Short Stories from Nireville

(A/N:  This is a collection of vocabulary compositions I have to do for English class.  I decided to publish them for those who like Nire because that is who they all have to do with.  You can guess at my vocabulary words if you want.  None of them are related to each other.  R/R/E!)

A Day in the Life

Disclaimer:  Frajen belongs to TSR (or is it WotC, now?).  So does Jander

            The clash of swords rang out constantly throughout the encampment.  The losing side pushed on with fortitude, trying desperately to regain the advantage.  The man Nire was fighting was no where near as good as her.  A hole gaped in his defenses, and Nire's sword darted in for the kill.
            She stopped, a mere hairsbreadth from the man's shirt, and both lowered their swords.  "You make that mistake constantly, Frajen.  What will it take to ram it through your thick skull?  I am tired of reiterating this speech time and time again.  I'm sure you've got it memorized almost verbatim."
            The blonde haired priest of Lathander growled in frustration.  "I'm not a fighter, you know that.  Why don't my clerical powers suffice?"
            "Because.  One day, through some freak chance, you will be bereft of that magic, and have to swordfight your way out of something.  What happens if me or Jander aren't around to help you?"
            "Well, can we be done for the day?  You've already killed me sixty times over."  He ran a hand through his sweaty, wild hair that always looked unkempt, even though he was overzealous about cleanliness.
            "Sure.  You did better today, though."
            Frajen smiled.  "Thanks, lass."  He walked off to clean up and change into drier garb.
            Nire went to survey the mock-battle, her stolid face showing no emotion.  She watched as Jander deployed his 'troops' in a flanking maneuver.  Nire augmented her voice so everybody would be sure to hear her over the clash of weapons.
            "Guys!  Think you can take a break for lunch?  It should be finished by now!"  It had been her turn to make food for the entire encampment.
            Jander and Azrael, leader of the other side, eyed each other warily, and then grinned.  "Sure Nire!"  Jander yelled back.
            "I don't know," Azrael said in a guise of seriousness, "wasn't it her turn to cook?  I hope she hasn't poisoned us all."
            Nire grinned at the friendly gibe.  "I haven't adulterated the food.  Yet."  Her usually dour face was shining with the smile.
            There was a collective laugh at the insidious intimation that if they didn't hurry, she would poison them.  The troops broke up, friend finding friend, to go see what kind of opulent feast she had prepared over the communal fire in the center of the ring of tents.  Reindeer venison had been slowly roasting as she trained Frajen, and now it was done, the palatable smells wafting to everyone's noses.
            A troop of children tumbled by, tossing a ball back and forth.  Nire snatched it out of the air with her left hand.  Although she was a rightie, she was relatively ambidextrous at most things.
            "Lunch time, kids."  They scurried over to the adults, impatiently waiting for their turn at the food.
            Out on the field, Jander stretched his pliable body, working out the kinks from fighting for so long.  Nire walked over and tentatively began to massage his tight shoulder muscles.  Jander did not always like people behind him, where he could not see them, but today he was fine with it.
            "How were they?" she asked of the troops.
            "Not bad," he said, "not bad at all today.  I think we're ready to raid the dwarven mines."
            "Sweet deal," was Nire's only response.

*Fin*