Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Damnit…”

Pacing wasn’t doing anything helpful, but Fjord couldn't just sit still in their current situation. He’d shifted all the rocks he could from the fall; the rest were too large or too heavily wedged in the pile of boulders to move. So, even though it didn't help calm his growing claustrophobia, he found himself trekking back and forth with short strides occasionally scraping his head on the low earthen ceiling.

A large section of the tunnel had collapsed from unforeseen tremors after the impromptu battle on their journey north to Felderwin. Thankfully it had helped take down one of the two large burrowing worms the group had been struggling with. Unfortunately, the party had been split because of it, and the second worm had forced Jester, Beau, Yasha, and Nott to draw their foe away towards the surface or risk the pocket Fjord, Caleb, and Caduceus found themselves in completely caving in.

Fjord paused his circling to lean his head against the impromptu wall of stone before sighing deeply and turning to his companions. The small space was lit by Caduceus' casting of the light cantrip on a larger rock that had rolled to a stop in the middle of their prison, so it wasn’t hard to spot the two. Caleb had his right arm crushed in the fall and Caduceus removed his standard wraps to fully assess the damage. He had numerous fractures throughout his forearm and wrist along with a dislocated elbow. The limb was obviously swollen and darkening to a purple, but Caleb managed to bite back most of his cries as the firbolg gently turned it over in his lap.

“Almost done, Mr. Caleb. You’re doing so well,” he was saying calmly, maybe with a little more strain in his voice than normal, but Fjord thought nothing of it considering the circumstances. He laid the arm down gently and pulled out a few items that looked like cinnamon sticks from a pouch. “Now chew on this. I’m sure your arm feels quite uncomfortable at the moment.”

Caleb shot the cleric an incredulous look but took the outstretched bark in his left hand. He was unsure of what to do with it until Caduceus shoved a piece into his own mouth, chewing slowly with his back molars. He carefully did the same, clenching his eyes and hissing through his teeth as the pain in his arm spiked closer to an unbearable amount. 

“Gah…scheiße…” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“What is it, Duceus?” Fjord asked, walking over to where the duo had settled in a corner of the rough 10 foot square that had been left in the earth. The human was leaning heavily against the firbolg’s side at this point, unsteady and unfocused.

“This is a crush injury, the worst I’ve seen,” he said as evenly as ever, taking only a moment to tuck the roll of bark he’d been chewing behind his own drooping ear. He didn’t lower his voice, but it didn’t appear like the wizard was listening as he continued to focus inward. “The muscles and tissue were damaged along with the bones in his arm, and the swelling and blood pooling are causing pressure to build which is why the pain is getting worse.” 

He took a moment to brush Caleb’s hair away from his sweaty forehead with a gentle palm. The human surprisingly responded by turning his face into Caduceus’ solid shoulder with a shuddering gasp, reaching up to clutch the firbolg’s grime covered sleeve with his shaking left hand. The bark he’d been chewing had fallen to the side, all of his focus solely on trying to maintain his composure. 

The cleric allowed the man a moment before bringing it back to his lips.

“Mr. Caleb, keep chewing on this. It’s willowbark; it’ll help with the pain some and then I can start fixing the damage.”

The wizard looked blearily at the large pink form in front of him.

“Do you understand?”

“Ja…” Caleb rasped, opening his mouth and biting down again. He kept the majority of his face pressed tightly against the healer’s form.

“Good, that’s good…you’re going to be fine,” Caduceus said steadily, running long fingers down the back of Caleb's hair. “We’ll take care of you.”

Fjord crouched down in front of the two, concern evident on his face; his eyebrows were raised.

“You can, right?” he asked in a low voice. “Fix him?”

Caduceus gave a nod, his eyes hooded with exhaustion from the stress of the day. “I have one healing spell left, but then I’m tapped until morning.”

Confused, Fjord’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why haven’t you used it on him yet?” His eyes darted back to Caleb who let out something close to a whimper.

Caduceus sighed. “Need to make sure I set everything correctly, resituate the fractures and the elbow, otherwise he could lose full mobility in that arm. Could even lose function of some fingers.” 

The cleric didn’t need to explain the full extent of his concern. Even as an amateur spellcaster himself, Fjord knew just how important a mage’s dexterity was to his casting. His mind froze as he thought of the delicate motions and signals Caleb made for a number of his spells. A mage without the use of a hand…he was sure the wizard would adapt, he wouldn’t dare underestimate the human again, but he didn’t want the man who had already overcome so many struggles to be handed another.

Caduceus sighed, resting his wide palm on the back of Caleb’s neck. The human was completely focused on the bark and it seemed to be making some sort of difference - his breathing had evened out slightly, only being lost to a hitch every dozen or so breaths.

“I’d rather not do what I have to  without some kind of pain relief.” At that moment, the firbolg pulled his own piece from behind his ear. “In ideal circumstances, I’d add this to some tea but…well…” He waved the little curled wood around their stone prison before chomping down on it again himself.

“Are you hurt?” the half-orc asked, noticing the slight crease of pain between the firbolg’s eyes and how purposefully he was macerating the stick of natural pain relief. He thought back to the moment after the ceiling collapsed before the cleric cast the light spell; Caduceus’ torso had been partially wedged under a few large stones at the edge of the remaining open space. It seemed easy enough for the two of them to shift the rocks and slide the firbolg from underneath, but he hadn’t had a chance to check on him since discovering Caleb’s entire arm had been completely pinned. Fjord wasn’t quite sure how he himself remained practically unscathed from the day’s events. “You must be pretty sore.”

Caduceus made a thoughtful noise before lightly waving his hand again. “A little banged up here and there but better than our friend.” He attempted to clear his throat. “Do you have any water on you?”

Fjord passed his waterskin from the bag of holding and watched the cleric take a mouthful of water, swishing it around to clear his teeth from the bark and dust particles, before tenderly pulling Caleb away from his shoulder to drink as well. 

“Slowly…slowly now…” he was murmuring. “I need to make sure this settles, and then I’ll get to work, alright?”

“Ja…ja...”

The man nodded wearily with unfocused eyes before shuddering and curling limply back into Caduceus’ side, his loud trembling breaths filling their space. He was alarmingly pale, his forehead beaded with sweat that the dust easily stuck to. The firbolg supported him there with a steady arm around his shoulders for a few moments before his long fingers felt along the human’s neck, resting against a pulse point.

