Written for the Finals of Season 2 of the QLFC as Beater 1 for the Falcons.

Disclaimer: I do not in anyway make money from this.

Prompts: Pain, Praise

Word Count: ~1,300

A/N: Title from In the End by Linkin Park.

.x.x.

Tisch liked the dungeon he lived in. He found it quite cozy and quiet (for the most part)—the best combination in his long, long years of service. He'd liked the place he'd been before too, but that was a long time ago and the bustle of activity had been exciting rather than tiring the way it is now. He liked the jars of odd things on the wall that don't talk. It made for interesting entertainment without any of the noise.

Tisch especially liked the new big human that told the littler humans what to do because he, like Tisch, liked the dungeon quiet—mostly. The big human in his billowing blacks seemed to scare the most of the littler humans, which is a good thing as far as Tisch is concerned.

.x.x.

You learn a few things after being around humans all day, day after day, for most of the year. Like talking. Only those who've been around humans long enough ever learn to talk. It takes most at least a century to pick up talking. Not to brag, but Tisch is proud to say it only took him three quarters of a century to learn. That's a whole quarter of a century faster than most other tables. Like the one right next to him. It's been nearly three centuries and the old thing still hasn't made a peep.

It gets rather boring, though, when you have no one to talk to, so Tisch had taken to talking to the littler humans that use him. He gave them tips like "you need to crush the snake fangs before adding it" or "you need to juice the leeches."

They never listen to him, though. None of them ever say anything back. That's the problem with humans; they don't know how to listen. They live in their own heads and don't pay any attention to the things around them.

Sometimes, Tisch really wished there was someone there to talk to, someone who would listen.

.x.x.

"NO! NO! You need to take the cauldron off the—" Tisch shouted, but of course the silly littlest humans didn't listen. The cauldron started hissing. Tisch watched in horror as the thing melted, spewing its guts all over him, burning him.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" he shouted in pain. "Clean it up! Clean it up already! It burns! It burns!" Where was that big human?

"Someone move me away! Move me away! No! I don't want to get burned!" someone shouted, someone very close to Tisch.

"Noooooo! My legs! Get me away!"

Someone who couldn't move.

"Ah! No!" A chair fell over as the second little human grabbed the first little human and left.

Finally—finally—the big human waved his wand and the burning stopped. The chair is upright again, and Tisch eyed it suspiciously.

"You can talk," he accused.

The chair sniffed, but otherwise ignored him.

Well, if that's how she's going to play it.

.x.x.

As a table, Tisch shouldn't have favorites. It's by law that he serves all animate, intelligent beings equally without complaint. But these two little humans were pushing it. It would be just his luck that the idiot humans who spewed defunct Boil Cure Potion all over him chose him again. It would be just his luck that those idiot humans were just that stupid and couldn't follow simple instructions and couldn't tell flobberworm mucus from salamander blood. It would be just his luck that those idiot humans would be an endless source of pain and misery for him.

Silla just thought he was silly. She didn't know his pain. How could she? She wasn't the one whose face got covered in blood and mucus and guts all the time. She wasn't the one who was at risk of having icky potion that did who knows what spilled all over their face.

He got a bit of revenge, though, when one time those idiot humans sat elsewhere and another pair of idiot humans chose him instead. Tisch thought it would be all right since he'd seen the pointy human work and the big human in black seemed to like this pointy little human.

They were doing Swelling Solutions, and Tisch was ever so glad it wouldn't be those two idiots again. He didn't fancy swelling up too much.

Things had been going rather well for once—the humans following the big human's instructions for a change—when their cauldron suddenly exploded. Swelling Solution went flying everywhere, and Tisch was happy to see some land on Silla.

"HA!" he shouted at her. He almost didn't even mind the splatters on him. He was used to these spills anyway.

.x.x.

"USE A CUTTING BOARD, DAMMIT! THEY'RE THERE FOR A REASON!" Tisch shouted for the umpteenth time at the idiot humans.

Silla laughed, a thumping sound that made her tremble, shaking the not-so-little-anymore idiot human sitting on her. The knife he'd been holding slammed hard into Tisch's face.

"STOP! You're leaving scars!" Tisch yelled again. This only made Silla laugh harder. "How am I ever going to get a date with all these scars?"

"You can't go on any dates, Tisch," Silla said. "You're stuck in these here dungeons."

"Oh, so now you talk to me. It's only been five years." Tisch said with a sneer.

"Four years," Silla said snootily. Tisch wondered why he'd been trying so hard since all Silla seemed to do was laugh at him.

"You're funny," she said. And well, Tisch will take that as praise, even if it wasn't meant to be.

.x.x.

The big human in billowing blacks is gone. Tisch sort of misses him. A new old big human took his place. It's been awhile since Tisch last saw the man. He hadn't been a bad big human, but he didn't quite have the control over the littler humans that Billows had.

Late in the day on the first day those little humans came back, the big human set up cauldrons on him. One in particular was emitting some very nice scents.

"Mmm, that smells nice," Tisch said.

Silla didn't reply, but he could tell she was also taking in the scents.

The potion, apparently, was the world's most powerful love potion and smelled differently to each person.

"What do you smell?" he asked her.

She didn't answer him, and at this point, Tisch is almost used to it. She seemed to take pleasure in not answering him. She only spoke when Tisch least expected it. Like on dark nights when the big littler humans came down there to tussle. There'd be moaning and groaning and Silla would ask "Have you ever been farted on? It's not very pleasant, let me tell you."

"Come on. You can tell me," he said to her. "It's not like I would tell anyone. It's not like I could tell anyone."

"You know," she said after he tried cajoling for a bit, "it's rude to ask without telling your own first."

.x.x.

There are some things you learn as a table. First, humans come and go. They're never the same year after year. Second, furniture comes and goes. Mostly chairs. The humans move them about all the time. When you're stuck in one place, though, it's mostly always the same couple chairs. Third, humans are crap at listening.

"PUT HER DOWN, YOU GINGER MENACE!" Tisch yelled as the not-little little human picked Silla up and carried her away.

"BRING HER BACK!" Tisch shouted.

"Put me back! Put me back!" he heard Silla plead.

But of course he didn't. Because he couldn't hear them.

Tisch held a little bit of hope that the menace would bring Silla back to him at the end of the day, but the giant oaf doesn't even bother cleaning up.

It's the bushy brown haired human that eventually puts a chair back.

"Silla?" he asked hopefully.

But he got no answer.

A/N: Tisch is German for table. Silla is Spanish for chair. In German, Tisch is masculine. In Spanish, Silla is feminine. And that, my friends is how I named/decided the genders of each piece of furniture.