Chapter 3 #2
“And now it kind of feels the same way. Like your sister is stealing your best friend from you.” Strangely, Pip didn’t laugh. Instead she wrapped her free hand around his arm, tugging him closer.
“It’s silly, I know.” Fieran exhaled, trying to relax the tightness inside him. “Their romantic relationship is completely different than our friendship. And I’m not losing a friend. I could gain the best brother a man could ask for. It’s just…”
“Complicated, given how long the lot of you have been friends. And family.” Pip paused for a moment before she burst into laughter.
“See. I told you that you’d laugh.” Fieran found himself smiling. Talking it over with Pip was helping. He didn’t want to resent Merrik and Adry’s relationship at all. Especially since he was rather in favor of it. This was his own problem he had to work through.
“I’m not laughing at that.” Pip waved a hand at where Merrik and Adry had paused at an open-fronted booth selling elven shampoos and conditioners. “Let me guess. Merrik was the one who played the peacemaker and tried to stop your childhood fights with Adry?”
“Yes…” Fieran dragged out the word, his smile growing.
“Poor man. He’s willingly signing up to keep doing that the rest of his life.” Pip shook her head, an exaggerated sorrowful expression on her face.
“He’d likely do that anyway. This just makes it more convenient.” Fieran found himself grinning and hurrying his and Pip’s pace so that they could catch up with the others.
Just as they caught up with Merrik and Adry, Lt. Rothilion and Mak meandering a few paces ahead of them, a voice called out over the crowd a moment before Stickyfingers, Lije, and Aylia hurried up to them.
“No moving picture?” Fieran raised his eyebrows.
“The tickets for the first few showings were already sold out.” Lije dug into a pocket before he pulled out a ticket. “But we got tickets for the 14:00 showing. It should end just in time for us to catch the truck back.”
“Most of the others who didn’t get tickets decided to go to one of the taverns.” Stickyfingers shrugged, his hands stuck in his pockets, a rather disappointed slump to his shoulders.
“We decided to track all of you down instead.” Aylia grinned, her long hair drifting around her. “So where are you headed?”
“Some of the dwarves set up booths, and we were going to try to find them.” Pip gestured at the street ahead of them.
“See? I knew you’d be doing something fun.” Aylia fell into step with them, Lije and Stickyfingers falling in behind them.
Well, this date was getting rather crowded. Fieran shared a look with Pip, shrugged, and they set off once again.
After wandering the narrow dirt streets for a while and finally asking for directions, they located the street where the dwarves had set up open-fronted, rather ramshackle booths.
This alley was quieter, tucked far into the labyrinth of the growing entertainment town. The booths left the street too narrow for vehicles, leaving the pedestrians free to wander as they wished. With such a large group, they spread out among the various booths.
Stickyfingers, Lije, and Aylia wandered a section of booths with various dwarven foods and drinks. Mak waved and halted by a booth, striking up a conversation in dwarvish with the male dwarf behind the booth. Perhaps he was another Detmuk dwarf since he and Mak seemed to know each other.
Lt. Rothilion drifted with his hands clasped behind his back, staying several feet away from the booths as he perused without taking a specific interest in any of them.
Fieran gripped Pip’s hand and let her tug him where she wanted.
First across the street to try dwarven salt taffy.
Then kitty-corner across the way to look at an array of metal objects.
Across the street again to look at a booth with small figurines carved out of rock.
The random, scattered, excited way of viewing the booths suited him just fine.
Pip tugged him to the next booth over, their clasped hands still somewhat sticky from the taffy. “Ooh! Look at these!”
This booth held an array of leather armor items. Merrik and Adry were already there, examining one of the leather bracers.
“Those look great.” Fieran reached to pick up one of the bracers, but Adry bumped him hard enough to halt him.
She shot him a look that was part annoyed, part teasing. “I was looking at them first.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t look too.”
“It does if I intend to buy a set.” Adry’s eyes flared with more heat. “You don’t need to have the same things as me.”
On the other side of Adry, Merrik huffed. “The two of you can share, you know.”
Adry raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re supposed to be on my side now.”
“I am on the side of sense. As I have always been.” Merrik spoke in a flat tone, but the slight upward curve to his mouth gave him away. “Which, in most cases, is neither side.”
“Ouch. I’d be offended but…” Adry smirked at Fieran. “He has us there.”
Fieran nodded and grinned back. “Admit it. We wouldn’t know what to do without Merrik’s sense.”
Pip nudged Fieran’s arm and whispered, “Like I said. Poor Merrik.”