“Mr. Fjord,” the healer turned sharply, “can you help me situate him? We can’t wait anymore.”

“Of course. What’s going on?” The warlock couldn’t help but notice the change in tone surrounding this situation.

“He’s going into shock and that’s not good.”

At Caduceus’ gesturing, Fjord took Caleb’s legs while the firbolg held his shoulders, cradling his head against his broad torso and making sure his injured arm was situated on his own chest for the time being. Together they lowered him to the ground, elevating his legs on one of the many rocks available to them. Caleb moaned slightly, the whites of his eyes showing more often than his pupils, the cold sweat and dirt smudges not hiding the ashen appearance of his skin.

“Okay, Mr. Caleb,” Caduceus muttered, kneeling at his side and gingerly grasping his arm. “I’m sorry for this, but it has to be done."

He looked up with solemn wide eyes.

"Mr. Fjord, I’m going to need you to hold him down.”

The warlock couldn’t remember experiencing fear like this before - the fear of causing pain to a friend - but he placed his calloused hands on the wizard’s shoulders and prepared for the human to buck him off.

Caduceus let out a deep sigh. “Here we go…”

Chapter Text

Caduceus knew that there was a time to be soft and a time to be firm when it came to healing. 

Being soft was easy - soothing noises, slow movements, keeping the calm, gentleness and tenderness of touch…

Being firm however…

He was strong in his faith and willpower, his trust in the Wildmother unwavering, but for injuries that required forceful, confident movements pulling whimpers and half-bitten cries through ragged throats…he never got used to those. They were vital in order for patients to recover, and he understood that, but it never made the inflicting of a necessary pain any easier.

Even though Caduceus’ large ears had pulled themselves back, he could still hear every pop and snap and shift of bone being set back into place, could still hear every sharp gasp and whimper until Caleb mercifully faded into unconsciousness. He glanced over at the half–orc kneeling beside him. Fjord seemed paler than usual as he refused to look anywhere but at where his scarred knuckles were still holding down the human’s shoulders. 

By the time Caduceus’ fingers made their second pass over the grotesquely swollen and mangled arm, checking for any obviously misaligned fractures or dislocations, he was also unsteady. The cleric had fallen into the habit of casting Calm Emotions whenever he felt like this, anxiety that started and developed over the many years he spent alone, and if he had any more spell slots available to him, he certainly would have cast the enchantment then. 

Instead, the firbolg bent over even further where he knelt beside the wizard, his face almost horizontal with the floor, and spread his fingers out along Caleb’s elbow to the top of his hand. He cast his final healing spell: mending the shattered bones, stabilizing the dislocated elbow, stemming the collective bleeding, and stopping the internal swelling and growing nerve damage, reversing it as best a Cure Wounds spell could. He closed his eyes envisioning the spread of the Wildmother’s magic coursing through each muscle fiber and tendon, realigning and alleviating the wizard’s agony.

There was a beat of pure stillness that froze the three friends in place, creating a tableau depicting their absolute support of each other.

Then Caduceus let out a soft sound that could have been a contented sigh or a weary chuckle, and, when Fjord finally looked up, the crushed arm appeared to have simply been bruised from the rock fall. 

“Woah…” Fjord breathed, his heavy drawl faltering in the moment of awe that often overtook him after witnessing a massive display of divine magic. He sat back, releasing Caleb’s shoulders and letting out a deep exhale that caught for a moment in his dry throat. “Well, that sure was something…”

His eyes wandered up past the mottled skin to the backs of the slightly trembling velveteen hands, moving minutely to hover over the limb. The firbolg’s breathing seemed almost too focused, inhaling through his broad nose and exhaling out his mouth evenly.

“Caduceus?” Fjord attempted to look into his friend’s face, his shoulders still hunched forward, hair falling in just a way to obscure the majority of his features…pink eyes still closed. “Hey, Duceus, you alright?”

He reached out, putting a hand against the boney shoulder in a way to encourage the larger man to sit back and focus on him, but at his slight touch, any tension holding Caduceus together left him and he fell limp. If Fjord wasn’t there to catch him, the cleric would have slumped atop Caleb, but the half-orc managed to lunge forward enough to hold the lanky upper body against his own. 

“Hey, hey! Duceus!” He shook him lightly. “Caduceus?”

It was awkward, but Fjord managed to drag the giant-kin over to lean against the stone pile serving as a wall and began frantically eyeing the healer for any injuries he would have omitted in the focus on their hurt friend. He didn’t see any. No gushes of blood, no obviously jutting broken bones. There wasn’t much to hide on the man’s lithe seven foot frame, but Fjord remained obviously concerned even when the pale eyelashes started to blink back to awareness.

“Hey, man, you with me?” he caught himself breathing out in a rush at the realization of just how terrified he was at the prospect of being left alone in this claustrophobic-prison-nightmare of a situation. He brushed the long pink strands of hair behind an ear wanting to get a better look at Caduceus’ face and urge him to come back to awareness. “You awake?”

A sound like a slightly disgruntled bear came from the semi-conscious man, but eventually pink eyes opened and met the half-orc’s gold.

“Hey, there, Mr. Fjord,” he whispered slowly with his signature half smile, his face holding its standard calm expression as if he hadn't just blacked out in the other man’s arms. “Sorry about that.”

“What was that? Are you alright?”

“I believe so…” Caduceus furrowed his brow and closed his eyes for a contemplative moment. His side throbbed lightly and a few minor scrapes stung, but nothing felt dire enough that a solid day or two of rest wouldn’t solve. “Hmm…yea,” he sighed, opening tired lids. “It appears that the events of today have simply…proved too much.”

“What does that mean?” 

If the firbolg’s calm demeanor was meant to mitigate Fjord’s panic, it wasn’t working. The chuckle Caduceus let out next certainly didn’t quell any of his growing anxiety. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired, Mr. Fjord. I used a lot of spells after missing a full rest last night, and it’s not often that I reach my limit.” He rolled his shoulders, trying to stretch some of the aches away. “Being a conduit for the Wildmother seems to have finally caught up with me.”

“You’re sure?” Fjord continued, glancing up and down the larger figure one last time. 

Caduceus nodded. “Just mentally, physically, and spiritually exhausted.” 

He cleared his throat and was quickly handed the waterskin. His eyes softened at the gesture and he took a moment to drink deeply, suddenly realizing how thirsty he was. 

“I apologize for making you worry, my friend.”

