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Dearest Readers, now that the cat that is and is not is out of the box, a thousand apologies for this bit of juvenile indulgence at the start. An attempt to portray what the truest of friends say and do to each other. ;)

"What you seek, is seeking you."
- Rumi

THE HIDDEN SWORD: A TALE OF BALDUR'S GATE

Book One: From the Earth | Chapter 20 : Riverbend

Four muted souls sat around a table by the window of the empty common room, thick curtains drawn to shut out the morning light too harsh for bloodshot eyes. Of them, two nursed their aching temples and abdomen, the other slumped with her head nestled between her bulky arms, while the last one leaned against a chair and stared with glazed eyes at the carpeted ceiling as she clutched at her stomach.

The same eyes slid down to the steaming plate in front of her, piled with blood sausages, baked beans, fried bread, grilled tomatoes, sautéed mushrooms, and a small family of poached eggs.

"I don't think I've ever eaten so much at a dinner that isn't a midwinter feast," Irse groaned at the sight of breakfast, rubbing her belly, remembering how much more of the food and drink had been bought after the fireworks.

Nonetheless, the elf leaned forward, grabbed the cutlery and began eagerly digging into her meal, ignoring the surprised frown from Shar-Teel sitting across her.

Dotie moaned, her mutterings muffled by the wood against her face.

"There's our champion," the captain proclaimed and leaned over to muss the dwarf's hair with savored roughness, the latter too weak to swat back.

"Aww, Teacher wouldn't let me have any, but at least that meant more drinks for Dotie," Irse said as she wiped the grease from her mouth and gazed in awe at the suffering woman beside her. "But I counted twenty? Thirty pints in front of her? Where did she put all of that in?"

Nells smiled despite the obvious discomfort behind her eyes. "Dwarven folk are remarkably good at holding in their drink but I do recall her taking the time to relieve herself and for quite a while too."

"That's a proper way of sayin' she was peeing and puking her guts out at the bush behind us," Shar-Teel snorted. "Folks are gonna steer clear of that shrub for days."

"Oh, come now," Nells said. "We all did our share of alleviating ourselves that way. Not an admirable thing to do to nature, but fortunately no city guards and druids were patrolling at the time."

Irse wagged a spoon at her seatmate. "Sure, we all did. But Dotie's must be the wettest bush at the park last night."

Shar-Teel erupted into fits of sniggering while Nells beamed and covered her mouth.

"What? What did I say this time?" Irse griped then yelped at a sudden hard slap at the side.

"Only the most idiotic thing to say in the mornin'!" Dotie growled, having pulled herself from her stupor and smacked the elf.

Irse rubbed the pained shoulder and arm. "I say things? I'm not the one drunk out of her mind last night and saying weird stuff," she said, leaning at Dotie with a narrowed gaze.

"… at Teacher."

The dwarf paled at the accusation, her eyes darting in clear panic to each of the crewmembers. "Yer lyin', I cannae remember nothin'. An' if true, I be certain not at that... Noodle-Stick!"

But the rest of the crew merely stared back keenly.

"What'd I say anyway?" Dotie almost whispered.

Shar-Teel raised an eyebrow. "Do we look like we speak rock?"

"Well, you've never been that spirited talking to anyone before which was nice, but we can't understand duergar. We were hoping you'd enlighten us," Nells said.

"Yep, and Teacher was all just – I appreciate the conversation, Dotie, but your words are beyond my limited knowledge of languages. Please forgive my grave inadequacy but know that if what you say is close to your heart then I would have returned the kindness of understanding," Irse enunciated in her best impression of Okami's speech, hands clasped together with repeated exaggerated apologetic bowing at each word.

Dotie stared wide-eyed at the elf, frozen for a moment. Then she sighed a suspiciously relieved sigh and pulled her plate closer.

"Nothin' ye sods should give a rat's fart about," she grumbled, her fork hovering and trembling above the sausages.

Irse leaned back, twirling a knife in thought. "Something about axes, I bet. After all, you're a dwarf and he's a blacksmith. We throw you in a forge together, lock the door and see what you two will make in there!"

Dotie stiffened in her seat. "What we be makin' in there?" She blinked furiously, then wagged her head as if to catch herself. "Get it outta' yer fool head that all Deep Folk are smiths 'cause I not be one."

