In My Dreams

Wizard's smirk

Rok stabbed into the dirt with his hand shovel. He dug out a hole and then threw down the shovel. He cupped his hands into the dirt and pulled out dirty potatoes. He dusted them off and heard them plunk as he threw them into the wooden bucket beside him. It was rare to let his anger get the best of him. He was quite irritated that a simple girl could make him feel so frustrated. He shook his head and ripped out carrots from the ground. He sat on his legs by his vegetable garden. 

"Well, well, well, something has got you in a bind." Rok looked up at the smooth voice. Aronin smirked as he leant against the fence gate. He was as tan as an oak tree with silver eyes and white blonde cropped hair. He stood in his usual thick velvet wizard's cloak, as deeply blue and rich as the night sky, with purple trim. It was a wizard's greatest honor to wear their cloak, but Aronin preferred his tunic and leather pants—more pirate than wizard. He wore a scabbard at his side, hidden under his cloak. Another leather band was strewn across his chest, where it held his favorite daggers. In the crook of his right elbow, he carried his staff—a thick, swirling stick that spun up until it curled around a long bright blue crystal. 

Rok snarled back in orcish. Someone. 

Aronin looked at him with a flicker of pity. He passed the gate and stood in front of Rok. Rok didn't look up. He glared at the ground as Aronin's boots shifted in front of him. Aronin, then, slammed his staff hard into the dirt. A spark of magic exploded and something loosened in Rok's throat. He clutched at it. The pain quickly receded. 

"That should do for now. We will find a way to make it permanent, I promise you," Aronin made an elegant bow, like a performer. "Now, what was that you said?"

Rok slowly lowered his hand from his throat. He opened his mouth to speak. "Someone." His voice didn't sound guttural anymore. It sounded like what it had used to be...before he had turned. He hated how it made him feel, reminding him of who he no longer was. But it was the smallest solace to be understood again. "I met a girl in the woods," he spoke softly.

"A girl, you say! Now, that is something! You can't possibly mean this girl survived the forest!" Aronin put down his staff and sat on the ground, folding his legs. 

Rok bared his teeth, knowing where this was going. "I didn't do anything. She came out of nowhere. She's a witch with no memory. I think she may be lost."

"How interesting," Aronin said. "But that can't be what's angering you so. Quite a feat to anger the gentle giant!"

Rok scowled and turned back to the carrots. He wrenched them out and threw them into the bucket. Slowly, deliberately, he told him what had happened. Aronin leaned in with rapture. When Rok finished, Aronin clapped his hands and exclaimed, "She must be a marvel! I must see her! It has been quite a long time since we have seen a witch in our midst!"

Rok shook his head furiously. "No. She is nothing but trouble. Let her be. She is sleeping, anyway. Do you have word of the enchantress?"

Aronin scratched the back of his head and laughed nervously. "Well, she hasn't exactly been easy to track. She's a hundred years more experienced than I am and much more versed in the dark arts. Wherever she is, I can't touch, let alone see. But we'll find her, Rok. I promise. We'll hunt her down for as long as we can and get her to break your curse."

Rok sighed. "She will never break the curse. I do not think it is in her power." He looked back down at his garden and balled his fists. He quoted, "Remain as a beast for eternity, until true love reveals the man inside thee." 

Aronin frowned and nodded solemnly. "You never know, Rok. You may find that true love."

Rok growled and rolled his eyes. "Don't humor an orc. We aren't familiar with humor." Aronin chuckled and patted his friend's large muscled arm. He rose from the ground and dusted off his clothes.