Fjord, still not fully comfortable with organically tender moments, gave a small cough and rubbed the back of his neck, breaking eye contact and settling back on his knees between his two companions. From growing up in the orphanage to joining the crew of a sailing vessel, this was the only time he felt he’d made actual connections within a group. And while he still wasn’t fully open to sharing everything about his past with them, he was allowing himself to fully trust in their growing abilities…and their unending loyalty. 

Mollymauk was proof of that.

Caleb made a soft sound, drawing their attention back to the unconscious wizard. His face had regained some color under the grime and he was breathing more easily. His bruised arm lay straight again, the white scars left behind from his past experimentation standing out starkly against the purple and yellow watercolor shades. 

“That sure was something…” Fjord started to say just as his attention was snatched back by the shuffling sounds of Caduceus pushing away from the wall and attempting to get up. “What are you doing?” 

The cleric, however, wasn’t paying attention to him. One of his hands steadied himself against the wall as he crouched while the other was rumaging with a purpose through his healer’s kit. He looked about ready to lose his balance, so Fjord shot a hand out to rest against the front of his green beetle armor, keeping him from falling forward again.

“Hmm, mister…” Caduceus cleared his throat, swallowing hard. Fjord felt a shudder run through the form he was once again supporting. “Mr. Caleb’s elbow and wrist should be splinted and wrapped.” He held up a roll of bandages and a few short and sturdy looking twigs. “For a day or two…or at least until we can spare another…healing spell...”

The little bit of exertion he’d spent was enough to bring a layer of sweat across Caduceus’ forehead, and he didn’t notice the black spots dotting his vision until they fully cleared and he found himself leaning back against the rocks again, Fjord’s hand cushioning his head and anxious face peering down at him.

“Huh…” the firbolg breathed out in surprise, not expecting to have lost another section of time.

“You just stay put, you hear?” Fjord said firmly, hand still pressing against the green breastplate. “Let me wrap Caleb up; I’ve splinted plenty of injuries before, but you can walk me through it if you really want to make sure I’ve done it right. I don’t need you passing out too.” He held his hand against the firbolg’s chest for a moment before letting go with a meaningful, “Do this for me, okay, Duceus?”

“Ah yea…yea that sounds like a good idea,” Caduceus said with a wan smile, handing over the contents from his kit for Fjord to use. “And I trust that you know how to splint an arm. Please don’t think I was doubting your competence; taking care of people just seems to be ingrained in me, I suppose. I’ve been tasked with the care of others for…hmm…” He paused for a thoughtful moment, fingers raised in contemplation to rest momentarily against his chin. “Would you believe that I can’t think of a time when I wasn’t?”

Fjord was carefully placing the three supports around the arm, one on the left, one on the right, and the last on the ventral side to help stabilize the wrist. He looked up toward Caduceus at his, probably rhetorical, question to find that the cleric had put his full trust in his abilities. He had leaned his head fully back against the stones and shut his eyes. 

“How do you mean?” It was probably the half-orc’s own selfish desire that pushed him to keep his companion awake, but he really didn’t know how much longer they would be trapped or Caleb would be unconscious or the light cantrip would remain…it wasn’t a secret that Fjord was the most skittish of the Mighty Nein and he really didn’t want to be alone down there.

“Hmmm?” Caduceus blinked and Fjord purposefully caught and held the firbolg’s gaze. 

“Want to tell me about it?”

“Well…hmmm…alright. I’ve told you that I have a large family, right?” 

He received a nod before the warlock continued securing the bandages around Caleb’s newly splinted arm. The firbolg shifted slightly, trying to lean forward a bit but failing to gain much purchase without pulling at his sore side. 

“Well, ah…only a few of us were trained as clerics and I’m one of them. My aunt started my dedication to the Wildmother and training in the healing arts fairly early in my life.” 

He closed his eyes again, remembering his family. Thinking of the personalities he hadn’t interacted with, the bodies he hadn’t held in…how long had it been? 

“That and growing up with siblings can…uh…can foster a sense of protection that lasts for most, if not all, of your life.”

Fjord finished tying off the strips of rough cloth, checking to make sure they weren’t tight enough to cut off any circulation, and settled back to sit by Caduceus.

“I never had much of a family, Duceus. My earliest memories are at the orphanage in Port Damali.” He absentmindedly rubbed at the dirt collected in the ridges of his palms. 

“I’m sorry, my friend. I didn’t mean…” 

A large palm was placed on Fjord’s shoulder, and he leaned into it.

“I know you didn’t,” he said quickly, “and I’m not looking for pity or anything. I just want you to explain. Can you tell me what it’s like to have brothers and sisters?”

Caduceus’ eyes crinkled this time when he smiled.

“Ah…I think you’re starting to know what it’s like,” he said meaningfully, before leaning back again and closing his eyes. He pulled up memories of Clarabelle, then Calliope, and eventually…Colton. “I’m not the oldest or the youngest of the children in my family, which means that for some time I was the one everyone looked after until Clarabelle was born, and my earliest memories are about keeping an eye on her and teaching her the ways of the Grove. Where there were safe places to go. What not to touch or eat…children really are terrible at keeping themselves alive.”

He coughed at the remaining dust particles in his throat from the collapse, and Fjord handed him the waterskin again. After a drink and a polite nod, he continued.

“We were often tasked to go places together and focused on keeping each other safe from the corruption leeching the Grove. And, yes, there were times we failed each other.” Fjord noticed the firbolg’s fingers gently touch his own knee at a memory. “But no matter how upset we were with each other, we always forgave and we always moved forward. And…I haven’t…” he cleared his throat again. “I…hmm…I’m just realizing how long it’s been since I’ve seen them. Being a part of a group of seven again…it’s a lot.”

The fuchsia eyes appeared pained for a moment before they pulled away to look at the earthen ceiling. 

“You miss them.” It was a statement that Caduceus nodded at before closing his eyes again with a sigh. “And you don’t know how long it’s been?”

“The patterns of every season run together over time. Years…I know I’ve missed out on years with them. Mr. Fjord…” He tilted his head forward, easily finding Fjord’s gaze. “What if they’re dead?”

“Well…”

“They very well could be…”

Fjord raised his hand. “Now, Caduceus, we both know just how much wiser you are than me, but I don’t think it’s helpful to start talking like that.”

