangements back in the caves, where their clan slept at least three or four to one bedroll. But now, she plucked at the fringes of Ren’s consciousness; each rustle of fabric, each measured exhale another anchor to the waking world.
Why couldn’t Ren just forget about her and go to sleep?
It was that damnable blanket, they decided, fingers curling into its soft cords. No wonder the halfling weighed so heavilyon their thoughts. Right now, Ren couldn’t even take a breath without being reminded of her, the way she smelled of honey and spices. She’denvelopedthem. Completely and absolutely. And, somehow, Ren couldn’t bring themself to hate it; not in the way they should’ve.
As if this situation needed further complications…
And here I am collecting them as easily as a badger collects burs, Ren thought, forcing their eyes shut in the hope that their ever-spinning brain might finally take a hint.
Maybe it would have – eventually – if a sudden, explosive snort hadn’t spurred them back into wakefulness. Ren’s eyes snapped open, pupils flaring wide.
Had Pig decided to make her way upstairs? So far, Ren’s companion had shown a distinct preference for the cottage’s lower level. But the two of them had only been living here for a couple of days; hardly long enough to declare, with any sort of certainty, that Pig would never venture upstairs.
Ren’s brow had only just started to furrow when the sound repeated, unleashed into the world with the same amount of violence as before. And they realized that it was coming from beside them, on the other side of the blanket wall.
Pansy wassnoring.
Shaking their head, Ren settled back down and let out a long, drawn-out breath. “Maybe I’m a blanket thief, but at least I don’t snore…”
5
Pansy
“Did you hear about the Dawnhammer girl? Bad enough when one of our own runs off with one of those arrogant leaf lickers, but ahalfling? Right shameful, that. No wonder they eloped. Doubt the soft-handed pipsqueak could’ve evenliftedthe sealing hammer for a proper dwarven wedding, much less forged the iron into shape. And don’t get me started about the boy’s ability to provide for the poor lass…”
CONVERSATION OVERHEARD IN THE DWARVEN CITY OF GARN BORAM
The walk back to Haverow – though longer than Pansy would’ve liked – was easier than expected. This time she wasn’t weighed down by nearly half-a-dozen bags, all crammed to the hilt with too many “necessities” to be truly deserving of the name. Instead, she had only her wicker basket: empty fornow, but certainly not for much longer. Pansy had a kitchen to stock, and stock it she would. She could hardly call the place her domain otherwise.
It was still early by the time she made it to the village proper, where the dusty, dirt roads of the rolling countryside transitioned to familiar mossy cobblestones. Even though the dawn mists had only just begun to disperse around beams of pale, yellow sunlight, the streets of Haverow were far from empty. Farmers, off to tend their fields while the weather was still cool, nodded politely at Pansy as she passed them by, as did many of her former neighbors, already tackling their day-to-day chores. No one, not even the trio of pram-pushing mothers who spent nearly every morning, from what Pansy could tell, discussing the latest village gossip, commented on her recent move – not until she made it to the village square.
There she found one of the local councilors, Mrs. Dorothy Millwood, squat and silver-haired, pinning a large, colorful poster to the village noticeboard.
“Returning home already?” Mrs. Millwood asked, her mouth stretching into a simpering imitation of a smile that didn’t even so much as disturb the wrinkles around her eyes. “I’m not surprised that old cottage isn’t all you cracked it up to be.”
“Oh, no. I’m just doing some shopping,” Pansy replied, lifting her basket for emphasis. She clamped down hard on the urge to be impolite, reaching for that too-pleasant mask Haverow always seemed to demand of her.
Mrs. Millwood’s smile flattened along with her voice. “I see.”
“The cottage is lovely, by the way,” Pansy continued, unable to help herself. “Can you believe it’s still in perfect condition?”
Mrs. Millwood sniffed, disapproval budding beneath her beak-like nose. “That’s all well and good, but a young halflinglike yourself shouldn’t be so far from home. When I was your age, I didn’t eventhinkabout leaving my parents’ burrow until I was married! Speaking of—”
Oh no. This again. After she’djustgotten her own mother to drop the subject. “Councilor Millwood, I really—”
But it was too late. As far as Mrs. Millwood was concerned, Pansy hadn’t said a peep. Her tirade continued unimpeded. “You should start thinking about settling down, Pansy. You’re already nearly thirty and still without a partner. Surely you want to give your parents grandchildren sooner rather than later; while they’re still hale and hearty—”
“Your concern, Councilor Millwood,” Pansy began, raising her voice just enough to put a stop to the elderly halfling’s rambling, “while appreciated, is entirely unnecessary. Thank you.”
“Are you sure?” Mrs. Millwood pressed, her eyes widening with misplaced concern. “Your mother did mention that you were still looking. My nephew over in Oakton is around your age, and he really is quite strapping, very handy in the kitchen and in the fields—”
