No Joke

No Joke

"Yer tryna trick me," said Tiny.

"No," said Skrie, disbelief coloring her voice. "I'm not. Sister Hatrya pulled me aside when I was at the temple yesterday. She said she got a 'sending,' whatever that means, from Tymora about me. The sister asked if I would consider becoming a novice."

"Now I knows yer jokin'," the half-orc said, chuckling. "You, a cleric?" That sent her friend into gales of laughter.

"I know, sounds ludicrous, doesn't it," said the halfling, joining her friend in a good round of hilarity. After she caught her breath, she said, looking up at Tiny, "I've been thinking about, though. It makes a kind of sense."

"How so?"

"You are the only person holding me here. Do you really thing that working for the guild master will keep me happy?"

"But ... What'll I do wit'out ye's?" the big half-orc asked, looking down at the little halfling, sorrow in his big brown eyes. "Ye been me pocket pal fer half yer life."

"Wha'd ya do 'afore I come along?" she said, slipping into street vernacular.

"Aw, now," he said, "that weren't such a good time, no." His eyes misted over.

"But, now yer in wi' the guild, Tiny," said Skrie, "Tha' should mean sum'tin'. You seen that cute half-orc watchin', I know ye have," she gave him a sly wink.

"Shayeki," he said as his gaze unfocused.

"See," Skrie chuckled, "there's a partner for ye. An' she kin give ye things I can't." Giving her friend a few minutes to consider, she continued, "'Sides, I h'ain't gave 'em a answer yet, I wanted ter talk to ye first."

Tiny looked at her. A tear rolled down his cheek.

"Thank you," he said, wrapping her in a hug. "Love ya," he whispered.