“Hmmm…” he sighed. “You’re right. It is rather easy to become a little bleak while stuck in a situation like this…in a place like this...” He settled back to rest against the cavern wall, peering out with half lidded eyes. “Now…heh, I hate to do this, but would you forgive me if I took a bit of a nap? I figure I’d ask, but I’m starting to feel like I soon won’t have any say in the matter.” His mouth quirked up with a breathless chuckle.

Fjord did his best to keep his face neutral, trying to trust that everything was as fine as it could be considering their circumstances. “I understand; it was a long day and you look exhausted.”

“Mmm, yea…hopefully Jester will be calling soon,” the firbolg let his eyelids fall. “The light spell I used lasts for an hour so that will probably go out soon, but you can wake me to recast it if you’d like…”

“Thanks…” He leaned a little closer to the larger man, just so their shoulders touched, and remembered waking Caduceus with a nightmare of his own days earlier. “Don’t worry, I’ll be here keeping an eye on things.”

The half-orc wasn’t sure if the firbolg heard him since Caduceus’ breaths almost instantly evened out. Gently he capped the waterskin and took it from the slumbering man’s grasp then adjusted his own posture to mimic how he’d seen the cleric meditate in the mornings and attempted to find some enlightenment for himself.

Chapter Text

There were none of Caduceus’ standard rumbling snores as Fjord focused on the soft breathing of his companions while he meditated. He wasn’t sure who he was really focusing on or reaching out to, if anyone, but the clerics both seemed to be big proponents of the activity, and it wasn’t like he had anything better to do except wait for Jester or Nott to send a message. 

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been at it when he opened his eyes again. By that time the light spell had worn off. He spent a moment letting his eyes adjust to the dimness his darkvision allowed and froze hearing a shifting from in front of him…followed shortly by a breathy groan.

“Caleb?”

The movement froze at his voice.

“Ja. H-hello?” Fjord watched the human shift his raised feet off their perch and get his good elbow underneath him to raise himself up. “F-fjord? I-I can’t see you.”

“Oh right, we’re still stuck underground and the light spell wore off a little while ago. Here…” He crawled forward and took Caleb’s good hand; the wizard jumped at the touch, but the tangible focus allowed his eyes to stop their searching in the dark. He let out a hiss at jostling his splinted arm, and Fjord squeezed his hand in what he hoped was a comforting way. “Be careful of that. Caduceus gave you the last of his healing, but you’re still pretty banged up. Try not to move it too much.”

“And the two of you?” his voice took a slight tinge of concern. ”You’re both alright?”

“Yea, we seem to be other than the odd knock here and there.” He sighed, still holding onto the human sitting blindly in the dark. “Duceus is just taking a nap. He was pretty tired after everything and, after getting you patched up, there hasn’t been much else to do. I can wake him if you're in pain...”

Caleb quickly refused. "No, I'm alright. There’s been no word from the others?” 

Fjord shook his head, but then realized that although Caleb was staring in his direction, he was in fact still sitting in darkness. “Nothing, but I’m trying not to worry. The worm they were fighting seemed to be on its last…legs…if it had legs. You know what I mean.” Caleb used his imagination to picture the dismissive wave Fjord gave, feeling the air disperse in from him from the gesture. “And if Jester was as tapped for spells as the rest of us, we may need to wait until she’s had time to rest to send us a message.”

“Hmm…” Caleb agreed. “And Nott’s messaging spell is unable to pass through a foot of stone.”

Fjord watched him blink hard in the dark and wondered if he was imagining the slightly panicked look on his companion's face.

“Duceus said to wake him if we needed the light spell recast.”

“Nein, nein. Let him sleep.” The wizard took his hand from Fjord and waved it dismissively. “One moment.” 

Caleb fumbled in his pocket for some phosphorus and motioned with his left hand to cast his dancing light spell. It seemed awkward and took a second try to get it to succeed with his non-dominant hand, but four glowing orbs eventually brought light into the ten foot space, causing the men’s eyes to water. Once they slowly adjusted to the brightness, Caleb was able to get a better idea of their situation. 

“How deep do you think we are?” Fjord asked as he watched Caleb rotate his head to look at every crevice within the space.

“I can tell you that we’ve been down here for almost two hours and that north is in that direction,” he pointed over his shoulder, “but I cannot begin to guess how deep we are. Even if I did have all my spell slots left, I don’t think I have anything to dig us out of here without risking a full collapse.”

After a minute of peering up at the wedged stones piecing together their four to five foot ceiling, Caleb had to recast the cantrip in order to keep the lights active.

“Hmmm…have there been any aftershocks or tremors since the collapse?”

Fjord shook his head. “Nope, it’s been mighty quiet since that beast was crushed.”

“Well that’s good at least,” he sighed. “I think our best bet would be for me to cast the dome around this space so when the others attempt to dig or blast us out, we won’t have to worry about being crushed as long as we stay inside of it.”

“That’s a mighty good idea.” Fjord nodded. “Better than any plan I had in mind…which was…basically waiting around doing nothing…”

“If I cast it now, it will provide light so I won’t have to keep casting in order to see. However, I would like to relay this plan to Jester so the ladies know that we’re alive and have part of a plan together.” He sighed leaning forward for a moment with his head down. “But, seeing that it’s been two hours with no word, it’s safe to say we’ll have to wait until morning at least. Jester should be able to send by then.”

Fjord made a noise of agreement and watched as Caleb let the orbs fade and take his ten minute time to ritually cast the tiny hut in the darkness. When it was in place, the dome took over most of the space they were protected by and a gentle light filled the area. Both took a look over at where Caduceus remained reclining against the rough stone asleep.

“We should get some proper rest also,” Caleb said with a yawn, trying to get comfortable on the hard earth with his injured arm still held out straight in its splint. It wasn’t easy for him to hide every grimace and Fjord took notice, reminding himself that Caleb wasn’t at his best either. 

“Yea,” the half-orc agreed, settling back into his space next to Caduceus. “Everything should appear brighter in the morning.”

Caleb let out a barely stifled laugh. “We are trapped underground, have half a plan, and no way to communicate with the others on our own.”

“Right…” Fjord said sheepishly. “So, things can’t get much worse, can they?”

“Ah…” Caleb breathed out, settling himself again. “That’s a question to tempt fate.”

Fjord stared at the low ceiling until Caleb’s soft breaths joined Caduceus’. Only then did his eyes close, and he fell into a surprisingly gentle sleep…the feeling of a maternal embrace pulling his consciousness into soft dreams.

