Garryn stood quietly, the soft weight of the baby griffon pressing against his leg as it nuzzled into him for warmth. The others were gone now, their part of the journey over, leaving just him and Dora—exactly how he preferred it, since he hadn’t known anyone else that had come on the journey to find Griffons. It felt strange now, the silence after so much action, the weight of the baby griffons adding a new layer of responsibility neither of them had quite anticipated.
He glanced over at Dora, watching her adjust something or other, he was too lost in thought to notice exactly what. She moved with the same confident precision she always did, but Garryn knew that underneath it, there was probably as much uncertainty in her as there was in him. Especially now. He’d been putting off this conversation the entire journey back. So much had changed in the last month. But now, with the camp set up and nothing but the open road ahead of them, he couldn’t avoid it any longer.
The baby griffon chirped softly, sensing his hesitation, and Garryn sighed. He crouched down, giving the little creature a soft pat, letting the warmth of its tiny form settle his nerves.
He needed to tell her. She deserved to know the truth before they went any further.
Dora, he called softly, standing up again, his eyes catching hers across the campfire. We need to talk.
Dora's griffon, Dumil she had named him, was curled up in a sling across her back as he slept from the last part of their day. She had taken to carrying the animal when he got tried and trailed behind, and it had become custom for her to do so the past few days, the small cubs could only walk so much of the day as they rode the old mare, so it was easier for her to use the sling when Dumil got too tired. Her bed roll was opened, and she had just gotten done slipping her boots off and washing her hands, the back of her neck, and face from a wooden bowl of cool water, that she dumped off to the side and then refilled before handing over to him for the same. She longed to get back to her cottage, to her copper tub with the heated water cistern she had made for her house, oh, everything was better when one could bath in hot water every night.
As they had set up camp, she had put a pot on to cook over the campfire, meat and a starchy root vegetable in a thin broth, they'd run out of flour to thicken the pot a few days back. In truth, they'd need to scavenge some roots over the next part of their trip to not run out of things, unless they got close to a city within the next few days. It wasn't always glamorous camping out in the middle of no where, but she just didn't like to travel by Eluvians -- something about them made her cagey. When he had finally broken the comfortable silence between them, she had been busy dipping the soup out of the pot, and handing over a bowl with a bit of hard-tack bread in the process. She raised a brow as he stood, head tilted to the side some.
Oh? Is there something on your mind then, 'Ryn? Truth be told, she had seen him start to try and tell her something as soon as they had hit the road with their new charges in tow, but she never pressed it. Sometimes a man needed to know his own mind before he could share it with someone else, and this was something Dora knew and accepted easily enough. About? Do I have something on my face? She tried to lighten up his serious expression a little, with an easy smile.
Garryn took the bowl she handed him, though he barely noticed the warmth of the soup or the satisfying weight of the bread. Her easy smile and the gentle teasing helped ease some of the tension knotted in his chest, but not enough to keep his gaze from dropping to the fire, watching the flames dance for a moment before he finally spoke.
Not on your face, no, he said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint, almost reluctant smile. You always look like you’ve got everything under control, Dora. Probably why this feels so… odd. Saying this, I mean. You’ve always known me as someone with a plan. Someone who knew where he was going.
He sat down across from her, setting the bowl carefully beside him. The baby griffon at his side chirped again and settled into his lap, its small, feathered body a comfort as he stroked its downy neck.
But the truth is… I’ve gone and done something a bit mad. He looked up at her, his green eyes warm but tinged with uncertainty. I’ve abdicated the throne. And before you say anything, he raised a hand, preempting the shock or questions he expected to follow, it wasn’t a hasty decision. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time now. I’ve also stepped down as Lord Chancellor of Tantervale.
The weight of the words hung between them, and for a moment, he simply let them settle, his hand still idly stroking the baby griffon.
I’ve spent so much of my life doing what was expected of me, Dora. Serving a throne that never quite felt like my own. Being the face of a city that, as much as I tried, never really felt like home. It wasn’t bad, not all of it, anyway. But it wasn’t… me. And after everything that happened with the griffons, everything we’ve seen, I realized it’s time to let someone else take over. Someone who actually wants to lead, who thrives in it. I don’t.
He leaned forward, his expression softening further, though the seriousness in his tone remained.
It’s not a bad thing, truly. I feel lighter, like I can finally just… live. But it does leave me in a bit of a pickle, considering I don’t exactly have a place to call home at the moment. Guess I’m a bit of a wanderer now.
Abdicated the throne, and Not a hasty decision had Dora's mouth twitching a little, suspicions confirmed as she picked at her own bowl as he talked, chewing slowly and thoughtfully, so as not to let any of his soft words be missed by her ears, and when the man finally fell quiet, she chuckled, lifting her mug of ale and taking a long swig followed by a satisfied sound. She let the moment stretch on a little bit, as she put her thoughts together. The man, who she'd figured out, some time as they had been running for their lives, her barefoot and bound, and him just along for the run, and she'd let him have that privacy for their entire adventure getting their new charges, the sleepy griffons making welcome companions to their travels.
