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Chapter 15 - Hilfa

18th Day of Manul

118 I.E.

"Wake up!" Hilfa shouted from nearby. Bart felt something smack his muzzle and his unsupported head rolled to the side from the force of the blow. He opened his eyes, confused as to what was going on. When he tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes with his paws, he found he couldn't move his right arm.

"Wha...?" he mumbled incoherently. He tried to remember what he'd been doing before he fell asleep. Memories of the brawl with the Hands of Laren began to worm their way out of the depths of his mind. He remembered enjoying a good ale, then he had felt wetness and a sharp pain and then... he couldn't remember anything else. It was a jumbled mess of images and sensations that his mind couldn't put together in any coherent order, if one even existed.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

Bart looked up and saw Hilfa standing beside his bed in the infirmary. Their commanding officer was standing at ease a short distance away, watching their interaction. The dwarf was leaving the job of interrogating him to Hilfa.

"I asked you a question, Bartholomew!"

The ursar's ears flattened against his head. He didn't know what to say. He could barely remember what happened anyways. Even if he knew exactly everything that transpired the night before, he was skeptical anything he could say would diffuse the situation.

"Why were you drinking while on duty?" she asked sternly, expecting that he give an answer now or be punished.

"Would anything I say mean anything? I mean... would it ever not sound like an excuse?" Bart stammered. She was making him nervous. She sounded so much like Remi did whenever he had done something wrong. Bart was certain that Hilfa was going to strike him at any moment, and the thought scared him. When she would move closer to him, he leaned away, unaware that his body was even making these subtle movements.

"Answer her, Private," their CO said, his gruff voice carrying the weight of authority with it. "She bailed you out of a lengthy prison sentence for abandoning your duties, so you owe it to her for sticking her neck out on your behalf. Gods only know why she did it. Now, answer her, or I'll double the original sentence. And trust me, it won't be pretty."

Bart drooped his head. He didn't want to go back to prison. That was the last place he wanted to be. He saw the bandages wrapped about his pudgy body, and saw the blood stains on the white cloth. He still felt light-headed and dizzy from the loss of blood, and he began to realize just how much damage the Hands had inflicted on him during their ambush. How long ago was that anyways, he wondered. It couldn't have been out for more than a day or two.

His paws found their way to his chest, and they began to roam along his exposed pink flesh where he'd been struck by the fireball. It had been healed rather well by the squad medic, but there was nothing that could be done about the singed and missing fur. He only hoped that over time it would grow back.

Where's my clothes? he thought as he looked around the sides of the bed. He wanted to cover himself up. The furless patch was disgusting and he didn't want other people to see it.

"Bart!" Hilfa demanded, growing impatient.

The ursar jumped with a start and cowered from her. He'd really done it this time. "I... I don't know," he mumbled. Whatever magic they had used to patch him up left him feeling more out of the loop with reality than any narcotic ever had. He didn't like it.

"Do you really not know, or is it more like you 'don't know'?" Hilfa asked, making quotation signs in the air with her fingers.

"I don't know!" Bart yelled back, sounding desperate rather than angry. "Ever since my trip to Olaraa and meeting that other ursar, I've just been so preoccupied with him and... I don't know. I want to get away from everything."

Their CO scoffed. "If death is what you want, we can grant it. It wouldn't even take long to get it approved for a convict like you."

"No it's not like that! I don't want to die! I just don't want to feel like this anymore." Bart snarled in frustration. He couldn't grasp the right words to explain how he felt. "It's hard to explain."

Hilfa's features softened, though it was an almost imperceptible change. "So you're drinking to cope. Just like after what Stoutmantle did to you." She shook her head and sighed. "I can't imagine what this ursar must've done to be worse than that bastard."

Bart didn't want to fill her in on it. It wasn't only what Arion had done, but what his actions had made him feel. He was outmatched by him and his psionic abilities made him feel exposed and naked, like his soul was merely some painting in a gallery to be gawked at and studied and questioned. He gripped at the bed sheets. But had what Arion done to him truly been as bad as Stoutmantle? Certainly he'd been beaten, but other than a light blow to the head, he came away unscathed. He couldn't understand why the monk bothered him so much.