Chapter Text

Fjord wasn’t sure what woke him up at first. He couldn’t remember dreaming and didn’t wake up covered in the sweat that accompanied his usual night-terrors, but as he let his eyes adjust to the dim light of the dome, he became aware of a slight movement beside him. Then his ears caught up with the sound of wheezing breaths.

“Caduceus?”

Pushing away from the wall, he watched Caduceus, eyes closed and face pinched in pain; his fingers scrabbling at the side of his breastplate. A light sheen of sweat had coated his face and he was close to hyperventilating, his breaths sounding like they were being taken through a narrow reed.

“What’s wrong?” 

The firbolg didn’t break from his panic to acknowledge the half-orc. Fjord grabbed hold of one shaking hand, pulling it away from where his cold fingers were searching. 

“Duceus, look at me. C’mon…” 

His eyes were glassy and held Fjord’s gaze for only a moment before he shuddered slightly, curling forward as if that could help him in drawing breath.

“Can’t…breathe…” he panted. “Fjord…help…”

“Okay, okay…” The half-orc was trying his best to stay calm as he himself bent to look into the pale face. “What can I do?”

“Ah…” Caduceus huffed out sharply, but taking a deep breath in still proved difficult. “Help…take this…off…”

Fjord then realized that Caduceus had been struggling to undo the buckles of his armor. In less than thirty seconds, he had the green beetle covering unbuckled and over the firbolg’s head, his breaths easing slightly as he exhaustedly laid back against the mound of stone.

“Th-thanks…” he panted, his eyes taking on a look of relief and his usual soft smile beginning to form. “Was feeling…restricted all of a…a sudden…”

“What happened?” Fjord demanded gruffly and cut off whatever the firbolg’s immediate response was going to be. “And don’t tell me you’re just exhausted. That wasn’t normal!”

Caleb stirred, letting out a soft groan but Fjord ignored it still maintaining eye contact. 

Caduceus let out a sound that could have been a shallow sigh. 

“My side hurts…from the rock fall…”

“Let’s see it.”

Caduceus let out a sharp breath, reaching down to tug up the hem of his light shirt. He could only move his arm so high before his chest muscles stretched painfully, but Fjord pulled it the rest of the way to his chin.

“Oh…” he breathed at the sight and, seeing Caduceus’ look downward, he seemed startled by the discovery as well.

The entire left side of the firbolg’s lanky torso was a massive dark bruise that could easily be seen through his thin layer of fur. When the cleric gently probed the area, it was obviously swollen outward, especially around his naval, and even though he was the one performing his own examination, he still winced at the contact his fingertips had with the newly discovered injury.

“Huh…yea…that’s a…that’s a problem…” he breathed out shakily, trying to even his still shallow breaths. “Honestly, Mr. Fjord…I didn’t think it was anything… anything this serious.”

“What’s going on?” Caleb’s raspy voice joined the conversation, the man precariously propped up on his good arm and squinting in the dim light.

“He’s…” Fjord started, but the shock of the injury caused the strength of his voice to betray him.

“It seems I am…I am bleeding internally…” the cleric said far too calmly before letting out a thin cough. 

“Oh…right then,” Caleb whispered, the tenseness in his voice betraying more than the blank look he often carried on him. 

Both the human and the half-orc were staring at the firbolg who shifted uncomfortably under their gaze. They didn’t need Caleb’s keen mind to know that none of them had completed a full rest and there had been no word from the other half of their group. The light fabric had fallen down to hide the injury again, but Caleb had gotten a solid look. 

“Ja…that’s not just the usual black and blue...”

The guarded grasp to Caduceus’ own side and the groan that followed were enough to break his two companions out of whatever fugue state they had fallen into. It was hard not to panic at the sudden realization that both men were trapped with a true medical emergency and the only person who had the proper knowledge of how to treat it was the one who may not be coherent much longer.

“I’m going to start conjuring Frumpkin…” 

Caleb started digging through his satchel as Fjord reached out to take Caduceus by the shoulders. The firbolg’s eyes had gone distant and he was starting to sway, teeth grit in pain.

“Easy…easy…” he murmured, attempting to ground his friend. “Will lying down help?”

“Hmm?”

Fjord reached up and touched Caduceus’ drawn forehead. There was a sheen of cold sweat on his brow and, taking his wrist, found his pulse to be thready. He moved his hand down to squeeze his clammy palm, hoping any of these touches would help focus him.

“Duceus, hey, I need you to concentrate for a second.” He waited until their eyes connected before asking, “Are you going into shock? Like Caleb before?” 

He watched long lashes blink at him for a moment then, “Y-yea…I think…I think so…” He grimaced again, holding onto a shallow breath for a moment too long. 

“Let’s get you lying down then. On your back, feet up?” Fjord asked, remembering the position they had put Caleb in before.

Shakily, Caduceus nodded. “Y-yea…s’good idea…”

Fjord kept a hold of the cleric but turned to look at where Caleb was setting up the incense and bronze bowl to cast his spell. He was moving awkwardly without the use of his right arm but seemed to be managing fine.

“Caleb?” he gingerly called as Caduceus’ weight seemed to build against him. “Can you help me settle him down before you get to doing that?”

The wizard seemed to startle, clearly more comfortable being of outside use than directly facing a friend in pain. “Ja…ja, of course…”

Caduceus hissed and let out a low moan as he was pulled away from the wall, his head moved to Fjord’s lap as he tried to keep him alert. Caleb lifted his feet upon the stone footrest he himself had been positioned on not long before and pulled his cloak from his bag, tucking it around him.

“Try to keep him awake and warm,” the human directed in a hushed tone. “Scheiße! This could take up to an hour to perform, but I will try to accelerate the process. Perhaps Frumpkin can find some help above ground…” 

Fjord nodded curtly, expecting the wizard to immediately turn back to his work, but instead watched as the urgency within him froze. With the trembling fingers of his left hand, he reached forward and tugged at a thin chain around the firbolg’s neck. The red and gold pendant appeared from where it lay hidden beneath his thin shirt, and he gently laid it in full view atop his chest…his touch resting a moment longer than necessary.

“At least he has this. It should help buy us time…” he whispered, wide blue and tragically human eyes looking to Fjord. 

And it was then Fjord remembered the first time he’d laid eyes on that pendant, around a scarred neck in the Invulnerable Vagrant.

“That was…” he breathed.