Fieran laughed, the mirth bubbling inside him washing away the last of his snappiness with his sister. He really shouldn’t be childish about this.
He picked up a bracer with dwarven, geometric designs tooled into the leather. The bracer weighed more than he’d expected, and he nearly dropped it.
The dwarf behind the booth, still shooting glances between Fieran and Adry, gestured. “The bracers are layered with reticulated, thin metal reinforced with dwarven magic. Guaranteed to stop an ax from chopping off your hand.”
“Handy if you are invested in not losing any more limbs.” Merrik reached out and traced a finger over a bracer with an elven tree design.
“How about this?” Pip placed a hand on Fieran’s arm, glancing from him to Adry. “As long as the two of you don’t have the same design…”
Merrik shot Pip a grateful look, as if he was thankful that he would have at least one sensible ally in his peacekeeping.
“Works for me.” Adry picked up another set of the bracers with the elven trees on them. She dug into her pocket. “I’ll take two sets in this design.”
“Adry…” Merrik’s low voice held a fond warning.
“Don’t blame me for wanting to spoil my boyfriend.” Adry pressed a kiss to Merrik’s cheek before she plunked the money down on the table before the dwarf, claimed her two sets of bracers, and tugged on Merrik’s hand. “You can always spoil me right back if you feel you must.”
Merrik was still grinning as Adry dragged him away to the next booth.
“Decided to join Merrik in playing peacemaker?” Fieran rubbed a thumb over the geometric design on the bracer.
“If this is going to be the way of things, I figured Merrik might as well not stand alone in that.” Pip grinned before she pointed at the bracer in Fieran’s hand as she turned toward the dwarf. “And I’ll take that set.”
“Pip, I…” Fieran wasn’t sure how to protest. Or if he wanted to. “You don’t have to.”
“I can’t let Adry be the only one spoiling her boyfriend.” Pip touched the wrench pendant on the necklace he’d given her. “Besides, you’ve already spoiled me. It’s time I returned the favor.”
“Then, linshi.” Fieran collected the bracers from the dwarf. With the geometric dwarven designs, it would be as if he wore Pip’s colors.
As they stepped away from the booth, a fit of hacking and coughing broke out across the street.
Stickyfingers, gagging and choking, stuck his head halfway into a nearby trash barrel and retched. Lije was coughing, eyes watering, as he braced himself against the post of the booth.
“What’s going on? Are you guys all right?” Fieran called to them, taking a step in that direction.
“They’re fine. Probably.” Pip winced as Lije made a gagging sound, though he didn’t run to join Stickyfingers at the barrel. “I think they made the mistake of trying a sip of dwarven mushroom brew. Let’s just say, it’s strong.”
“Remind me to stay away from the stuff.” Fieran shuddered as he fell into step with Pip. “Where to now?”
After eating lunch at a café and joining Aylia, Stickyfingers, and Lije for the moving picture—a rather horrible production that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be a slapstick comedy, a romance, or a heartfelt look at industrialization—Fieran drove the truck back to Fort Defense and returned to his tent.
After a quick cleanup from walking the dusty streets for most of the day, Fieran paused before leaving his tent. Hesitating another moment, he picked up his swords, shrugged them on, and buckled the straps. He buckled the bracers on as well.
He didn’t necessarily need his swords for a family dinner—although carrying them at least fulfilled the army regulations to be armed—but he was trying to wear them more. To get more used to the feel of them on his back and in his hands.
As he strolled out of his tent, Merrik was stepping out of his, a small wince twisting his face.
“Are you all right?” Fieran hurried closer, though he didn’t offer an arm. If Merrik wanted help, he’d ask for it.
“Fine.” Merrik’s gait had more of a hitch to it, a limp that he’d nearly erased most days. “That was just a lot of walking. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
Fieran opened his mouth, not quite sure what to say. Before he had the chance, Merrik’s gaze swung past him. With a smile, Merrik nudged Fieran.
Turning, Fieran found Pip strolling toward the two of them, dressed in her uniform shirt and skirt. She halted and smoothed her skirt in what seemed to be a nervous gesture. “Do I look all right?”
“You look great. Not that Dacha will even notice.” Fieran held out his hand to her, resisting the urge to pull her closer or kiss her.
“You do not have to be nervous.” Merrik fell in on the other side of Fieran. “The table will be so crowded that Uncle Farrendel’s attention will not be on you.”
Pip gave a slight nod, but she was still walking close to Fieran, her grip tight on his hand.