Tusk Love by Ategar Lightshroud: A Critical Role Fanfiction

Chapter 2

An hour later, the Bethrum's arrived in Druvenlode with Oskar escorting them the entire way. That was the first time Guinevere insisted on sitting at the front of the cart in years. Her excitement and wonder at travel quickly fizzled away when she was a little girl, so she had become content with daydreaming in the back. However, she wanted a front row seat to see her savior.

At first glance, anyone would've assumed that Oskar was a nomadic barbarian; few who were a part of civilized society walked around in little else than heavy-duty trousers and hiking boots. The scars embedded in his arms, chest, and back enhanced the savage persona, and the sweat dripping off his hair and down his back followed the curves of his toned body, making them shimmer in the sun. Yet as the cart got closure to town, every person they passed waved and greeted Oskar with warm smiles. The little children would run up to him and hug him, begging him to pick them up and play with them. Every smile was returned with a tusky grin and a promise to play when his job was over.

Grerkor caught Guinevere staring several times, and every time he did, she would snap her eyes away with a face as red as Bloodroot. Every look made the already irate Grerkor even more irritated. No words were passed between any of the trio, and the awkward, frustrated air was heavy around the entire cart.

Finally, they made it inside the city. While nowhere near the splendor of Zedash, Druvenlode was a grand sight after seeing northern wastelands for days. The cobblestone streets were already a blessing on Guinevere's round posterior, and the simple but beautiful architecture was a splendor to behold. The main street of the city housed a handful of taverns and inns as well as stores and emporiums of all goods: art; decor; meat; harvests. There were musicians playing on almost every corner, and their tunes beguiled Guinevere, though her father sneered at them. He would keep his eyes forward, refusing to make eye contact with anyone on the street, thinking that would deter the entertainers and urchins from groveling. Guinevere would make eye contact, silently apologizing for her inability to help them; as a child, she would give away any money she earned herself until her father caught her one day and struck her for once for every good deed she admitted to committing on that day. Ever since, she had been to afraid to do as her heart always urged. When she saw Oskar give out a gold coin to every entertainer and urchin they passed, her guilt deepened, even as her heart skipped a beat.

Finally, the cart arrived at a building bearing the name The Golden Shawl. While not the biggest shop in Druvenlode, this was no meager establishment. The entirety of the first floor was dedicated to displaying clothes for working women: simple blouses; working skirts; flexible trousers, aprons of various lengths. Everything came in every shape and size imaginable. There were colors to choose from, though they were muddy and unsaturated colors. The back of the store held a work room and an office where Grerkor and Guinevere found the owner while Oskar took the horse and cart to the town stables.

Ekisha was a middle-aged half orc woman with kind laugh lines set around her tusks. Her dark hair had gone grey with wisdom, and Oskar had clearly gotten his kind blue eyes from her. The thing that took Guinevere aback was that Ekisha hands seemed to levitate and control several needles and threads all at once without even touching them. What a skilled magic user was doing owning a simple clothing shop, Guinevere couldn't guess.

With a warm, tusky smile, Ekisha released her mystical hold on the thread and needles. She approached Grerkor with the offer of a handshake. "My darling Grerkor. How good it is to finally meet you in person."

"Indeed." Ekisha either didn't notice Grerkor's physical discomfort and weak handshake, or she chose to ignore them.

She turned her attention to Guinevere with the same hand. "And this must be your charming daughter. She's even prettier than you said."

Returning that half-orc's smile, Guinevere gave her a stronger, more enthusiastic handshake. "A pleasure to meet you, Madam Ekisha."

"Oh, please. Just Ekisha. No need to be so formal, my dear." Before Guinevere could argue, Ekisha's eyes found the rips in the girl's dress. The smile fell to worry as she finger the rips. "What in the name of Dwendle happened?"

Grerkor answered flatly, "Trouble."

"We ran into some bandits on the road," Guinevere explained. "If your son hadn't arrived when he did... I'm not sure what our fates would be." Guinevere didn't even want to think about the potential outcomes.

"Well, that simple won't do." With a flick of her wrist, a tap measure floated into Ekisha's hand. "Lift your arms please." With awkward hesitation, Guinevere did as she was instructed. Ekisha took several moments to measure Guinevere's round bust, wide hips, and curved waist, as well as her general height. "I have the perfect thing." Ekisha started rummaging through the dresses on the racks in her work room. She pulled out an ankle-length dress made of olive green fabric. The straps were bout an inch and a half wide and the dress could be tightened from both the front and the back. "It's not a luxurious garment, but it is functional and quite comfortable. You can wash up and change upstairs. First door on your left."

Grerkor's flat voice questioned, "How much?"

"Oh, no! No charge! Not for the daughter of such a good friend."

"Oh, I couldn't, Ekisha. This is such fine work that would earn you good coin. I can't rob you of that."

"Nonsense. I insist." Ekisha pushed the garment into Guinevere's arms. "You go get changed, and then we'll feast at The Waiting Dove when my son returns. We can discuss business in the meantime, Grerkor."

Guinevere looked to her father, still unsure. After looking at the garment in her arms, he gave her a stiff nod. Guinevere left the work room and stepped silently up the stairs.

The upstairs held two rooms. Guinevere had to assume one was Ekisha's room while the other was Oskar's. Opening the door to the left, she peaked in. The room was so simple and unadorned that she couldn't tell at a glance which of the two half-orcs used the room. Laying her new dress on the bed, Guinevere pull off her ripped garment. She was secretly relieved that it had been damaged in the attack; her father was such a cheap man that he had refused to buy her a new dress until this one was beyond repair. The red fabric had raveled and was cover in dirt and sweat from the open road. Getting the heavy dress off her body already made her feel like a new woman.

That feeling increased as she soaked in the water basin. Ekisha had filled it with hot water in anticipation for the Bethrum's arrival. As the dirt, grit and sweat rolled off her body, Guinevere continued to feel reborn. She could've spent that whole night there if she were the master of her own time. Nevertheless, the fatherly voice in her mind urged her out of the warm water and back into the cold air.

Guinevere had just slipped back into her simple cotton bloomers and chemise when the door was pushed open. Looking over her shoulder, Guinevere found Oskar standing in the doorway, dripping with sweat. Time stood still as these two creatures stared at one another. It wasn't until a clashing crimson blush crawled across Oskar's face when Guinevere realized the compromising position they were in. With a tiny squeal, she covered her body with her new dress as much as she could. Oskar's gruff voice mumbled an apology before he quickly pulled the door shut.