“Mollymauk’s…yes.” Caleb’s eyes turned hard then. “And a lot of good it did him.”

Fjord wasn’t sure what to say at that moment. Molly was still a raw wound torn in the Nein, one no new member or victory could heal. He still struggled with guilt over his part in it all, and those that were there never did paint a full picture of how the tiefling had been cut down. But in the end, the half-orc didn’t have to think of a response because Caleb brusquely turned back to his casting on the other side of the dome. This was a ritual that he rarely cast inside, but it was also an emergency so they were all going to have to put up with the scent of incense in the poorly ventilated space for the time being.

Caduceus let out a short gasp in pain, attempting to curl his legs up. If Fjord didn’t have a hold of him, he would have rolled over onto his side. He ran his calloused verdant fingers gently through the strands of loose, long hair in what he hoped was a soothing way.

“I-I don’t remember it… it hurting this much,” the cleric groaned, not opening his eyes. “My-my bag…please.”

He weakly tried to lift his head to look around the space, but Fjord put a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Cad, let me. What do you need?”

The firbolg let out a little whine, squeezing his eyes closed again.

“W-willowbark…willowbark should help…”

“Okay, okay.” Fjord easily found the dried sticks his companions had been chewing earlier and handed one over. Shakily the cleric managed to bring it to his mouth and chewed slowly like he had to choose between chewing and breathing.

After a few minutes, Fjord, going from smoothing back his hair to comfortingly rubbing his shoulders, noticed a sort of relief flow through Caduceus. Almost like a silent, full-body sigh ran through him, and Fjord wished he could have that feeling rush through him as well.

“Stay awake, don’t fall asleep now.” Fjord tapped a furred cheek, trying to ignore the dampness left behind on his fingertips. “Duceus? You with me?”

“Yea…yea, Mr. Fjord…right here…with you…” His eyes remained closed.

“Did that help? The willowbark?”

“Hmmm…yea…pain’s just hard to handle when there’s nothing else to focus on.”

“How can I help? Please, Caduceus, I’m not useless…”

“Being here…breathing deep hurts, but not breathing hurts even more…just remind me…”

Fjord wasn’t sure what that meant, but he let out a determined breath and squeezed a trembling shoulder regardless. Caduceus peered up at him with dull eyes. “See…you’re doing just…just fine…”

The half-orc couldn’t help but chuckle at the utter ridiculousness of this man he had found himself so interested in since the keeper of the Blooming Grove took to the seas…since meeting him for the first time in the cells of the Iron Shepherds…since his actions at Molly’s grave…

Fjord never truly forgave himself for the loss of Mollymauk, the first person he wanted to learn more about in the group - asking questions about his swords and his rituals, his terrible roommate, the one who gave his life trying to rescue him. Some nights he could still hear the sounds of his final battle when he stood up to Lorenzo; he was undercover in the wagon and couldn’t see what had happened, but he heard it all…and even though Molly’s body was at rest, the memory of the colorful man followed him like a ghost.

  With blood…

A shuddering cough, coupled this time with flecks of crimson, forced its way from the injured firbolg. He clung to Fjord’s arm as he was shifted slightly to the side. He lay back fully trembling now, his throat bobbing as he tried to swallow past bloodied teeth.

“Slow breaths, Duceus…” Fjord was murmuring, a gentle hand to his chest. He was given one task and he was determined to do it to the best of his ability. “Remember. Slow breaths.”

“Hmmm…is…is Mr. Caleb, alright?” Caduceus rasped in confusion after a moment. “His arm…”

Fjord blinked and looked over at where the human sat focused on his conjuring. His movements were stilted with his arm splinted, but he seemed to be doing alright.

“Yea, Duceus, he’s fine thanks to you.”

“Good…good…”

“We’re more worried about you, you know. He’s working on contacting the others, so we can all get out of here.”

“That’s nice…real…nice…” The firbolg’s eyes closed again. 

After a moment of watching the slackening expression break with slight twitches of pain, Fjord couldn’t help but ask his next question.

“Would you…would you have still used your last spell on him if you had known?”

There was a moment of listening to the sickly wheeze, the struggling pull of a breath. A trickle of blood dribbled down the healer’s chin, staining his pale fur.

“Yes,” he whispered. “He was in pain. He needed help. The mother put me here to give it to him.”

Fjord closed his eyes in frustration and almost pulled away from the clumsy touch Caduceus gave to his arm.

“It’ll be alright, Fjord…” 

How ridiculous was this moment? Caduceus was injured, was dying, and was comforting him? The only one not injured in the battle.

“The others will be here soon.”

“Good…good…think I have…hmm…”

“What’s that?”

“Yea?”

“What do you have?”

“Oh…hmm…in the pocket of my bag…there's a 300 gold diamond for…for Jester.”

“What do you mean?”

“To use but…but it won’t work for me…”

“What?” Fjord breathed.

“Won’t get here…in time… for that. It’s less than a minute for…for Revivify…”

“But Moll- your amulet. The-the…this.” 

Fjord gently ran his fingers over the periapt of wound closure still worn on the same delicate chain as when it was paired with Mollymauk’s other necklaces. He had to swallow back the sudden wave of emotion he felt brushing it with his fingertips. The last time he had really studied it was when Molly had worn it; the showman, in a true example of his character, asked the group how it had looked as soon as he put it on in Pumat Sol’s shop half a lifetime ago…and in the end it wasn’t enough to save him…

Caduceus’ cold fingers shakily reached up to rest on Fjord’s. It was getting easier and easier for him to let his mind wander from the helpless moment he was trapped in. 

“This can only do so much,” the cleric rasped resolutely, his breathing turning ragged again. “It can close wounds, yes…but it can’t undo blood loss. There’s only so much…damage…magic…can fix…”

Is this what it was like for Beau, for Caleb, for Nott, watching Molly die? He couldn’t even bring himself to look at the hooded eyes, at the pink irises that were just the faded ghosts of a pair of red eyes he once knew…

If this were it, he didn’t think he could describe it to anyone even if he wanted to. Even if it meant that he would be free from the helpless feeling he knew he would be burdened to carry…

He was beginning to understand the others’ inability to talk about Mollymauk’s final moments…

“I’m not afraid. You know…you know that…right?”

“Caduceus…” He could only whisper.

“There are so many…so many worse ways. I know the Wildmother is always with me but…but I was alone with just her for so…so long. It’s nice…nice to not be alone for this.”

