AN: Ugh! Back on track. Four more chapters to go… *dances* Then I intend to get fully involved in ToD as much as possible, unless I get distracted again. :-S. Either way, things should be wrapping up soon and I won't be running about five projects at a time by the end of the week. Half-term, you see. More time to write. :-D

Oh, and I've never read a single Ed Greenwood book, Fiery Beast of Joy. Just took the phrase from the game – the Spectral Harpers upstairs in the hold keep on going on about 'Those who harp are never truly alone'. Guess what the title would be for any sequel to this? :-D

Chapter 14: For Duty

"Can you believe him?" Jaheira demanded irately as she and Khalid sat, once again, in their seat in the corner of the Copper Coronet. The warrior had been forced to chase after the druid following her abrupt departure from the Docks District, and, as luck would have it, it had started to rain, leaving the both of them soaking wet.

"Erm… n-no?" Khalid hesitated a guess, sipping timidly on his cup of tea, hoping the piping hot liquid would warm his limbs and return a little feeling to his muscles before he froze on the spot.

Whilst the Copper Coronet was warm, it was also a little humid, and that didn't help the moods of either of them. Instead of cold and wet, they were simply warm and wet. This left Jaheira even more livid, and her mood contributed to Khalid's misery. Whilst he knew he should – and even wanted – to help, there was a part of him which wanted to run and hide.

"I mean, his life is none of my business?" Jaheira continued irritably. "It has nothing to do with me whether or not he's sleeping with Darial? Nice to know that he believes I have this much importance in his life…"

"I d-don't actually think h-he's sleeping with D-Darial," Khalid stammered helplessly, knowing his attempts of reassurance would fall on deaf ears. "I d-don't really know him, but s-she wouldn't d-do t-that."

"I think you're right, but that's not the point," Jaheira stressed. "I'm quite aware that the majority of my worry was my own over-active imagination, but for him to suggest… for him to slam the door on me like that was… oh, I'm just going to kill him," she finished, downing her own piping hot cup of tea.

Khalid watched with confusion as she didn't burn her throat, then shrugged, assuming it was some druid thing. "Wait until this m-mission is q-quite over, p-perhaps?" he suggested tentatively. "B-besides, you d-don't have to k-kill him. Maybe j-just… t-talk to him?"

Jaheira turned her furious gaze in his direction, and to Khalid's credit, the half-elven warrior squirmed only a little. It took a few seconds for the druid to realise that he wasn't going to back down, and she subsided with a sigh. "I don't want to talk to him."

"W-what if h-he tries to talk t-to you?" Khalid attempted. "It's b-been a h-hard f-few days. W-we're all f-fairly stressed… it c-could just b-be the q-quest getting t-to him. G-give him s-something of a c-chance when it's all o-over."

Jaheira sighed yet again. "I suppose you're right," she grumbled, evidently still not particularly happy. "I should give him the benefit of the doubt. He's had it harder than we have recently." A bitter expression crossed her face, which Khalid noticed quickly and decided to attempt to drive the conversation away from their uselessness in the quest.

"T-this should b-be over s-soon," he hurried on quickly. "In a f-few d-days, if G-Gorion's p-plan works. And w-we'll b-be helping with that, won't we?" Khalid winced, looking a little hopeful.

The druid gave him a considerate glance. "If everything goes as it should. At least you're happy with your role in the plan, mind… you don't have to do what I do."

"I d-don't think it w-would g-go down as well if I w-was d-doing it," Khalid assured her, smiling a wry and slightly hopeful grin, and he was rewarded with a similar, if slightly tired, smirk from Jaheira.

"Indeed. Let's get this over and done with, then we can get back on with our lives. I'm still going to yell at him, though," the druid insisted.

"Ah, but only for a bit. Not for the long term. You're far too fond of our friend Belgrade to cast him out forever, especially if he repents," Khalid murmured, almost under his breath, but as Jaheira threw him an inquisitive and highly suspicious glance, the half-elven warrior shifted in his chair and collected two more mugs from a passing waitress.

When he turned back to face her, his expression was the same slightly jumpy one he always wore, and there was nothing to suggest he'd even mumbled what she'd heard. Her intrigue in this man increased tenfold.

"More t-tea?" Khalid offered lightly, sliding the mug across the table towards her.