Undeterred and inspired by the visits at the weapons shops and the prior night's adventure, Irse went on, her mind already filled with visions of floating, gleaming axes of all shapes and sizes – battleaxes, felling axes, throwing axes, broad-axes, pickaxes, bearded axes, axe-hammers, boarding axes…

"All right, but if that's so then you wouldn't have to do anything. Just tell him how you want it and he'll do all the work. Teacher's really good with his hands, why, he could even make you a nail in just one heat!"

Irse paused, puzzled. "Eh, why are you pinching your nose?" she asked and pointed. "Is it bleeding?"

Dotie stopped grasping her nose, snorted and raised her hands as if to strangle the glib elf beside her.

"Stop… yer… yammerin'… already," Dotie muttered through gritted teeth, fingers twitching in the air and inching towards their target.

Nells clapped her palms together, startling the elf from her daydream and the dwarf from her evidently budding murderous intent.

"Well! At least we all made it back in one piece! No fights, no brawls, no one almost killed or publicly embarrassed!" she interjected in a strained bright tone, fortunately overlooking the two who abruptly straightened up in their seats like guilty children.

Dotie coughed and pointed her fork at each one of them at the table. "Speakin' o' gettin' back here. Which one o' ye sods put me in the sack last night? Swaddled me like an addled babe an' laid me at my side –"

"So you don't drown in your own vomit, if you do again in your sleep," Shar-Teel butted in. "Last time you did, I almost had the deck planks pulled out and burned."

"Aye, 'cause that be what ye get when yer too cheap to buy quality grog. Now who did that? Was it ye?" Dotie turned on Nells who, as Irse often heard the half-duergar say, must have been made the first mate because she was always the first to perform acts of sickening kindness.

"I'd love to have done that for you but I'm afraid I was too tired by then. I only remember heading straight for my room as soon as we arrived here," Nells replied.

Dotie glared at Irse.

"Don't look at me," the elf retorted. "You would've punched me in the face if I did."

Dotie grunted as if satisfied at the acknowledgment, then rounded on the captain.

Shar-Teel huffed, "If I could do all that with a thirty-foot oar, then maybe yeah. But, no."

"Then how…?"

"How? Like a sleeping baby cradled in her da's arms," Irse teased, gesturing the act of rocking an infant.

"More like a bride plastered at the wedding party and missing her own threshold crossing," Shar-Teel piled on, holding up her arms as if bearing a fainted maiden in them and making smoochy noises. Captain and elf laughed and exchanged high-fives.

"Oh, stop it you two," Nells admonished. "Dotie, don't listen to them. I'm sure it wasn't much trouble for Mister Okami to carry you by himself all the way from the park to your bed."

Dotie's face drained of all color. Even the gray.

"For someone quite lean, he is pretty strong," Nells observed objectively.

Shar-Teel added appraisingly, "Ah, yeah. Maybe worked those reedy muscles from haulin' sacks of potatoes all the time. Must've been some really heavy potatoes back at the rice fields in Kara-Tur or Koza-Wherever he's from."

The elf tried to suppress the ironic quirk in her lips at the captain's guess. But then she pouted, a bit miffed at her Teacher's attentiveness to Dotie, and peeved at the missed chance to prank the dwarf by hiding the latter's boots and pretending she had accidentally dropped them along the way.

Irse faced Dotie again and groused, "You know, I wanted to help carry you. Told him I'd hold the other end with your feet. But no, he said - What manner of man am I if I… if I… - ah, whatever, I forgot the rest."

"... if I burdened you with my duty to care for one who has labored and toiled beside me, and when it is within my capacity to bear alone," Okami continued for her.

Irse gave a startled squeak at finding her Teacher suddenly standing next to the table, a tray in his hands. She grinned uncomfortably as he shot her a dry look before he went around to set down a mug of steaming tea before each one except his apprentice. Irse managed a quick peek at Shar-Teel's before the woman grabbed it. A dark green liquid with tiny leaves and bits of stem floating on the surface.

"What's this? Stinks with twice the grass than what you have all the time," Shar-Teel questioned as she swirled the mug below her nose.

"Solmac, an herbal tonic to ease discomfort after a bout of revelry. Though more common in my homeland, I was surprised that the proprietor keeps these for her patrons and was kind enough to let me brew them in the kitchen."

Nells took one sip and her eyes widened. "Tastes… potent," she coughed, clearly fighting to stay polite, but finally gave in and hacked and gagged.