“Don’t- don’t talk like that…” 

Fjord - the captain, the fighter - wanted his voice to be strong, to be a true command to the firbolg; however, the half-orc’s voice trembled without his permission, and it was taking his whole self not to sob. He was a child again, an orphan to the streets of Port Dumali; he was lost at sea, his first sense of belonging ripped from him; he was unable to move, being tossed into a cart…being pulled from his new purpose…his new found family…

Caduceus gently clutched the half-orc’s hand, both of them holding the periapt in a shared grasp and bringing him back to the moment he was currently supporting in his lap.

“Oh, Mr. Fjord…”

But he couldn’t speak, the painful lump in his throat threatening to escape in a torrent if he even dared.

“You should know by now… I only like talking in truths…”

Chapter Text

How Fjord managed to sit in the stillness without going mad, he might never know, but that’s all he could manage.

Caleb’s form was so intently focused it trembled beside him, trying his hardest to conjure faster than his magic had ever been called upon. Beads of sweat gathered over time as his hands kept up their repetitive motions; his breath barely taken as he quietly chanted the incantation over and over.

The half-orc was almost jealous of the wizard. At least he had a focus. He had a job, a set goal that wasn’t simply holding onto a dying friend, a possible mentor even as he drew further and further away from Uk’otoa. Caduceus had officially fallen unconscious maybe ten minutes into Caleb’s casting with no amount of prodding or calling waking him. He let out a few moans, wheezing openly even in sleep, his brow coated in a cold sweat. Fjord had pulled the larger form even more into his lap as he attempted to comfort or secure the firbolg even in his unawareness. Twice Caduceus had shuddered so hard that he had to adjust his grip. The second fit left the cleric almost breathless, his gasps shortening until there was no furtive pull of air.

Fjord’s mouth went dry as he shook his shoulders, squeezed his hand that he refused to let drop.

“Caduceus!” 

But there was no response. He met Caleb’s eyes briefly in his panic, the human’s widening before he ducked his head back down and somehow seemed to pull even more on his magic.

“Please, please, Wildmother…you can’t…” he began to mutter, to pray? “You can’t leave him now. He can’t…”

He didn’t know what he was saying, but the firbolg’s jaw was slack and lifeless. The half-orc clenched his eyes shut and thought of Caduceus’ magic, his gifts from the Wildmother. “Please, mother.”

Then a warm shudder ran through the palm he was clutching, and he opened his eyes to see the fading glint of red light coming from Molly’s amulet. Caduceus let out a shallow cough and began to draw in ragged breaths again.

“Thank you,” he whispered to Melora, to his past friend. “Please…please stay with him.”

It wasn’t much, but it would have to be enough.

In the end, Caleb was able to pull off casting the spell in just under an hour. It took almost no time to have Frumpkin find the others who weren’t too far off. They had been huddled up trying to figure out the best course of action to find the missing half of their party - a conversation that sounded very similar. The worm must have burrowed pretty deep under the surface because there was no sign of the tunnels from above ground.

Caleb managed to signal his intent to the others by having Frumpkin lead them above the spot they were trapped and mime where they should dig. The familiar’s insistence, yowling and circling over and over, was enough to get them to hurry. They were all worried about the state of their companions but trusted that this was the best course of action, believing that the wizard had done something to prevent a total collapse.

They were out of spells but using their hands and shovels, made enough of a dent for Caleb to sense their presence above them within half an hour and used his cat’s paw spell to scoop enough of the earth that had begun to fall on the dome up and out of the hole the other half of their party had dug. They were maybe 15-20 feet down in what once was the worm’s tunnel and the one minute he had for his final spell of the day was not one he was going to risk wasting by casting it too soon.

Four heads peaked over the side, backlit with setting orange light. 

“You boys alright down there?” Beau’s low voice called out just as Nott’s shrieked, “Caleb, are you okay!?”

“Jester!” His strained Zemnian accent wavered in panic as he shaded his eyes from the early evening light. He’d moved to sit next to Fjord, keeping a hand on his shoulder as he took Frumpkin’s eyes, and dropped the dome; small pieces of dirt fell around them as it dissipated. “Here, quickly!” 

“What? What’s the matter?” She called from above but not hesitating to lower herself down into the roughly six foot wide hole they’d dug, using the rough edges of the pit to slow her descent. Her voice was almost too loud after spending nearly five hours underground. 

“It’s Caduceus, he took damage in the collapse and he’s…” Fjord grit out, trying to regain the composure he lost after the amulet flashed sometime before the digging started. And while the periapt did put some life back into the firbolg, the feeling of holding an absolutely lifeless form- no breaths or beats- would stay with him for an age Fjord was sure. It had been far too long since he’d heard a word from the firbolg who had remained unconscious for the past few hours. Everything about the child of the Wildmother was too still…too cold…

“Oh my! Nonono…” Jester gasped and immediately threw out her hands, reciting the incantation for Spare the Dying as soon as her fingers touched the firbolg’s chest. There was a slight glow of light from her fingers, but she refused to sit back once it faded. Instead she went into field medic mode; many of those skills she used then she had picked up from Caduceus since she never formally was trained in the healing arts. Without any sense of personal boundaries, she put an ear to his chest and then to his mouth, she ran her fingers along his skull and down every rib, she took a close look at the fingertips that were still held in Fjord’s grasp…

“I’m out of healing spells, but he should be stabilized…” Jester didn’t look sure of herself, maybe she had been too late. The tiefling turned to look up at the concerned faces above. “Does anyone have a healing potion left?”

“I have one!” Nott waved a small vial, the red liquid standing out starkly against her green grip.

“What’s going on?” Beau shouted back.

“Caduceus is really hurt! Can you make it down here?” There seemed to be just enough room for one more person down in the now partially collapsed hole. “Don’t risk tossing it!”

Fjord closed his eyes, the stress of the day taking its toll and then the monk was in front of him and Jester was tipping the red liquid past Caduceus’ already red-stained lips, taking a moment to rub his throat coaxing him to swallow.

There was a beat of silence... pure stillness, everyone holding their breath until…

Caduceus gave a choked cough and fluttered his eyes open, head still resting in Fjord’s lap. Looking up he saw four worried faces, two more further above peering down anxiously.

“Hey, everybody…” he rasped dreamily, his characteristically blissful grin slowly fading at the sight of the various tense and worried expressions spread throughout the group. “Is everyone alright?”