"I guess," he said finally, though he came off sounding unsure of himself as his voice wavered.

Hilfa dug out a large steel flask from her tunic pocket. It was much too large for her to be holding, and it barely fit in her hands. That's when Bart realized it was his. "I'm holding on to this. That'll be part of your punishment. If I ever catch you with booze again, I'm locking you up myself. Do I make myself clear!?"

"Y-yes," Bart whimpered.

It was so unlike him to be so easily cowed, but he knew it wasn't because circumstances were all that new or unique. He was used to being yelled at after all. It had to be because it was Hilfa. Something about her made him feel uneasy, as if his stomach were attempting back flips in his belly. Hilfa sighed and gave him a hug. Bart felt hot and he wanted her closer, and to hold him for a while longer. It dawned on him that he was falling in love with the dwarfwoman, as she was the only person who'd ever shown him any kindness before.

When she pulled away, he whimpered again. He didn't want her to let go. Neither her nor his CO seemed to notice the sound he made. Bart reached out suddenly and grabbed her wrist. The act was so swift that it startled her.

"I'm sorry, HilFA: " he proclaimed. "I didn't mean to. I just wanted to forget about him."

Hilfa looked back at their CO, and the dwarf nodded his head before he took his leave. Their conversation was something that he didn't want any part of.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to remember Arion. He's always on the edge of my thoughts. He's just, there! All the time!" Bart met her eyes. "They offered me freedom. I could leave the military any time I wanted."

"Why didn't you accept their offer?" Hilfa asked, confused. "Wasn't that what you wanted?"

"I don't want to be near him. Or the other ursar. I'm not one of them!"

Hilfa looked at him, sadness playing out on her face. "But you aren't a dwarf, either. You should be with your own people."

"No, I'm not one of them!" Bart protested stubbornly. Tears were in his eyes. "They're no good! They were always no good! That's what I was always told. I came from no good parents, so the rest of them can't be any better!"

Hilfa was stunned into silence by his reaction, and she could only listen as Bart continued to ramble.

"J-just... can you..." Bart couldn't form the words. He was afraid to ask her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her close. Though she was surprised initially, she quickly relented and returned the gesture as she hugged him back.

Hilfa eased him back down onto the bed and pulled the covers up over his body. "Sleep, alright? You're just delirious from the other day." She gave one last long look at him, then quietly stalked out of the room as exhaustion gripped Bart's body.

A few days later, Bart found Hilfa outside of Albrand, standing atop a small hill as she watched the latest merchant convoy leave the village. She stared through a gnomish spyglass as the tiny wagon crawled along into the distance. The troops stationed in the village couldn't afford to send anyone to escort merchant wagons, so the best they could do was watch from afar and intervene when and if the Hands of Laren ever showed up. After the brawl last week, they were sure that the Hands that were hiding out in Albrand were mopped up.

Bart didn't think she heard him approaching, but as he neared where she stood, she collapsed the device and stuffed it into one of her pockets before turning around to face him.

Bart gave a sheepish grin when she glared at him. "M-morning, Hilfa." He was nervous, thanks in part to her reaction the other day in the infirmary, and in part because of what he wanted to say to her. They were good friends when they were children, and for some reason, that made what he wanted to say a lot more terrifying. The last few days, all he could think of was Hilfa. Bart knew that if he didn't confess everything to her, it would slowly drive him insane.

"What did you want?" she asked impatiently. "You're not getting your flask back."

"So I guess you're still mad at me, huh?" Bart asked, scratching an itch on the side of his muzzle.

"Now that you're no longer bed ridden, it's a lot harder to feel pity for you. So yes, I'm upset with you."

"I never asked for pity."

Hilfa shrugged. "Well, you got it anyways. What did you want? I've got work to do, and if I'm not mistaken, so do you."

