17. The dwarf was missing…
Today’s Prompt
17. The dwarf was missing at least two teeth.
400 Creative Writing Prompts Workbook Story Prompts for Journaling, Blogging, and Overcoming Writer’s Block Compiled by Debra Chapoton All rights reserved Copyright © 2020 by Debra Chapoton
Response
As Samira and Eldemere alighted on the ground before the giant door in the mountain, Eldemere, yet again, muttered to himself, “I don’t like this.”
While the comment was clearly not meant for her per se (since he knew she’d be able to hear him no matter how quietly he spoke under his breath), with a slight smile on her lips, Samira replied anyway: “You have made that abundantly clear, on multiple occasions.”
He sighed abruptly, “Permission to speak freely, majesty?”
“You know you have leave to speak to me in whatever way you’d like, Eldemere. We have known each other since childhood; I hide nothing from you. You are more than second and general; you’re my friend. Perhaps the only true one I have left. Speak your mind plainly so that nothing might fester between us,” Samira offered, hoping for once he’d actually take her up on the offer. No such luck.
“Your majesty,” he began slowly, clearly choosing his words carefully despite the assurances Samira had just tried to offer, “I do not question this course of action. I do however have qualms about your chosen method of execution of this course of action. Seeking an alliance with the dwarves and their king seems wise. We were told they trustworthy and just as committed to defeating the creeping darkness as we. However, dwarves and fae have not spoken officially in over a hundred years. While we age slowly, they do not. In that time, several of their generations will have come and gone. We have no way of knowing what tales, attitudes, or prejudices these people harbor for our own.”
“All the more reason to knock on the door and ask them,” Samira said pleasantly.
“Indeed majesty-”
“Will you ever call me Samira again?” The diminutive queen interrupted with an unanticipated burst of pique.
“It would be improper, my queen.”
“Sometimes I want to damn your formality, old friend,” Samira replied with just a touch of heat to her voice.
“I am well aware, your majesty, and yet, to do so would be to damn me as my father taught my me duty and even now his voice cannot be denied,” Eldemere responded with equanimity.
“I remember that voice and so understand your hesitation well. Still, when we’re alone, I at times long for the close camaraderie of my companion and friend,” Samira said, letting just a hint of wistful regret enter her tone.
“I must remain vigilant, highness, lest I form habits that I could then accidentally slip into at the wrong time. And with that formality in mind, I again offer my objections to this particular mission.”
“You worry too much,” Samira dismissed his concerns, perhaps too abruptly in her sourness over his iron will regarding their relationship.
“And you might worry too little,” Eldemere snapped. And immediately recognized how he’d just broken his own provision. With eyes widening, he stammered, “Apologies, your majesty, that was inappropriate. Please forgive my lapse.”
In the face of Eldemere’s clear discomfort at his own outburst, Samira’s bad mood evaporated and she smiled her forgiveness at him.
Before they could continue their conversation and even before they reached the massive iron door in the cliffside, it swung ponderously open just a fraction of its width to allow a figure to amble out.
The dwarf, dressed in shabby clothes that might once have been a warrior’s garb, seemed in no hurry to talk to them, simply standing in the doorway waiting and watching them. With theatrical slowness he raised his hand to his face and picked his nose, before wiping a finger off on his leather over tunic. He yawned. The dwarf was missing at least two teeth.
Stepping forward in front of the gatekeeper, Samira spoke, “Hail, friend dwarf. I am Samira, queen of the fae.”
“You don’t say?” The dwarf replied rather nonchalantly. “And what do you want here, queen of the fae?”
Eldemere tensed at her side at what he perceived as disrespectful. Holding a hand out to her side slightly to signal to him to stand down, Samira moved a tiny bit closer to the dwarf, who was scratching his armpit (from which was emanating quite the noxious odor).
“I wish an audience with your king to discuss a matter of mutual benefit.”
“No,” said the slovenly looking dwarf who turned, re-entered the mountain, and closed the door behind him.
Samira and Eldemere looked at each other in astonishment.
