Pansy
Grab the tankards, crack the casks,
Got no place for tiny flasks!
Streams of ale and golden mead,
What more does a halfling need?
“ALL A HALFLING NEEDS”, TRADITIONAL HALFLING FOLK SONG
It was the night before the Harvest Festival, and for Pansy sleep seemed as distant a prospect as the nearly full moon suspended beyond the trees outside her bedroom window.
She lay on her back, staring sightlessly into the silver-tinged gloom that surrounded her. There was just so much that couldgo wrong tomorrow, a dozen different possibilities already crowding inside her skull, with plenty more on the way.
What if the pumpkin didn’t work? she wondered, turning over onto her side. What would she do then? It had been hard enough staying away from Haverow these past few ten-days, but the thought of never being able to return, not even to visit – that was unthinkable. Intolerable, really.
As much joy as living in her grandmother’s old cottage had brought her – a fact she owed largely to Ren, as living alone would never have suited her – at the end of the day, Pansy missed the people she’d grown up with. She missed her parents, her neighbors; Blossom, especially. Mrs. Millwood she could still do without, but one unpleasant old woman too set in her ways paled in comparison to all the good Pansy had left behind.
She let out a breath, hoping that it might unravel – or, at least, loosen – the knot that had formed in her belly. Unfortunately, it accomplished neither. Frustrated, Pansy rolled over again, now onto her other side, such that a familiar wall of blankets filled her vision.
In light of Ren’s heat-seeking toes, she’d given the wall some additional mass, reinforcing it against any would-be incursion from her goblin bedmate, whose unwillingness to retreat had turned the Battle for the Master Bedroom into an eternal stalemate. So far, the blanket wall had held fast, though Pansy suspected forcing an additional blanket on Ren had helped too. She smiled, remembering how vehemently Ren had protested against it; their moss blanket was quite sufficient, thank you! But, of course, she’d found them wrapped in it the following morning, swaddled as tightly as a pig-in-a-blanket.
A quick glance over the top of the wall proved that nothinghad changed on that front. But as Pansy settled back down, Ren’s sleeping form vanishing once more from sight, she found herself beset with a pang of longing. It would be easy to discount it as mere envy: Ren’s ability to drop into unconsciousness the moment their head hit the pillow was especially desirable, given Pansy’s present insomnia. But it wasn’t that.
Pansy’s lashes fluttered against her cheek as she brushed her fingers, tentative and light, over the blanket wall. With her ears full of Ren’s steady breaths, slow and even, she could almost imagine it was them beneath her palm instead. What would that be like? she wondered, her own breathing slowing to match theirs.
Her imagination rushed to provide her with an answer, transforming the warm weight of her blankets into the sensation of Ren’s arms slipping around her, pulling her close. She sank into the feeling, her limbs going slack. A brief indulgence wouldn’t hurt anyone; not when it only existed within the confines of her own mind.
But then she was waking up, squinting into the too-bright rays of morning with an unfamiliar pressure curled around her waist, too warm and too heavy to just be a tangle of bedding. Her vision focused, and she realized why. It wasn’t just a bunch of blankets, tossed around in the night; it was Ren’s arm.
Once again, the wall had fallen in the night. Only this time, it had come apart completely, and in its ruins lay Pansy and Ren, entangled in one another, with a sleeping Mushroom stretched out over their heads, like a fuzzy, black crown.
“You’re awake,” Ren’s voice rumbled from beside her, their eyes sliding open with the ease of someone who hadn’t been asleep for quite some time. So, why they hadn’t bothered shifting away?
The question swirled in Pansy’s mind, going round and round in a storm. She barely managed to squeak out a soft “Good morning” as her heart leapt into her throat, buoyed by a surge of heat that swept across her face in a red-hot stain.
“I didn’t want to wake Mushroom,” Ren explained, as if reading her mind, a bronze flush, less virulent than Pansy’s own, stretching across the bridge of their nose in turn. “I remember you were looking for him before bed last night. He was probably just on another adventure with Pig, but I figured seeing him would put your mind at ease.”
“Right. Of course.” Pansy nearly choked, acutely aware of Ren’s arm, still draped across her hip.
And there it remained for several long moments, not even so much as twitching as Pansy’s pulse thrummed beneath it, all the blood in her body seemingly pooling in that one spot. Then, Ren finally shifted, sending a gust of too-cool air across the space their arm had previously occupied, and asked, “Shouldn’t you head for the festival soon?”
The festival. Right. She’d nearly forgotten.
“You should come with me,” she blurted, the leaden knot of tension that had been building in the pit of her stomach unraveling all at once.
Ren froze, their dark eyebrows flying into the rumpled mess of their hairline. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” they said. “Look, I’ll help you load up the pumpkin into the wagon, but—”
“It’s your pumpkin too!” Pansy protested. “You should be there when it wins.”
They watched her for a moment, then sighed, their features collapsing into a softer, less guarded expression. “I don’t know, Pansy…”
Admittedly, Pansy hadn’t realized it back when she’d first come up with this plan, but every time she’d fantasized about winning first prize at the Halvenshire Crop Competition, Ren had been right there with her. It hadn’t even been a conscious decision on her part. They had simply been there, as naturally as her parents or Blossom. For Ren to not be by her side…
The possibility curdled in the pit of her stomach, sour like spoiled milk. Pansy couldn’t stand it. Shewouldn’t.
“I really want you there with me, Ren,” she said, earnest in a way she’d never been before; maybe even a little bit desperate, if she was being honest. The request scraped out of her, leaving her insides feeling strangely raw; or perhapsexposedwas a better way to describe it. Because, in that moment, she’d allowed herself to be vulnerable, bringing all that she’d left unsaid that much closer to the surface. Surely, Ren could see it, looking at her the way they were now, their face only a handful of breaths away.
