Reluctantly Rogue Pt. 01 Ch. 017

(Note: This is a long, ongoing story. It is a story with sex. It's a sexy story. It is in many ways a story about sex. But, it is not strictly a sex story. Many chapters may even be SFW.

This chapter is about shopping and flowers. It is very, very SFW!)

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Daggers and Wildflowers

Something was pinching Atyr's nose. He brushed sleepily at it, but his hand found nothing. Eyes shut tight against the morning light, he rolled over and threw an arms across his eyes. He had the room to himself. He could sleep until midday if he wished.

Something tweaked his nose again. He jerked his head back and swatted blindly, before settling back into the pillow. Something yanked one of his nose hairs right out. His eyes flew open and he shot upright with an undignified yelp. Pesky lounged triumphantly on his pillow, staring up at him.

"Hello my love. Do we leave town this morn?"

"What fate-forgotten, fae-cursed, luckless shitlick of a reason was that for?!"

"I was bored. You sleep so muuuuuch." She rolled over, sprawling in a chaos of tiny limbs on the pillow and faked a loud snore. "I'm Atyr, snoooore, sleeping all day, snooooore."

He just looked at her, then swung his legs out of bed and walked over to the door to grab his pack.

"Hey, dummy."

"What, Pesky." He had hoped to wake up late, feeling relaxed and eager for the day. Now he just felt irate.

"You still have a cute butt."

He ignored her and began to get dressed.

"And a nice cock."

"Fae take you! Do you mind?"

"Not at all. They're both nice."

He threw his shirt at her. Throwing clothes at her was almost a tradition. "I'm not leaving town today. I have something to do this evening near the Birdhouse. I'd like to do it by myself." He glared at her. "Can I trust you to give me some privacy?"

"Oooh, something to do? Or someone to do?'

"Stop."

"Are you meeting Kella again?" As usual, she spoke the name with the weirdness to her voice, the simple word manifesting as an almost impossibly arousing pair of syllables. He pretended to be unaffected.

"No, I'm not meeting Kella. Well, I don't know maybe, but-- Look, can you just agree to give me some space today? We can meet up back here at Gant's tonight. Alright?"

Pesky drifted around the room, stroking her chin dramatically. "Hmmm, I don't believe that I believe you."

"Can we just agree to meet back here at Gant's?"

"Yes." She nodded firmly.

"Yes?"

"I agree to meet you back here at Gant's tonight."

"Oh. Perfect. Thanks." He hadn't actually expected her to acquiesce that easily. He also wasn't sure if agreements were as sacred to Pesky as they seemed to be to Mr. Helliot.

Atyr knew, somewhere in his head, that it was important he spend the day considering Helliot's request, and, should he choose to accept it, figuring out what he would ask for in return. In reality, he spent the day wandering the small town, poking about in the few small shops for something Kella might like. Flowers would have been the obvious gift, but flowers were free, and he was a young man with three banners and nineteen kips in his pocket. Surely there was something better he could find.

He looked first at jewelry; rings, bracelets, necklaces, cuffs... He imagined how each little trinket might look; on her slender wrist, nestled at her throat, sparkling in her ears. There was a pair of earrings with small dark stones the color of her eyes. But, he began to worry that jewelry was a bit too much, too soon. After all, they had only spent a single afternoon together, brief kiss or no.

At the leatherworker's he poked through a variety of pouches, belts, clothing and adornments. The clothing seemed perhaps a bit presumptuous as well. Again, it was only a simple kiss. The rest of it felt... impersonal? Too practical.

For two kips, he purchased a small, rugged, leather coin purse for himself, which fit neatly on his belt. The soft clink of metal on metal as he walked gave him a feeling of importance, but he did wonder how he would go about muffling that once back in the Brookwood. Silence was useful there, and often at unexpected times. That thought put him in mind of the wolf; he realized where his next stop should be.

Rehamel was just breaking for a midday meal, looking tired, his fire-red hair dripping with sweat when Atyr arrived, but as always he wore his cheerful smile. "Atyr, good to see you. How's the hatchet been working for you?"

Atyr held up the bit, as of yet without a haft. "Haven't had the chance yet. I did come into a bit of coin though, and thought you might be able to help me with something."

"Ah, you still longing for a saw, then?"

Atyr looked up at the wall where the big saw still hung. "I am, I am indeed. But actually, I had something else in mind."

"Happy to help as I may."

"I had a spot of trouble in the Brookwood the other day. Wolf came at me, acting all strange. I dealt with it alright and got away, but it got me thinking. Put all those old child's tales of the Oldwood in my head, I guess. Not that I believe any of that, of course, but I guess it's got me on edge." He pulled out his knife, sturdy, sharp, functional, but with a blade just barely longer than his palm. "This is really all I have to defend myself, aside from the hatchet and my bow. But really, you can't defend with a bow up close, and a hatchet isn't ideal either."