"That is why you must drink all of it in one turn."

The first mate steeled herself, but then struggled to down the tea, half-retching while the mug was still at her lips. Nells finally put the mug down, heaving, then went still. She raised her head and exhaled.

"It works," Nells hailed.

The captain took one look at her own mug, shrugged her shoulders then tilted her head and poured the tea down her throat. Spasms, a bit of spewing, mug and fists pounding on the table, curses croaked out, a long pause, then a huff.

"Grody," Shar-Teel gasped. "But damned quick and better than a hair of the dog."

Their dreadful doses taken, captain and first mate now looked at the boatswain expectantly. Dotie glared back defiant despite the undeniable pain on her face, cupping the mug in trembling hands.

"I prepared double the prescribed amount in your serving," Okami disclosed.

"Are ye' sayin' I be weak like some two-pot screamin' thimble guts so yer givin' me more o' this meadow mush?"

"No one disputes your prowess in the drink but excess eventually ravages your health. The solmac more than eases, it heals. More so for your indulgence last night," he answered firmly.

Dotie seemed taken aback by the admonition in his words. Irse bobbed her head in righteous support of her Teacher's reproof.

"Just drink the damned thing already," Shar-Teel egged. "Let's see if your throat is as tough as you say."

Dotie looked down at her mug, evidently hesitant.

"In consideration of the taste, I also added honey to your dose."

Captain and first mate scowled at the blacksmith, visibly piqued at being denied that bit of help.

"Teacher, you should also put san qi in Dotie's drink," Irse blurted with eagerness. There, that should show him she was keen to help, selfless, not immature, capable of rising above petty little differences.

"San qi? For what injury?"

"Her nose was bleeding a while ago, I think. Maybe she knocked her head somewhere?"

"You probably banged her noggin against the headboard. Better check if it's cracked, the board I mean, or we gotta' bail before the owner finds out," Shar-Teel snickered.

Okami tensed. "Have I been remiss in my handling? I am certain I was most gentle last night," he said with alarm.

The mug in the dwarven hands was shaking.

"I'm sure it's fine, Teacher, nothing too serious. You could've banged Dotie against anything in this inn and it wouldn't bruise nor would anyone hear a thing, see? I mean, listen," Irse said, an earnest attempt to allay his distress.

And to demonstrate her claim, Irse leaned back on her chair as far as possible without losing balance, reaching over to repeatedly pound a fist against the thickly curtained wall behind them. Likewise eager to help, Nells thumped her foot at the carpeted floor, humming her agreement with the elf.

Indeed, the all-over carpeting hushed all noise. Even the angry growl escaping through Dotie's clenched teeth.

"Yer all a bunch o' soddin' fools an' yer makin' my megrim worse!"

Everyone froze at the outburst and at the sight of the half-duergar standing indignant. Dotie gave one last irate snort, grabbed the mug, downed everything in one gulp and slammed it on the table.

"Thank ye," she said to Okami. "Fer the honey."

"You are… welcome."

And then the dwarf stomped, though with angry steps muffled, out of the common room and climbed the stairs to the rooms.

The elf blinked. "What's eating her?"

Shar-Teel smirked. "Something with a cast-iron stomach?"

Irse peered at the abandoned yet still full plate in Dotie's place. Gingerly, she pressed one finger at the edge of the dish and slowly pulled it towards herself. Seeing the others' eyes narrow at her, she sulked.

"Aw, c'mon. She didn't touch any of her breakfast," Irse reasoned. "Do you think she's coming back for it, though?"

At her Teacher's insistence, they joined the crew at the barge to fetch the ship from where it had been run aground. He must have felt responsible, even though it had been the captain's decision to crash her own ship. Which was, of course, because Safana had forced their hand with the hostages. But then it was because Okami's scuttling worked too well, the water not only filling the bilge but reaching up to the cargo hold as well.

Which wouldn't have been necessary had the crew not agreed to Safana's shady offer. Which wouldn't have mattered if the Calishite was merely hoping to catch a cheap river cruise or even looking to drag a gullible bunch to go hunting for buried pirate treasure somewhere, instead of trading in slaves.

Then she would have been alive today, enjoying the very freedoms she had stolen from others, and not dead and interred in shallow earth beyond the trees. Her choice, her consequence.