Beau snorted and sent a gentle punch, by monk standards, to his shoulder. It was enough for the second dome that had formed around the group, a shell filled with dread that they had been too late to save another friend, to break open - Jester giggled and threw her arms around the firbolg, pulling him upright into a warm hug; Caleb fell backward with a sigh of relief ignoring the twinge the shot up his arm; and Fjord rested his forehead against Caduceus’ back, giving his still cold fingers another squeeze as he tried to get his panic under control by mimicking the deep breaths that his friend was now taking. 

“Yea, Duceus,” he breathed. “Everyone’s alright.”

Caduceus squeezed back.

Chapter Text

The Mighty Nein decided to spend the rest of the night in the hole since Caduceus was still too injured to climb or be safely lifted out until he received a proper once over with healing spells. So, again Caleb cast the dome and the group did their best to make a comfortable home out of the earthen pit. The stress of the day was enough for the group to sleep solidly, except for Fjord who couldn’t find a way to successfully still his mind. He spent most of the night lying on his side listening to the deep snores of Caduceus (and Beauregard) from his spot beside Caleb and Nott.

His last conversation with the firbolg left him almost uneasy, and he wasn’t sure what to do with those feelings. He really was fascinated by so many members of their group, and he was fairly certain he had figured out a good number of his companions. Caduceus was still such a mystery to him in so many ways.

“You look tired,” Caduceus’ voice spoke up over the sound of the wagon wheels turning and Jester and Nott’s conversation from the front of the cart.

“Hmm?” The half-orc looked up, startled, not realizing his focus had begun to drift.

“Are you doing okay, Mr. Fjord? You haven’t had much to say this morning.”

Caduceus looked concerned in his own way, leaning forward slightly and peering at him from under wise brows. They were sitting across from each other in the bed of the cart. He had foregone his green beetle armor for the day as his side was still tender even after Jester had put a few additional healing spells into him before they set out. His right hand absentmindedly rested near where the two clerics had decided his spleen must’ve burst causing most of the bleeding he’d suffered from. The rest of the damage could be attributed to a nicked lung by one of a handful of his broken ribs.

“Yea, yea, I’m fine Duceus. Just glad to be out of that hole.” Fjord let out a loud sigh.

“I have to agree with you there. For a while, I was beginning to feel like I was back home at the grove, except I was one of the buried.” He let out a soft smile that Fjord couldn’t bring himself to return. “That’s just a little gravedigger humor, Mr. Fjord,” he felt the need to clarify.

“Yea, I got that,” he said softly, head tilting back to face the sky for a moment.

“You’re…upset with me?” the firbolg questioned slowly, his brows furrowing.

“No.” Fjord sighed again and leaned forward. “No, I’m not upset with you. I’m just…confused? Concerned? Awh, I don’t know. Just forget it.”

Caduceus’ eyes softened seeing the half-orc sharply avert his gaze and look as if he were interested in jumping from the moving cart all of a sudden.

“Will forgetting it make you feel better?”

Fjord looked back at him in surprise, opening his mouth momentarily but not saying anything.

“My parents were big believers in having us kids talk about our problems and our confusions. And while it doesn’t always bring clarity, it may bring a deeper understanding as to why it is something important to dwell upon.”

Fjord nodded, not quite sure he understood the firbolg’s actual meaning, but holding onto one word he gave.

“You know that you’re important, right, Duceus?”

He didn’t mean for that to be the question he asked, and he was sure his face was near identical to the startled look on his companion’s face.

“I’m- I’m not quite sure I understand your meaning. We all play our part in this group, and I do like to think I support…”

“No, no,” Fjord sputtered quietly. “I’m not talking about your usefulness or your talents, Duceus. Yes, you bless us before fights and heal us after. And you damn near made me consider becoming a vegan with your cooking skills, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Even if you couldn’t do half of the things the Wildmother has blessed you with, you know you’re important, your life, your self, is important…you know that right?”

Caduceus looked almost taken aback and opened his mouth only to close it with a contemplative ‘hmmm.’

“Because I know what it’s like to feel like nothing and that maybe it would be better off to just become nothing if it meant helping others…become something.” Flashes of still images flew through his mind in the moment of quiet: being alone at the orphanage, joining a crew, finding a man he idolized and wanted to become…

“Where is this coming from, Mr. Fjord?” Caduceus asked quietly, and he appeared so stripped at that moment. Confusion holding back the wisdom and tender confidence he often exuded.

Fjord looked down at where his knuckles were flexing around each hand.

“It’s just…something you said yesterday.”

“What did I say? I have to admit, I wasn’t quite…hmm focused for much of the time we spent underground.”

“Something about it being your job to take care of people…”

“Oh…” the cleric breathed, gaining some understanding.

“And I don’t want you to think you can just discount yourself.”

“Mr. Fjord-”

“You could have died, Caduceus,” Fjord hissed and looked up, fully aware that Nott and Jester were nearby, but they hadn’t stopped their chatter. “You were dying and I couldn’t do anything about it. I was holding you and you were dying. And please don’t say anything about every death being necessary and having its own time because that clearly wasn’t yours.”

The firbolg allowed there to be a silent pause for a few moments as Fjord became concerned again with the dirt under his nails.

“You’re right, it wasn’t,” he said slowly as if taking the time to warm the words before he spoke them. “And it was because of you and Mr. Caleb that I got the help I needed in time.”

Fjord scoffed.

“I mean it, Fjord. I’ll admit I wasn’t fully aware of everything happening in the moment, but that in itself tells me just how much I relied on you to keep me safe. I believe the Wildmother looks over all of us, and you were looking over me then too.”

Fjord looked up with open eyes, catching a wistful expression in his companion’s.

“I was alone for a long time, long enough for me to completely lose track of the seasons. I only had myself to care for and… over the years alone, I-I know I stopped doing a good job at that.”

The half-orc was surprised at the open admission but thought back to meeting the firbolg for the first time and thinking about how gaunt the seven foot man appeared.

“So...maybe I'll need a reminder every once in a while, but I’m certain after how you handled yesterday’s events that I can trust you to be that for me?”

Fjord blinked. “Of course, Duceus. You don’t even have to ask that.”

The contented, lax smile returned to share in the expression his equally warm eyes gave to the half-orc.

“That I am quite sure of, Mr. Fjord.”

Both settled back against the gentle rocking of the cart and a shared understanding that had been voiced aloud.