Tales of an Iselian Tiger.
Chapter 2
Best foot...
Rope lay in his lap, coiled like a tame snake. It was a goodly length, long enough to wind about his torso and dangle so it nearly touched the ground. Coated in bits of flaking stripes, he rolled it over in his hand, back was in the same pitiable state as the front. It was a shame all around. Smiling at his pun, fully intended and all the funnier for it, he ran the patchy orange and black hued rope in his hands. No point in putting it off, though hard on the nose it was all in all a worthwhile endeavor. He took to his task with a sigh, confirmed the sad truth with another turn and twist. Taking truth firmly in hand he went to fixing. Out came the bottles, one black, the other orange, both were half full with a sludgy gunk that barely stirred though he shook it vigorously.
From his barrowed blankets Dirk rose, half propped himself on one belt elbow, dark eyes curious. Over all it was an impressive sight, watching a dwarf squirm and fight only to half rise from human blankets when he was half a man's size or more. More to the incredulous sight, than to the curiosity, Tylor smiled.
"One must look their best and put thier best foot forward, wouldn't you say?" the priest quiped.
"With a stripy rope?" The dwarf asked gruffly.
"With a freashly painted stripy rope." The priest corrected.
With a snort that declared the human mad without the use of language, Dirk rolled over and was promptly half buried by the blankets Tylor had laid out for him on the forest floor. Falling asleep, heralding his state with the beginning of what promised to be a loud night of snores, the dwarf left the world of the waking in a roll of artificial thunder. Tylor smirked, despite knowing how rude it was he spared the sight a chuckle as all the dwarven stereotypes he'd heard all his life were confirmed in one pass. To that soft sound the dog considered him, its black eyes a mystery.
"A gald piece for your thoughts, Mr. Minty?"
The "dog" met the human's gaze squarely in an oddly human gesture. Black eyes peeping out from a mask of spring green fur, the beast cocked his head to the side in mute inquiry. Thick neck arched, the beast watched intently as the preist popped off one of the lids. Only when the odor escaped the once air tight confines did the beast wrinkled his long snout. To that Tylor grimaced, and tried not to breath too deep as the slick sweet smell of paint assaulted his nostrils too.
"It's not that bad and I promise I'll make it quick." The priest assured his watch mate a gesture that was more grimace than grin. "Don't worry, I've a lot of practice with this." He assured "Minty" with a wink.
To that the green and silver colored dog snorted, or would have, an errant gust of wind drew the reek close and snort became a "gak" of absolute disgust. Hacking and wheezing the canine staggered to his feet, snaking his neck down so he could grab Lloyd by the scruff of his shirt and carry the boy along. Clearly the smell was that bad, and despite whatever assurances the priest had just given the beast was going to move downwind and take his charge with him.
"Hey now!" The priest snapped, half rising in protest at the... well doggish manner that "Minty" was using to move the boy along.
Utterly trusting, or perhaps merely a deep sleeper, the child didn't stir though he dangled a goodly few inches off the earth.
"He's not a puppy, you know." Tylor scolded, setting paints and rope aside to take the more important matter in hand. Pushing off the springy grass coated ground for leverage, he stood, staggered a half step, then strode up the dog. Eyes widening in surprise the dog's response was instantaneous. Furry lips lifted in something too savage to be a smile, and though a shirt full of mouth weighing him down, the canine dredged up a snarl.
The beast was more formidable than any wolf the priest had ever seen. Equal to a man's chest in height if he stood on the tips of his paws and craned his neck just so. Both, which the dog did, as Tylor approached. Fear lit in those black eyes, and to that he moved as any good person would, to reassure and dispel the out of place terror.
"Easy, I just want to give you a hand." The priest smiled wide, opening his hands to show them to be empty. "Come on now, be reasonable" Tylor pressed, seeing the beast shuffle one paw behind the other, as if the beast were preparing to bolt. With a sigh, setting his hands on his hips it was in that pose he looked down at the dog. "He's shivering you know." The priest pointed out quietly, his vestments rustling like uneasy ghosts as the earlier breeze picked up a mite.
Slowly, so not to wake the slumbering child, "Minty" lowered his massive head, set the boy on the ground and grudgingly loosed his nip.
To that the priest chuckled, then picked up the child where the dog had placed the boy.