* *

"I am a fool, I am a fool, I am a fool," Belgrade mumbled, punctuating each repetition by bashing his head against the table he and Darial sat at in the Sea's Bounty in the Dock's District. On the third 'fool', he straightened up and lifted a hand tentatively to his forehead. "Ugh… sticky."

"Yes you are, yes you are, yes you are. And that's your own damned fault," Darial sighed, a little bored as she poked suspiciously at the fried fish that sat on her plate. "Are you sure this is still dead?" she asked. "I think it's still writhing."

"It still writhes because you poke it with your fork," Belgrade pointed out brusquely. "If you didn't want to eat it, then you shouldn't have ordered it," he continued, patting at his forehead with his napkin then wishing he hadn't.

"I was hungry. Until I had mister brain-dead over there lamenting over his own stupidity. Why don't you take the pro-active solution and do something rather than sitting here moping? She's not exactly going to sweep in and forgive you for being a complete bastard, now, is she?" Darial muttered, skewering a piece of fish on her fork and popping it in her mouth tentatively.

"No, I know, but now is not the time to make amends," Belgrade sighed, then gave her a quizzical look. "Any good? Or are you going to run out choking theatrically in an effort to amuse me?"

Darial raised an eyebrow imperiously at him. "If I were to run out of this tavern choking theatrically, I assure you, it wouldn't be for your amusement. You don't deserve my artistic skills to raise your spirits. You deserve to be tortured for being a bastard, yes…"

Belgrade sighed. "Please, help? I need some help, for, as you have so considerately pointed out, I am but a fool and a bastard?"

Darial groaned, then obligingly threw a roast potato at him. He caught it in his mouth deftly and smiled in what was supposed to be a pathetic and slightly winning way. To his credit, it was moderately successful.

"Alright," the bard conceded grudgingly. "Alright, I shall give you the benefit of my knowledge of that simple matter known as diplomacy." She leant back in her chair, sipping her ale lightly. "All you have to do is to explain your reasons for being a bastard and hope that they're valid. I can't help you there, because I don't know you're reasons."

Belgrade stared at the table, still mopping at the sticky spot on his forehead. "Stress?" he mumbled, then recoiled a little as Darial threw him an evil look. "I mean… the past few days have been hard, and…"

"Belgrade, you're pathetic, you know that?" Darial snapped. "I'm starting to feel even more sorry for Jaheira, ending up with a lug like you."

"Thank you for the support, my good friend, because I really need it right now," Belgrade retorted harshly. "As the past few days have been hellish, with the both of us playing roles where we have to enjoy watching people die for nothing other than lining the pockets of scum like Ployer, where we have to sit along and enjoy the company, compliment scum like Ployer, and generally have to act in a way which makes me feel as if I've had all of my morals split in half for duty's sake. I know it's a role, but as every day goes by it really feels as if it's eating me from within as I sit and watch people die and know that I can't help them yet, that I can't do anything about it yet, and that the someday when I will be able to free them seems to become increasingly elusive as time goes by. To top things off, the person who I sincerely care about, whom I think about being able to go on with my life with her after this mess – and that thought keeps me going – has started to doubt me; started to think that I'm slipping a little bit too far into that role in one respect. And when someone who means something to you starts to doubt you in that way, you start to doubt yourself, and I don't need that," Belgrade snapped, slamming his fist on the table in what seemed like rage but Darial could see was more upset frustration.

There was a long silence as the two Harpers stared at each other, and Belgrade took a deep, shuddering breath. "I needed her to believe in me, needed her to believe that this is just a charade so that I can believe it's just a charade. I'm not like you, Darial. I can't play a role and spend all the time remembering it's a role. For me, when I do things like that, with every unsavoury action I take I have to wonder how much of it is acting and how much isn't; where the line between me and my role has been drawn."

Darial stared at him for a long moment, then leaned forwards and shovelled a forkful of fish into her mouth. There was a second of silence as she chewed and swallowed, Belgrade still calming himself down, rubbing his eyes wearily, before the bard spoke once more.

"Let's just get this finished, okay?" she replied quietly, reaching out to place a hand on his forearm, then thinking the better of it. "Then you can explain to Jaheira, make amends. She's irritated, you're stressed, and it's just a bad time. Wait for the dust to settle; get this over and done with, then make amends."

Belgrade sighed, smiling a sad and fairly insincere smile at her. "The things we do for duty, hmm?"