"Um... well, I, uh..." Bart fidgeted on the spot. He didn't know what to say. What did one say to a person like Hilfa, who was always so kind, calm, and confident? He had known her for so long, yet only recently had he realized he felt something more than friendship for her.

There's no one else around, Bart thought. He did one more look around to double check that the coast was clear. When he was sure it was okay, he stepped forward and leaned down, planting a firm kiss on her lips. He thought she tasted nice, like sweet berries. Was that what she'd had for breakfast?

Hilfa made a grunt of protest and shoved him away before he could do anything else. "What in the Pantheon's name are you going? What's gotten into you lately!?" she shouted. He moved towards her again and she cuffed him in the muzzle with a solid right hook. The crack of cartilage was quickly followed by the flow of blood coming out of his nose. "You go to Olaraa and meet some other ursar, and when you come back you've become twice the alcoholic you were before and now you're doing this! I knew you had become a pervert since you were a cub but this is just -"

"Hilfa wait, I can explain."

"Don't. I don't want to hear it. You've shared enough of your lewd thoughts with me over the last few months. I really do not think anything you could say would excuse what you just did. So don't say another word or I'll have half a mind to punch you again!" She shook her hand out and muttered a complaint about the solid nature of his jaw. "What the hell is happening to you?"

"Nothing's happening to me! I just realized that I lo-"

"Finish that word and I swear to Lumine that I will kick you in the crotch," Hilfa seethed at him.

Bart backed off and gave Hilfa some space. Her threat gave him pause, and he reflected on what he'd just done. He'd essentially assaulted the only person who treated him with any level of respect and dignity.

What is wrong with me? he asked, echoing her own question from a moment ago. He was never like this growing up. As a cub, Bart was more withdrawn and he kept away from people. As soon as he started being around them more often, everything started to go wrong.

"Hilfa, I-I'm so sorry."

"Stop. I don't want to hear anymore of your half-baked excuses. Gods only know how many are up there in that thick skull of yours.

Bart tried to get a word in but she held her hand up and bade him to remain quiet.

"I've given it a lot of thought since you were hurt last week. You're not the cub I knew growing up, and I'm not willing to watch you slowly self-destruct. I'm not your keeper." She paused to let the words set in. "Things stopped being fun when I realized you needed someone to take care of you rather than be your friend."

Bart felt like she'd just run his heart through with a spear. He knew what she was building up to, but he had hoped he could prevent that from happening. He was just too forward! That's it! If he just explained himself, she would understand.

"Hilfa, I love you!"

She struck without any warning. She wasn't tall enough to kick him, but her punch hurt just as well. She hit squarely in his nether regions, instantly bringing tears to his eyes. Bart collapsed unceremoniously and curled into a ball. He felt like vomiting as he whined on the ground between ragged breaths.

"I warned you," she said. "I'm returning to Olaraa. I'm not staying here anymore. When the next wagon comes through, I'm gone."

Bart coughed and gasped, trying to keep it together. He managed to get a few words out between breaths. "Why did you look for me then? You avoided the question back then. Why?"

Hilfa was silent for a moment. "I believed that at one point, maybe it would've been possible for us to be something more than friends. We always fit together so well, since we were both outcasts. And I always thought you were kind of cute with the little scruff you had on your chin. But after knowing what I know now about you..." She let her statement hang. "I did like you once, and we had lots of good laughs, but not anymore. The jokes stopped, and all I've been doing is making sure you don't poison yourself with booze."

"Hilfa..." Bart wheezed as he reached out for her, but she slapped his hand away.

"Goodbye, Bartholomew. Maybe with me gone you can go back to thinking about that ursar." Her words were cold and unfeeling, and they hurt to hear. "It feels like to me the only one unable to realize that you have affection for him is you. Maybe when you realize that you won't be chasing every piece of ass you see."

The ursar cried out for her, but she kept walking. The bitter taste of rejection filled his soul, and he decided to remain on the ground until darkness overtook him. He wanted to sleep and escape, but as soon as his dreams came to him only one thought remained, and it was of Arion.