Homeless? That she could do something about. Well, yer highness, Dora teased, a mischievous glint in her eye as the grin spread further across her face, About time you fessed up, I thought I would be old and achy before you finally got around to telling me that. Don't expect me to act any different, you were 'Ryn before, and you're 'Ryn now, to me at least. And as for a home.. Dora took another bite of her stew, before she made her decision. Mine is yours, for now, if you want a place to be. It's small and we might get on one another's nerves here and there, but unless you're going back to one of the thaigs, findin a girl, and settling down here any time soon, you'll need somewhere you can at least leave things that you know they'll be there when you come back. And, She trailed off, thinking back to her mom and dad.
I need some help at the forge now and then that could use a man's strength. I'm strong, don't you dare say I'm not I will thump you good if you do, but, I got a project coming up that I will need help with and I don't trust just any old one to see what I'm doing. You know what's sacred to us, what shouldn't exactly be shared outside of us. But, if you're gonna insist on being wandering, All teases, from her, Garryn had quickly turned into somewhat of a great friend, and maybe, even she could see one day, a younger brother. Easy to tease, easy to want to take care of, easy to want to throttle when he put himself in danger in a fight. If this is what you truly want in your life Garryn, then I'm with you.
Garryn let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, the weight of her words settling over him like a warm blanket on a cold night. He looked down at the baby griffon nestled in his lap, its tiny chest rising and falling with soft, contented breaths, and then back at Dora, her grin both playful and sincere.
You always know how to make a man feel right ridiculous and grateful all at once, Dora, he said with a laugh, shaking his head. I wasn’t exactly expecting you to offer up your forge and home so readily, but… I’d be a fool to say no. It means a lot, truly.
The firelight flickered across his face, softening the edges of his features as he ran a hand through his hair. He felt lighter now that he’d said it, like a weight had been lifted—not just from his shoulders but from his very soul.
You’re right, though. I’m still me. Always have been, always will be. Just without the crown. And I reckon you’re probably the only person who wouldn’t let it go to my head, anyway.
He reached for his bowl, finally taking a bite of the stew. The warmth spread through him, grounding him in the moment, in the reality that for the first time in a long time, he had no grand responsibilities looming over him. Just a future he could carve out for himself, alongside people he trusted.
About that forge work, though, he added, his grin turning mischievous, you’d best not be putting me to work straight away. The way you swing that hammer, I’ll have to keep on my toes just to keep up. But if it means having a place to call home… I’ll gladly take it. Even if I’ve got to fetch your ale or scrub your copper tub to earn my keep.
The baby griffon chirped softly in his lap, shifting closer as the fire crackled between them. Garryn leaned back, his green eyes warm as they met Dora’s.
Thank you, Dora. For everything. You’ve got no idea how much it means to me. And you’re right. This is what I want. To finally live a life that feels like my own. I’m glad you’re a part of it.
Dora snorted as she tried to fight the twitching of her lips -- they wanted to curl up into a smile, to laugh, at him being silly, because Garryn was silly at times, if he felt like there was any chance she would have left him to the world to figure out things on his own. There weren't too many of them, surface dwarves, out there now, and going back to a thaig was an option, but it would be difficult to re-integrate into underground society, let alone having one's eyes quickly adjust back to no sunlight. And truth be told, Dora had lived her entire life above ground. She wouldn't be happy underneath, just like she was fairly certain Garryn would be miserable as well.
Well, you're right about that, fool and going to your head, I would knock sense into you either way. They had met, running for their lives, had spent more time on the road with one another now, than apart, as far as Dora knew. The man was a friend, and the only other dwarf she knew now. They'd take care of one another. Nah, the hammer is after you learn the proper cadence of the billows. Gotta learn when to stoke the flame, turn the billet, there's a rhythm, a music.. to the forge that is. You'll learn it. It calls to us, it's in our blood, in our very nature, to shape stone and metal like we do. It's quiet to you now, but you'll hear it in the ring of the hammer, you'll hear the singing soon enough. No need to scrub tubs. Dora grinned as she finally finished off her meal, setting the empty bowl aside and focusing on the bread now, it was the last of their fresh rations.
When I had to start on my own, I could have used someone, I know what it's like, to try and face that future on your own, so you got me, and I'm glad to be a part of it, where ever it leads you, 'Ryn.
You make it sound like I’ve got some great destiny waiting for me at the anvil, Garryn said, shaking his head with a chuckle. Can’t say I’ve ever heard the forge sing before, but if you say I will, I’ll take your word for it. Suppose I’d better start listening harder.
He leaned back on one arm, letting the quiet of the camp settle around them. The baby griffon nestled in his lap gave a soft, sleepy chirp, its tiny talons flexing against the fabric of his tunic before it tucked its beak beneath its wing.
Y’know, it’s funny. I spent so long believing my path was set in stone, that every step I took had to follow some grand plan someone else laid out for me. But here I am, sitting by a fire, no crown, no council, no expectations hanging over my head. Just a bit of road ahead and a forge waiting for me when I get there.
His fingers idly traced the soft down of the griffon’s feathers as he stared into the fire. The flames flickered, casting shadows that danced against the trees, and for the first time in a long while, he felt… content.
Feels a bit like I should be panicking about it, doesn’t it? No title, no land, nothing tying me down. But I don’t feel lost, not really. More like… unburdened. Free. It’s strange, but not in a bad way.
