Well, it seems that I'm marathon-writing! Hopefully all this creativity hangs around, because I'm enjoying writing this story so far! By the way, this is an original story from the brain of yours truly, featuring Dungeons and Dragons characters I (and several of my friends) have played. For example, Aramil and Meryl are my duo, while Devlin was played by a friend of mine. Anyway, I hope you guys are enjoying this so far! Please read and respond!
Half an hour later, Meryl, Aramil, and Devlin were all seated around at a table in the common room of Hackdirt's inn, The Merry Keg. The table was laden down with enough food to feed five or six people, and it was a good thing. Aramil was eating like a horse, occasionally sending glares at Devlin from over his tankard or a pork rib. The elf also apparently didn't believe in wearing a shirt, and his trousers weren't in the best shape. His hair was brown and wild, and he generally looked like a rabid wolverine as he hunched over his plate.
Devlin swirled his wine glass around, the red liquid catching the light nicely. "My dear Meryl, you're truly a gracious lady, offering assistance to these villagers for free."
"Aramil will be doing the killing, not me. We're just grateful to have a good meal and warm place to stay for the night." Meryl replied humbly, dipping her head in a bow.
"And so modest! I am sure your healing powers will be most useful," Devlin said silkily as he put his wine glass down in order to take a bite of roast quail. "Excellent bird. And the wine- so young and fresh."
"I thought that wine was better when it was older? That's what I'd always heard, anyway." Meryl said, clearly missing the innuendo in Devlin's tone. It hadn't escaped Aramil, however. Devlin was probably lucky that the giant of an elf was busy eating.
Devlin just laughed, dotting at the corner of his mouth with a linen napkin. "Oh, my lovely lady! All wines are exquisite, you know. It's all a matter of appreciating each and every vintage's particular beauty."
Meryl still wasn't getting it, her delicate brows furrowed. "Oh. I see." she said, the doubt in her tone making it obvious that she didn't see at all. Shrugging, the slender woman resumed eating her own dinner.
"Tell me, my lady, how did you ever come to travel with Armand?"
"Aramil." the elf grunted in-between bites of his dinner.
"Aramil has been with me since I was a child. He was my father's best friend, and he's looked after me since my father passed away." Meryl replied with a bright smile, glancing up at the enormous elf, who had managed to get crumbs and gravy all over his stubble.
"I see. That's quite noble! After all, it would be far too dangerous for such a beautiful young lady to travel alone." Devlin's hand began slithering its way across the table toward Meryl's. Aramil, however, 'accidentally' knocked a gravy boat over onto Devlin's hand as he reached for another biscuit.
Devlin yowled and withdrew his gravy-covered hand in a hurry. "Damn, that's hot!"
"Sorry." Aramil muttered around a mouthful of his biscuit.
"No need to apologize, Arnold. These accidents do happen." Devil replied smoothly as he wiped the gravy from his hand with his napkin.
"Aramil." the elf replied tonelessly.
"He certainly isn't a talker, is he? Well, just means I get to have the engaging lady all to myself in terms of conversation!" Devlin said, scooping up his wineglass and taking a sip.
"Er- Aramil doesn't talk much, but when he does people tend to listen…" Meryl trailed off, glancing almost beseechingly up at the enormous elf.
He got the hint. "On to business." was all he said.
Meryl let out a relieved breath. "Yes! Business. The elder said that the bandits are camped out in the bluffs to the west of town. With all this bad weather, they're likely to be waiting it out. If the past few mornings have been any indication, we'll have heavy fog before dawn."
"Aha! And that's when we'll strike, under the cover of fog! Such a clever strategist, my lady!" Devlin praised, resuming swirling his wine around in its glass.
"Th-thank you. Um, since we don't have any idea of what the camp's layout is, we'll need to be cautious going in. Still, if we strike early in the morning, they'll only have a few guards awake and we'll have the element of surprise on our side. If that sounds good to you two." Meryl said quietly, looking back and forth between the two.
"Brilliant, my lady. We should leave just before dawn then, yes?"
Aramil met Meryl's glance and gave a single, approving nod.
"We should get to bed early, then." Meryl said, rising.
"Of course. And which rooms will you two be staying in?"
"We're across the hall from your room, I think." Meryl replied.
"Wait, 'we're?' So… you two are…?" Devlin scowled.
