The iPod Shuffle Challenge - Nibbles of Thedas
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Song: Puttin' on the Ritz (Gene Wilder's version) (449 words)
"Dressed up like a million-dollar trouper; tryin' mighty hard to look like Gary Cooper..." "Super duper!"
"My good fellow," Zevran started in a diplomatic tone. "I will be honest with you: the lady Aeducan walked away from you because you smell like a dog." Barkspawn raised his enormous head and whiffed in contempt. "Sorry, darling, my mistake: worse than a dog."
Faren Brosca looked at the dapper rogue with his big brown eyes. "I don't think I smell of something in particular." He sniffed his shirt, which was grubby and holey. "Do you?" he asked Alistair, who was sitting next to him. Alistair waved his hand and moved aside, thanking the Maker for not being the worst of them in matters of hygiene.
"Querido..." Zevran sighed, looking at his reflection on one of his blades. "If there is one thing that any female appreciates is cleanliness. Trust me, I know about that." He chuckled. "Of course, I understand that it gets difficult when we're constantly sleeping in burrows and getting splattered with the blood of countless evildoers and abominations, but believe me when I tell you that no woman likes dirt behind a man's ears or under his fingernails. And you look like you can grow a crop of potatoes over there."
Faren rubbed the back part of his ears and when he saw what had come off, he hid his hands conspicuously. "So... I should just wash myself?"
"And soap up and rinse and scrub and repeat," Zevran smiled. "Let me help."
"I... wouldn't let him so close if I were you," Alistair murmured in the dwarf's ear.
"Nonsense," Zevran dismissed him with a chuckle. "You know I only have eyes for you, my dear Alistair." The Warden blushed up to the line of his well-combed hair and muttered an excuse before rushing out of the room. The elf laughed. "I'll tell you what, my jolly dwarf: we'll ask Wynne for that wonderful soap that Sandal got for her, and in less than a day, you'll be so squeaky clean that even those brands will be gone!"
"Can you do that?" There they were again, Faren's puppy dog eyes. It occurred to Zevran that perhaps dwarves were more concerned about the differences that those marks made for them than any other thing. What a silly thing; as if anybody had the right to make men be cattle, branding them like that.
"Nobody can, my friend," Zevran spoke softly, resting a hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "But you should wear those with pride. In other lands, only important people have them. Come, let's bathe you and dress you up, and you'll soon see how the lady Aeducan has eyes only for you."
Faren nodded and beamed as he followed the elf merrily down the corridor.
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A/N: The quote at the beginning of each story is the line that got me thinking of the short stories. Sometimes they don't match the mood of the song -Two Princes and A Kind of Magic, I'm looking at you- but both matter, right? Music and lyrics, I mean. :) So this is my headcanon Brosca, Faren. He's a sweet, sweet man, and a bit on the simple side.