And yet, Irse wrestled with that sinking feeling in the stomach as they neared the moored boat. Almost as if she expected to see a specter standing at the shore, dark hair flowing in the wind and away from a face torn by carrion birds and a throat with a gaping mouth at the jugular.

Accept it. Just as he had said that night when they buried her.

Irse took a deep breath, grasped at the railings and leaned over as the crewmen paddled them closer and lowered the anchor. The shore remained empty. No ghost waited for her there.

Everyone disembarked and swarmed the ship like ants inspecting a discarded morsel on the floor. While the barge crew descended into the cargo hold with buckets to flush out the water, the foreman joined them in inspecting the visible parts of the hull.

"I see you've boarded up some of the holes, but there could still be hairline cracks along the keel. We can only be sure once we've taken her to the shipyard and turn the whole thing over and see for ourselves. For now, we pull her off the sandbar and haul it all back with us," he said.

Thick rope, a hawser, with the other end attached to a kedge anchor was drawn through the cat-hole on the grounded ship's bow. They put the kedge on a dinghy which they rowed out to the middle of the river where they dropped the smaller anchor. Then the men at the dinghy pulled at the hawser. With spare oars, the other laborers stood at the sandbar and pushed off at the bottom, a few of them holding on to ropes secured at the port side to ensure that the boat wouldn't list too much to its starboard once pulled back into the water.

Though barred from helping, Irse watched the process, fascinated. It seemed only that little effort was required to sail a great craft through the waters, steered by none other than a little wheel at the helm. A single contraption quite small compared to the sails and to the rudder it controls. And all it would take was the pilot's whim, their thought, their idea, to take everything wheresoever they desire.

And yet, much work to be done to right a vessel that had lost its course, strayed from the waters and run aground.

"It sure takes a lot of people to get a ship back into the water," she remarked at her Teacher as they observed from their place at the barge.

"Were the conditions favorable, the water of sufficient level, then we might have been able to perform this ourselves. But then, we cannot do all things by our own hands. Sometimes we must turn to others, better equipped and better learned than us, for aid."

"Right. But why are they pulling against the current? Wouldn't it be easier to pull along with the tides and just let the waves help to push the boat into the water?"

"Yes, the waves will. But this is now a ship without its own control, the rudder likely damaged. Were they to pull along with the tides, the waters will drive the vessel forward but with no telling whether the currents shall hit the port or starboard. Given the unpredictable force and direction, the ship might entangle with the hawser and crash again or worse."

"Rather than fix things, trying to make it easier might only make it worse?"

"You understand. Not all the time is it wise to go with the flow. One must stand back and gauge if the best course might be to go against the stream instead."

Cries of effort filled the air as the team of laborers pulled at the hawser.

"Even when it will be difficult, and yours are the only hands at the rope."

Irse nodded and glanced at his hands resting upon the railings, then turned her eyes back to the water.

They stood at the docks, watching as crates were loaded on the next ship to Iriaebor. Their fare had been waived by the captain of that boat after seeing the Harpers' letter to the Harbormaster. Now all that was needed was for them to await the last call for passengers, and to say their farewells.

But before that, Irse knew she herself must bid goodbye to a new friend, one that had been made only yesterday, yet one she would never forget.

She walked over to a hawker. "Ten goldenstars, please," she said to him with a bit of heaviness in her heart and stomach at the realization that she would not be having the tasty pastries again.

But as she watched the vendor cook up her order, a question gnawed at her. It had crossed the mind, only fleetingly the first time she bought them, but the crackle of frying oil and a rumbling stomach had been louder. She had to ask the question, now or never.

"Wait, sir. What's in these?" she asked, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Dotie exclaimed incredulously, "Ye were eatin' those all night an' askin' only now?"

The peddler stammered for a moment at the question. "Er, chopped sausages, turnips, and sauce made from cream and chicken stock."

And in recollection of the often-odd inventory of herbs and plants at Brother Karan's apothecary…

"And no strange mushrooms? Nothing that you could eat that will make you see funny things?"

"Why, none. No mushrooms in these at all."

"And the sausages? What are they made of, exactly?" Irse continued with her interrogation.

"Eh, pork and pork trimmings," the peddler said, taking on a worried face at the line of questioning.

"Great! Make it twenty goldenstars then!" Irse cheered as she dug into her pocket for coin. Best twenty coppers she will ever spend in her life.

