All We Can Keep (Dalrun)
“No fucking way.” My voice grumbles in a harsh rumbling tongue. One matching my giant rough exterior. Old Giantfolk as humans call it, is what I’m speaking. At least I think… Not many people know it, so I use it to get that needed anger out.
The original plan was to get into Scallard, the so-called city of safety and opportunity, after being promised work in exchange for food, shelter, and coin. By some coincidence, a recent fee was just put into effect. Now, the only thing standing between me and work is a bullshit ten coin fee and two guards posted at one of the only entrances through the roughly… thirty feet wall.
The guards posted at either side of the toll booth, or guarding the gate were noticeably defensive. Typical of them, when you see a strong Giantfolk being like me who looks like they have and will kill a man built with heavy armor covering his arm and a sword to match, any guard will be put on edge.
The tiller was a thin, bald, elderly with a crooked sharp nose. He was no more than middle-aged with a velvet robe that screamed “wannabe noble”. He had a pompous air, one that already irked me upon meeting him. The way he spoke curled in an entitled manner, boasted his chest as if to show off the Scallard insignia that proved he was an official, his nose constantly stuck in the air, and every time he dared to look in my direction his jaw clenched. He wanted nothing more than to be rid of my filthy presence, and it showed.
As far as I could tell, other than my apparently hulk-ish figure, it was several other things that made me “scary” to any tinier humanoid. The scars either cut down a white cloudy eye that otherwise would have been gray or passed through the bridge of my nose. The chin beard many have said added to my “rough around the edges” appearance… or my tendency to growl or grumble in an entirely different language at the smallest inconvenience.
The flowers weaved into my muted blue hair helped passerbys from fleeing in fear, but I would still like to limit the number of screaming children and tense looks they gave me on the street. No one like me ever wants to be scary or intimidating without intending to, sometimes it just happens. In a world where scary people or things most likely want to kill you, a seven-and-a-half-foot scarface is the last thing you want to see waltzing into a tavern.
In times like these, it was a blessing to have your first language be nearly dead… Rosemary will never know this, but most of the things I say in Giantfolk are things I will never admit to saying.
Ah yes, there’s Ro; the tiny human happily fastening a crown out of wildflowers. From the content look on her face, she was completely oblivious to the bullshit being presented to me. She takes my arm and wraps the crown around my wrist like a bracelet. Her blue eyes meet mine… and I find myself smiling slightly. Awkward and tense but still a smile.
Rosemary’s features seemed to be forever locked in time, never maturing past seventeen. She turned twenty-three just a couple of weeks ago and it only took me this long to realize how young she looked. Her growth was stunted for a human, with a small torso and limbs to match. She had a head full of curled blonde hair that stopped below her waist, the biggest stark blue eyes, and freckles that hid behind a brown leather mask. She always wore a pair of dirty, rust-stained goggles, claiming they complimented the rest of her outfit. A crossbow was slung around her back that she had little to no experience using, but at least it gave me some peace of mind.
Her clothes were cute, despite our circumstances. Puffy off-white undershirt, vested with a corseted top. She had a knee-length skirt, as well as a petticoat to make it bigger, and boots that stopped mid-calf.
“We had no idea about the fee.” I turned back to the tiller. Reaching for my coin purse I present him with two gold coins and five silver. “This is all we have, could we give you this and within a month give you the ten coins.”
He scoffs. My ears, resembling one of a cow, fold backward as I try to hide any sign of aggression. I notice a guard slightly lurch forward. Figures they would get defensive. “My job is to collect fees,” The tiller adjusts his velvet robe, “Not give pity.”
I felt my stomach twist. This was our only chance. We’re out of food for travel, neither of us can hunt for shit, it’s been a chore just traveling, we have everything to start a new life in Scallard.
Well… had.
Ro pulls my sleeve, softly communicating in sign language. “How are we going to be able to pay the fee?” Her brows furrowed slightly, her eyes wide with concern. She hugs her arms, looking at the tiller who scoffs.
“We don’t.” I signed back. “We have nothing of value… I need my armor and sword.”
Ro sighs… then looks at her hand. Her eyes widen and she begins feverishly pulling on the glove. She shows me a silver ring. Embedded on it was a lotus flower crest with rays of sunlight bursting through the petals. Her ring.
“I doubt that’ll bring any value to the tiller, Ro,” I clasp her hand over the ring, unable to bring myself towards letting her sell it, “Keep it. You’ll need it someday.” I bring her hand up to my nose. I don’t know where this quirk comes from, but to me, it felt like making a silent promise.
At this point, it felt like promises were all we could keep.