Meryl's cheeks flushed, and she hurriedly shook her head. "I- Aramil is-"
"Her bodyguard." Aramil grunted. Hefting his axe up in one hand and grabbing Meryl's wrist in the other, he led the way up the stairs and to their room. Once inside, he immediately slammed the door shut and locked it, propping his greataxe up near the bed. The giant elf then began prowling around the small room like a caged animal.
"Aramil, what's the matter?" Meryl asked him quietly as she sat down on the edge of the bed.
"That wizard!" he snarled as he whirled to face her, his brown hair a tangled mess.
"Devlin? I know he wasn't exactly polite to you, but-"
"No!" he thundered, crossing the room in two broad strides and towering over her. "I don't give a damn what he thinks of me."
"Then what-"
"He desires you," Aramil growled low in his throat, turning and pacing away. "I don't like how he looks at you."
Meryl coughed and then shook her head, visibly flustered. "But- I'm not- I mean, I don't…"
Aramil was silent for a moment, then finally turned to glance down at her. "I know. I am sorry, Meryl. I didn't mean to raise my voice at you. I'm just- overprotective."
The young woman smiled faintly at him, her expression almost sad. "Will you let me comb your hair?" she asked quietly.
Obedient as a puppy, the enormous elf sat down on the floor in front of her, his back to her. He scooped up her small leather pack from its place on the floor near the bed and offered it up to her wordlessly.
Reaching in, she pulled a brush from the pack and began running it through his hair, gently but insistently working through the tangles. "How does your hair always get to be such a mess, Aramil?" she asked quietly.
He answered her in the form of a pleased rumble which seemed to emanate from his very chest, his eyes slipping shut. Tensed muscles in his shoulders slowly began to relax, and his scarred visage managed a lopsided little half-smile.
Meryl watched him as she brushed his hair in silence, taking in the sight of the burly elf. His chest, back, and arms were all littered with scars. Even his long, pointed ears bore signs of battle, a chunk of flesh cleaved out of the bottom of his left lobe. He was a man more comfortable in battle than anywhere else. While he didn't often speak, he communicated volumes through his body language. Meryl had become adept at reading him over the years and she knew now that despite his efforts to let the issue go, he still had half a mind to break Devlin's arms and legs.
A quiet sigh eased forth from the half-Drow's lips. This was her favourite time of day and these were her favourite moments. Still, despite how she'd watched Aramil over the years as she grew from gangly child to wistful teenager to young woman, she'd never once seen in him the one thing that she wanted with increasing fervor. Maybe he never would look at her like that. Maybe he would always see her as a child.
Placing the hairbrush aside on the bed, Meryl gazed at the back of his head for a moment, thoughts drifting. Just once, she wanted to kiss him. Her relationship with Aramil had always been so careful, so chaste. He was her bodyguard and her best friend and nothing more. He'd looked after her ever since she was a child. When her father passed away and she told him she was going to see the world, he hadn't hesitated- just packed up his few belongings and gone with her.
Presently, Aramil turned his head and glanced back at her with one green eye. Meryl smiled faintly. The way he looked at her made her stomach tie itself in knots. She'd seen him savage and murderous in battle, and yet he looked so gentle when it was just the two of them like this. The blinded eye and scars on the bridge of his note and his cheek and his jaw- none of them did anything to diminish just how… beautiful she found him. Maybe that wasn't the right word. Too dainty, too feminine. Handsome? Not strong enough. Not intense enough. Devlin was handsome. Aramil was… Aramil.
"All done?" he asked, his deep voice finally bringing her from her thoughts.
"Yes." she replied quietly.
Wordlessly, Aramil rose and strode a few paces away, turned away from her so she could change into her nightgown.
Meryl watched his back as she removed the shawl she kept tied around her waist and then the purple corset she wore over her white dress. Just once, she wanted him to turn while she was undressing like this, and kiss her. And then he'd guide her back to the bed and…
The young woman sighed as she tugged the nightgown on over her head. "I'm decent."
Aramil turned and nodded as she folded up her clothing and placed it aside. "You should sleep." he said quietly.
Meryl just nodded and climbed under the covers of the bed, gazing at him for a moment. "Good night, Aramil."
"Good night, Meryl." he said, watching her as she shut her eyes and quickly drifted off to sleep.
The burly elf checked to make sure the door was locked before taking a seat on the floor next to the bed, leaning back against the wall. He remained motionless there, sinking into a trancelike state as he rested. Asleep but still aware, he kept vigil throughout the night.