Travel interludes

That day, Adran had foraged and Elowin had hunted, and together they provided a bunch of greens (mostly watercress and miner's lettuce), roots (daikon), and fowl (three partridges).

Jalon grins appreciatively, showing all his teeth as dragonborn do when they try to approximate that mammalian expression. "Thank you for the meat. I don't know what I'm going to do with all this...make a stew, I suppose."

Flint, the dwarf who has been driving the gnome's wagon, groans theatrically. "Oh, no - not stew again!!" Jalon looks shocked, his massive, toothy jaw hanging open. Flint chuckles.

The gnome sage Findal smacks his driver Flint in the shoulder. "Flint, be kind! He doesn't see that you're joking!"

Tesko clears his throat noisily. When no one responds to this opening, he exclaims with exasperation, "Why don't you just ask me if you need my help?" Jalon's jaws close with a snap, and the dragonborn looks levelly at the chef. "I am the most celebrated food artisan of Mara! I could make such wonderful dishes with what has been provided!"

Swelvie passes the bottle to her driver, Salt, and looks with clear jealousy at Belany, who is enjoying berries that Adran found in his foraging and is sharing with her. "What I want to understand is what a woman needs to do to get some male attention around here." Salt rolls his eyes and takes a swig.

Belany delicately licks juice from her fingers and raises an eyebrow. "Based on my own experience," she flicks her eyes quickly at Morik and Adran, "If you ignore them, don't respond to them, give them no encouragement at all, and make it clear that you'd rather be alone, they won't leave your side." She takes another cluster of berries from Adran, pops it in her mouth, and nods thanks to him. "As much as I prefer solitude, I will admit that there are some benefits."

"Are you saying I'm trying too hard??" Swelvie's voice raises in pitch and volume.

"No, I didn't say that." Belany smiles thinly at the younger woman across the fire.

Turighe smiles handsomely at Swelvie. "Mistress Swelvie, please don't feel slighted. I am always happy to provide a beautiful woman some masculine companionship!" Swelvie looks at him up and down, as blank-faced as when Jalon the dragonborn looked at Tesko. Then she turns away, and takes the bottle from Salt again. Turighe's smile fades, and then he turns to the rest of the group with a new grin. "Well, I guess there's no pleasing some people!"

Just then, Gavath returns to the fireside. "The horses are all set for the night. What's for supper?" Tesko huffs. Jalon ladles out a bowl of partridge stew for the groom. "Oh...Stew again, huh?"

Flint cackles.

After everyone has eaten for a while and people are a bit less tetchy for having their hunger sated, Dugal the dwarf caravan master notes that some of the drivers look a bit pensive. He nods and addresses a comment in the direction of Turnip, the kar'Javon's halfling driver: "Tomorrow we should reach the Thile crossroads."

The halfling nods, and pokes a stick into the fire. "Yes, that's right. My folks say we've got family there. I guess a lot of us halflings do." He pokes the fire again. "I've never been, though. Not yet."

Smoke spits into the fire with a sizzle. "I've been. It's not that great. Buncha fishing villages, mostly. They don't take to outsiders much." Swelvie reaches across and offers her cup; Smoke grabs the cup with both hands, takes a swig, and then sighs appreciatively. "Thanks!" he hands it back to her carefully.

"I heard it's wonderful!" Ferona, the young halfling driver of Turighe's wagon, interjects. "And why wouldn't it be? An island homeland for our people? How could that NOT be the best??" Turighe claps. "My mom's parents came from Thile; I heard so many stories about it growing up!" She subsides a bit, staring into the fire. "Someday I'll go and live there." She notes the others' expressions and misreads what she sees. "I will, too!" Smoke and Turnip raise their hands placatingly, and nod in agreement.

Smoke replies, "I was about your age when I went to Thile, before. I had all the same dreams..." He stops himself, seeing her expression. "Well, I don't know your dreams, of course. But I desperately wanted to see this place that was just for halflings like me. And a lot of it was good. I'll probably return again, someday, but not to stay."

Salt, the young dwarf driver of Swelvie's wagon, frowns a bit at this. "I don't understand. You say it was good, but you don't want to stay with your people?"

Smoke sighs. "Well, that's the thing, isn't it? They're halflings, sure, but they're not really my people. Or at least, not all of my people." The fire shifts a bit as a log cracks in half with a snap, sending sparks up into the night sky. "I've spent too long on the roads. This one knows," he says pointing at Dugal, "And this one, too, I reckon," pointing at Princess. "It's all well and good to spend time with people who are like you, have the same traditions as you, like the same foods as you, grew up singing the same songs as you. But when you've traveled as much as I have, you also start to relish the differences. The locations, the languages, the people," he gestures broadly at the motley, diverse members of the caravan, from the small halflings and the gnome staring into the fire with glinting eyes to the hulking, overweight dragonborn stirring the pot over the fire. and the food! I like food from everywhere! And you can't get that variety in Thile. It's a bunch of villages, but it's all halflings. I grew tired of not seeing any big folk around. No, I'd rather settle down in a cosmopolitan city like Mara or Grayhaven!"