"Your nose shall be my guild." The priest teased, making a joke of a small sacrilege, for the proper saying ran "Your light shall be my guild". It was an old Martelian verse, a sentiment overused to the point of it becoming passe.
Perhaps understanding the light jab at the priestly profession the canine wagged his tail in a doggish kind of mirth. Looking over one fury shoulder, as if to assure himself he hadn't lost anyone, the dog paced a few steps away and turned back again. Waiting.
Taking the not too subtle hint for it was the priest kept pace, the child cradled in his arms.
XXX
"My laundry was a bit behind. So I hide the stains, see?"
To that the boy snickered, face hidden by a barrier of raised hands, brown eyes sparkling as he took in the orange and black striped vest Tylor had slung over his stereo typical Martelian robes to "hide the stains" as it were. Turning to the dog, he sighed, a mite melodramatically, as if crushed by the child's laughter. His whole face a-twitch the priest braved on in the face of Lloyd's skepticism and turned to face the child's pet.
"Sincerely, the vest serves a purpose. I ah... also seem to have outgrown my traditional leather made belt about the waist if you take my meaning. So, in proper Martelian fashion I improvised."
To that he lifted the glossy tail, it's attendant bells ring-a-linged at the provocation. To that the dog wagged his tail madly, black eyes squinted up, red tongue a loll.
"Sincerely..." the priest turned to the flabbergasted Dirk. "With utmost honesty, I do speak, when I say that..."
Hands on hips face reddening, Dirk let out a hard bark of a laugh that stopped Tylor's act in it's tracks. The sound wasn't mirthful, rather scornful, and a bit... vicious besides.
"Lad, don't play the fool with me." The dwarf snapped.
"I, good sir?" Tylor teased, forcing his smile wide.
Lifting one thick finger he waggled it at the priest, every solid inch scolding and stubborn.
"Yes, you. And I mean it lad, no lies of any stripe. Lying's the first step towards thievery, it's a dwarven vow and all."
"Dwarven vow?" Tylor queered, his green eyes wide in surprise as he took in a two fold shock. Few were those he couldn't charm out of a bad mood by being himself, and rare was it they'd go so far to scold him. Those who thought him a fool generally turned the other way, having nothing to do with him at all rather than to correct. Tucking his thumbs in his belt Dirk rocked back on his leather boots, confident he'd stopped the quick paced, pointless, banter in it's tracks. Dwarven from head to toe, Dirk thought it his right to make those around him set aside their scattered efforts and strove to put down a solid base. In this case, what was needed was a solid slab of truth in place of the whimsical willies this priest was tossing all about.
"Now then." Dirk smiled to reasure the fully grown human, feeling a bit strange that he'd have to do so. It attested to the sad state of a people when a man went all sullen to have his game stopped. Games were for children after all, not adults. "What's the truth behind the glamour, lad?"
To that question the smile returned, the green eyes glinted with mischief, it was the smile Gnome gave when he played a prank on the worlds.
"That, would be telling."
"Aye, telling the truth."
"Evading isn't lying, good dwarf."
"It's annoying." Dirk huffed.
To that Tylor tipped his head, the human's wild red hair trailing behind him, the man tapped on finger against his lips as if in deep thought. One tick of the head caused the thought to tumble one way, another tick and tile caused the thought to tumble another way. It was so quiet Dirk imagined he could hear the idea bumping about the priests skull with a loud click-a-clatter... but truthfully that might have been the bells striking the road. Finally, thought complete, the priest smiled, dropped his pose, and the hole of his face was lit with inspiration. With a snap of his fingers to proclaim he'd reached some solution, the human turned on his heel and began his trek down the road to Iselia.
"Hey now!" Dirk snapped, stomping after the priest. "What were you about to say?"
Hands clasped behind his hands the priest hummed an odd tune, not uttering one word in reply. Badgering and following, Dirk kept pace with the still humming priest. Confused, Lloyd merely settled himself on his doggie's back and scratched those broad silver and green shoulders. Ignoring the petting this time, the canine contemplated. Black eyes peeked out from a green mask, tail no longer a-wag, "Minty" paced after the dwarf, and priest, canine face curious. Thus the foursome took to the final winding stretch of road that would make them leave the edge of forest, and continue towards Iselia.
