Shorty & the Beast: Part Four (special preview)

Back in Earthwick Hamfist Portigardens was, to put it in the simplest of terms, a raging wreck. The moment he found Roslile’s note and digested it, he went into shock. He had no clue what to do or how to act, and for the first few hours of the day, he went around like she was playing one of her ridiculous games. It wasn’t until the day wore on and it sunk into him that his daughter was actually gone. He raced around the entire village asking if anyone had seen her. News about the sapphires reached him, as well as someone saying they saw her leaving on Noodle early in the morning.

And so Hamfist went home, going into his daughter’s room where he found things that had always been there were missing. Everything, except for the locket that had once belong to her mother. He took the locket and sat upon the edge of Roslile’s bed. After that, he never went back into the abandoned Bellmore to work. Instead he waited for his child to return home, tending to her garden so it wouldn’t be dead when she came home. Perhaps if the garden was okay, then Roslile would be as well. Wherever she was, he prayed she was safe.

Sometimes when Hamfist prayed, Roslile was getting hit over and over my Poppy. It wasn’t out of malice, it was just training. Poppy was proficient in all sorts of combat, specifically hand to hand, but she trained with all sorts of weapons as well. She told Roslile that her first ever weapon was a cat iron skillet her mother had. But after a single lesson with her, Roslile realized Poppy was the weapon.

For ages Roslile had played pretend with the handle of a broom or a stick wrapped with fabric. She thought she had some sort of knowledge on how to fight, but now. To her surprise Roslile knew nothing about combat. She had never gone up against an opponent before aside from a tree or hay bale. Poppy was half-orc, and a powerful one at that, her blows carried weight, carried purpose. She knocked Roslile on her ass easily, but she always followed up by teaching Roslile how someone, even a tiny Halfling, could fight victoriously.

“Size, in a way, does matter, but it’s what you do with your size that counts. Someone like you is built for misdirection. Don’t let them know you’re fierce and competent. Use your size to your advantage, and you’d be surprised at what you can do.”

“Easy for you to say,” Roslile grumbled, nursing a bruise on her upper arm. “No Halfling has ever been a hero.”

Poppy frowned and sat back down beside Roslile. “What’s a hero to you?”

Roslile raised her eyes to Poppy then back down at her arm. “A hero is someone who is strong, who fights for what’s right, and they win by the sweat of the brow, the strength of their heart. They defeat their enemies and-”

“Not all heroes are fighters,” Poppy explained. “Heroes don’t always use their fists or the sweat off their brows to win battles. Sometimes that’s just a bully.”

Roslile opened her mouth but closed immediately.

“Heroes happen everywhere and everyday. Even if you feel that all you did was tell us where a camp is, you probably started Obresh’s path to freedom. That’s a little heroic.” She placed her hand upon Roslile’s shoulder. “You left your home, have traveled halfway across the world, to find a way to protect your village. That’s heroic.”

“What if I fail?” Roslile’s voice cracked.

“Abelard the Snow Knight was a story my mom used to tell me and my brothers,” Poppy replied thoughtfully. “The Polar was facing a strange and sudden defrost, which turned out to be caused by a witch. So he traveled far to find this witch, along the way he met several people, helped them and their problems, and kept going. By the time he found the witch to stop her, he was weak and sick, he failed in stopping her. But the people he had helped along the way, they remembered him as a hero, and he was remembered, but the witch was forgotten.” She tilted her head and smiled at Roslile. “Does that make sense?”

Her smile was faint, but Roslile nodded her head. After each training with Poppy, she often went to rest for a while before supper. She would talk with Kyairil mostly, going over what she had learned that afternoon. Sometimes, the two would work on what they could do through their bond.

Since Kyairil’s magic was draconic in nature, especially that of the black dragon, there was acid involved. This explained why she threw up that first time they had tried, the only acid she had at the ready was stomach acid. It still made her sick to her stomach to attempt, but they were able to master a few other techniques like the hypno trick she had tried before. They were able to master several spells together, each one becoming more powerful as their bond grew. She was practicing a lot those days on the ship, training both with Poppy and Kyairil. The more she did both though, the more control she found she had. She was getting stronger physically with Poppy. And with Kyairil it felt like her mind was getting stronger.