Author's note: I don't own the content before you – this is an exercise in creativity. Please mind the rating, there are scenes of death, sex and swearing.
Summary: so a rogue walks into a bar…/snippets of a young woman's life
They're sitting around a campfire, Gimli fussing over her bandaged arm.
Pilar and Xavin are whispering to each other over cups of sweet tea. Xavin reaches out and tugs on his wife's cloak further down her shoulder to ward off the chill and she smiles brilliantly up at him. Today they managed to rescue a gaggle of druids from the depths of Zangarmarsh and everybody's riding on a bit of an adrenalin high.
At night, Ellen and Gimli share bedrolls and they talk in the old tongue, in dwarvish –
Under the expanse of the universe she feels so small, and Gimli is warm against her back.
She worries about Vera though and counts the day when she has to give him back.
(Vera is good for him, they attend services together and drink terrible dwarvish whiskey and are both respected in the Argent Dawn. Ellen knows how he takes his tea, what kind of socks he likes and how to talk him down when his temper flares.)
(Vera also keeps him safe away from secrets and knives and the thought makes her stomach curdle.)