"Had to make sure of what one puts in their stomach, you know," she explained with an awkward grin. She paid the hawker and offered the goldenstars to the rest of the crew who each took a piece.

"Someone oughta' warn the poor sod who marries her," Shar-Teel said, sniffing at the pastry in her hand. "He's gonna have to get used to ants all over the house. Maybe even the bed."

"Noted," Okami replied solemnly. "Worry not. The warning will be relayed when the time comes."

Irse made a wry face at hearing their talk. Ew, marriage.

It had always been a source of mystery to her how one could make the choice to be with another for the rest of their lives. Sure, Winthrop and his wife, Marna, were a loving old married couple but the constant ribbing and bickering hardly made for the romantic love-at-first-sights and happy endings so profusely praised in the storybooks. More so the Keep's laborers, men or women, who constantly complained about their spouses back in the village below. The Avowed were mostly celibate, not by rule or tenet, but simply because their calling seemed to have little space of time and mind for things that were not books and for learning. And then there was Gorion, who had never taken a wife and raised a family before his life behind the walls, and yet for some reason decided to adopt an orphan elf as his own.

Once she did try to imagine such fate for herself, but it was futile. Of course you'll marry an elf because you're one, a laundry woman at the Keep had chided her. But then, what would it be like? Five hundred years of gazing elvishly into each other's eyes and doing what – elven things, whatever they were?

Irse realized her imagination lent more to putting a face on a slice of midwinter fruitcake than on her future husband. And fruitcakes were more, well, filling, she reasoned, with their nuts and candied fruit. Which husbands have none of.

The final boarding call was sounded.

Dotie grabbed at Irse's sleeve and yanked hard, forcing the girl to bend forward awkwardly at the waist.

"Now don't be muckin' about pokin' yer nose into any more trouble," the dwarf sternly hissed at the elf's face.

"'Cause if ye be gettin' yerself an' him into another soddin' mess, I be huntin' ye down to the ends of the realms and breakin' yer pointy weedy kneecaps, ya hear me?"

Irse straightened herself and saluted. "Yes, Ma'am!"

She beamed as she watched Dotie and her Teacher shake hands; Okami leaning his head in deference as if the half-duergar was taller, greater than him. Irse's keen eyes noted the pudgy fingers holding on a little too tightly, a little too longer at her Teacher's hand, but felt no grudge this time. Only a strange wave of grateful affection.

Nells seemed wistful and overwhelmed. She clasped her hands, breathing in deeply as if to gather the words, then held the young elf at the shoulders.

"I'm glad we met you and Mister Okami. We all are. We're grateful," she said.

"Me too," Irse replied, smiling. "I'll remember everything you've told to me. I'll never forget." Including the ship's name.

"I wish you luck and the Seldarine's blessing in finding your parents," Nells added. "As my grandmother always said whenever she's looking for anyone or anything in the forest…"

The half-elf pulled Irse to an embrace.

"What you seek, is also seeking you," Nells whispered and let go. "Remember that."

Irse rubbed her nose, grinned, and mouthed her thanks.

"So this is goodbye then," Shar-Teel finally said, the edge a bit too rough in her voice. "'Guess we'll see you 'round, you sorry sops."

Blacksmith and apprentice faced the crew and bowed with deepest respect.

"Captain," Okami declared. "It has been an honor."

Shar-Teel raised a forefinger at her temple and saluted him.

The pair boarded the vessel, the gangplank taken up, and the ship setting sail. Irse waved at them as they pulled away. The distance grew and they walked to the stern to catch a final glimpse of the women who had been their companions these past weeks. Though to the young elf it felt almost like a lifetime.

"The gods and fate be kind to them," Okami murmured to the winds.

From her view the bridges of Berdusk eventually disappeared. She looked around, seized by an odd feeling that for once, she was truly a passenger. The young elf fought the urge to march over to the first mate and ask for the sounding line or a bucket and mop. Nothing else to do for now but to watch the ripples on the water.

"The journey will take a day. Use the time to rest," he said.

"Yes, Teacher."

A day between now and Iriaebor.

And how many more between then and her final step?

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And scribblings brief:

I'm sorry, Dotie. This chapter was supposed to be a very educational and informative procedure manual on the mechanics of ship hauling and repairs, but your crewmates grabbed the script and sailed away with it.

Centuries from now, Irse will take her reverie, relive this particular day, realize the things she had said and go - OH GODS WHY. ಥ_ಥ