rone | i'm no r. a. salvatore

"Come now, brother, there's no need to take that tone with me," said Hôlg.

"There is nothing untoward in my tone. You mock my faith, and i do not appreciate it. And i am not your brother." Khûfal was firm, but not angry.

"Ahh, yes, half-orcs, you and i, born of rape, woe be to us, to live out this painful and miserable existence, not one nor t'other. But who's to say, in this crazy world, that our orc progenitor, mother or father, wasn't one of your Lost Orcs of Gruumsh—"

"We follow the Lost EYE of Gruumsh. WE are not lost." Hôlg could see that Khûfal was beginning to warm, and plunged ahead.

"Yes, anyway, what if our orc parent was one of these pacifist orcs who took up a human lover? They lived together and had a brood of half-breed babies. Then they were killed for their star-crossed love by elves or orcs or a gnomeling who ate the wrong kind of mushroom... yes, i see a definite resemblance between us."

"Enough." Khûfal turned away. "I am not here to entertain you. You will not help me, so i thank you for your time and bid you good day."

Hôlg sighed. "Now, now. Nothing attracts me more than a doomed quest. It is the best sort of fodder for my epic concertos. I will do it, but not for money." He pointed at the elf with his padded drumstick. "An Elven song. And not just any Elven song, but one of the ones sung during the Festival of Perilune."

Aerowyn bristled. "I'm not a singer, and i've never even been to any of those damn poncing forest festivals. Why do i have to do it?"

"Well, you're the only elf here, aren't you?" Hôlg grinned. "Don't tell them it's for a half-orc, they'll never give it to you. And don't look at me like that... you're a resourceful girl, all 134 years of you or i miss my guess. You don't need to get it now. Just give me your word you'll do it and we can set off."

Cwynton snorted. "Oh, her word, that's worth less than the clippings off a copper piece."

"Oh, she wouldn't cross merry old Hôlg. I am the most handsome and charming half-orc you've ever met, eh?"

"Shut. Up," she spit out. "I'll do it. I give you," she sneered, "my word."