XXX
"There's a Saying I've heard human's use" Saying was said with the same gravity the word vow had been tabbed with a conversation agone. Lulled out of his humming by a brisk pace and changing scenery Dirk had taken advantage of the man's quiet to get a word of five in. "It's about putting the right foot forward."
"Humans are unduly concerned with their feet." Tylor explained sagely. The ribbon about his neck, he plucked at it in seeming distaste as he talked. Finally, a light a glee springing in his eyes, he raked a hand through his hair, first one, than the other, catching locks far and wide. When he had the bulk his hair contained in one hand he picked of the ribbon and would it about the raised lump atop. While he bound his hair he continued his explanation. "We have many feet sayings, us humans. Putting one's foot in it. One foot on front of the other. A foot in the mouth... and so on and so forth."
Winding down his explanation he finished winding up his hair. The green fabric made a pretty contrast to the fiery locks it bound. A tickling against the back of his ears told the priest that a few locks had gotten loose. Not wanting to look a rogue he tucked those few strands of red behind one ear and smiled.
"How do I look?"
Silence, incredulous quiet. That was normal, and so he waited it out with the patience years of experience had taught him to use. Quietly, sweeping dark eyes from the tangled top of the human's head to the tiger striped boots that covered one of the priests feet, Dirk coughed before uttering one word. And it was that word, scorn driven, with a look of deep concern twisting the short man's features that made the priest laugh.
"Girly."
"Nooo. You're exaggerating!" Whirling to the other end of the gathering, to green dog and little boy he posed, striving to look impressive. After all, first impressions were everything.
"Look Noshy, mop!"
The little boy was pointing with discerning accuracy at the top of Tylor's head. Reaching up, Tylor scratched at the top of his head, rather wounded by the child's assumption.
"Oh come now!" Tylor huffed, face starting to turn pink as he fought, and failed, against a blush. "I do not look like a... a..."
"Bark!" The green and silver "Noshy" affirmed, tail wagging so vigorously it seemed ready to fly off the behind it was attached too.
"A mop?" Tylor sighed, dejected to find out the hard way that Dirk was probably right.
"A mop." The dwarf grunted.
"Seriously?"
"Want another vow 'bout honesty?"
"One's enough, thank you."
Reaching up to tug the cassock off Tylor winced as he realized a horrible truth. The tassels at the end of the ribbon had tangled with his hair, again, which was why -he remembered belatedly- he never wore his hair up. "Ah Martel..." Another tug inspired a headache and drove the point of his folly to the fore. "Martel blast it..." He sighed, half grieving for his situation, half rueful that he couldn't use stronger words to describe it. Then, inspiration struck, he looked to the dwarf with a bit of hope to his eyes. "You're a craftsman, and I'd bet a belled boot that you'd have a pair of scissors or razor on you, am I right?"
To that quivery the Dirk jerked a thumb back to indicate the ax slung over his back, just in case Tylor had missed it.
"I've that." The dwarf offered.
"No thank you."
Then, with a smug smirk, the dwarf extended a hand. He saw another lesson on the horizon, and moved to tender it.
"Your boot than. You did promise and all."
Chuckling, Tylor bowed to the dwarf, he had promised, and a promise was a promise after all. "Right or left?" He asked politely.
"I was joking!"
"Well, I wasn't." The priest gave a little smirk of hiw own. "It'll be a fine toy for the boy on his road to your home, keep him from brooding, and annoy his dog as well."
To that "Noshy" the canine also known as "Minty" and "Fluffer" bared his impressive fangs in another mute growl.
"Just making sure you don't forget me, is all." The priest teased the dog. "...Minty."
"Snarl!"
Pulling off his left boot Tylor tossed it to the dwarf and turned on his heel he took the path towards Iselia. Left at the fork in the road Dirk was torn, between smile and frown. The scent curdling from the boot decided his gesture forr him, but nothing else.
Unsure for one of the first times in his life, Dirk stroked his beard, thought the day and a half he'd spent with the man over a good long while and mulled on other things. Finally, decision met, he took the logical course.
"Let's get us home." The dwarf declared, turning himself towards the split on the path that would lead home.
To Dirk decision the dog growled.
"To my home than." Dirk amended. "We've a lot to talk about, the three of us."