Rehamel was still smiling, as he always was, but there was a hint of concern to his eyes now. "Atyr, if you're asking for weapons... I mostly make tools, fixings, findings, clasps..."

"Mostly?"

"Mostly. I make weapons, of course, for those that have a need them but--" He met Atyr's eyes. "That's what you're asking for, isn't it? Weaponry?"

When Atyr nodded uncomfortably, the smith continued. "Look, where do you live again?"

"Just over a day's walk East down the road into the Brookwood, then half a day's trek off the road. I'm building a cabin there. It's why I want that saw so much."

The smith nodded his head side to side. "A wolf, eh? Well, alright. You live that far out I understand wanting something to protect yourself with. Only, don't go waving anything I give you around town, alright?"

"Oh, are you not supposed to? I don't want to get you into a tight spot or anything."

"No, it's not that." Rehamel shrugged, his customary smile in place once more. "I just want to be sure, when someone comes in wanting weaponry, that I'm not likely to be hearing about how some blade I made hurt someone. I just like to be careful."

Atyr nodded to show he understood. "If you'd rather not, I understand it. Lived my whole life in the Brookwood and never felt the need to go armed before. I guess that wolf just has me a little spooked."

"It's fine. You just surprised me is all." He winked at Atyr. "So, what are you in the mind for? Battleaxe? Greatsword? Halberd? Glaive?"

Atyr laughed. The smith's cheeriness was catching, as if the world were a quiet joke. "I don't think I'm even sure what those last two are... kind of like spears, right?"

"Hah. Kind of, I suppose."

"No." Atyr shook his head. "I'm not planning on going to battle in the Brookwood. I'd just like to know that next time I need to stick a wolf, I have a bit more length, more reach. A lot of the forest is dense enough that I wouldn't even be able to swing a proper weapon. Maybe just... a larger knife? The only weapon I've practiced with is the quarterstaff, and that only as childhood sport. I'm a little out of my depth, I was hoping you could help me?"

"Well, I don't tend to keep a lot of weapons around the smithy, you know. I can make you whatever you like, although I'm a bit backlogged right now." He smiled apologetically. "Will you be in town a while yet?"

Atyr bit his lip. "Actually, I was planning on setting out in the morning, early. I guess I might have to make do with my belt knife." He grinned at the red-headed smith. "A score of summers with no wolf attacks, I suppose I'll be fine as I am."

Atyr was about to drop the idea and ask about the smaller saw again, but Rehamel held up a finger. "Hang on a moment, I'll be right back." He disappeared into the rear room of the smithy, returning with a small bundle, wrapped in tattered cloth. He unwrapped the contents and handed over two long, curved daggers, in battered sheaths, blades rusted, hilts worn with use and all over sporting a dark patina of accumulated grime.

"Did some minor work for an elderly gent that came through town last fall. Quiet, bent fellow, seemed down on his luck. Traveling at his age. I felt bad for him. Anyway, he just needed some basic repair work done on his gear. Didn't have any coin, but he gave me these rusty old things. I told him he didn't need to pay me at all, but he insisted. I've been meaning to clean them up, but honestly I don't think they'd be worth much, especially given the condition."

Atyr turned them over in his hands. They had certainly seen better days, but the hilts felt solid, and they were more than twice the length of his little belt knife. These were unmistakably weapons, not tools. He looked up at Rehamel. "How much would you want for just one of them? Can't imagine what I'd need two for."

"One in each hand? Maybe one will break and you'll need the spare? Who knows." The smith grinned at him. "Honestly, what I want to say is that I have no use for them, and you can just take the both of them, but--."

"I pay my way."

"That's what I was about to say. I know you well enough to know you aren't going to let me give you this rusty pair of junk. So how about this. I'll clean them up for you tonight, you come back tomorrow morning with a kip, and I'll give them to you then."

Atyr shook his head, smiling.

"These are worth more than a kip."

"Not to me they're not. The kip's for the labour of cleaning them."

"Six kips, and I only need one."

"Five and you'll take both."

"Five for one."

Rehamel was well and truly laughing now. "If you don't accept my offer, I'm going to pay you, and force you to take both of these junky blades just to clear up a bit of space around here!" He gestured around the clean, well-kept, uncluttered smithy.

Laughing as well, Atyr relented. "Alright. Five, and I'll take both. Though what I'm supposed to do with the extra I don't know."

They shook on the deal, Atyr paid in advance, and still laughing, departed the smithy.

He wandered Woodstead until mid afternoon, with three banners and seventeen jangling in the new pouch at his belt, still agonizing over the perfect gift for Kella.

In the end, he settled on the wildflowers after all.

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Thanks so much for reading! Quiet little chapter here, but be forewarned, the next chapter ends Part One, and is definitely not quiet!

-Scrybells