“Of course,” Hermey said, surprise catching his voice. “What sort of idea?”

“Well, you’d said that you had magic that you used in a you workshop, correct?” Gale started, excitement in his eyes as though he’d made a huge breakthrough. Hermey nodded. “Excellent. Is the magic specific to the workshop, or do you have the ability to use it anywhere?”

“I…I’m not sure,” Hermey answered, looking at the others' faces as though he could determine where this was going through their expressions. “I haven’t had a chance to try it since I left. There’s not a lot of toys out here, nor a lot of reason to work on them.”

“I guess that depends on your definition of toy,” Gale said, scratching the scruff of his beard as though he was still thinking through his questions. “Would you be willing to give it a try?”

Hermey raised one eyebrow - what an odd question to be asking him when they were about to head into a potential battle zone. “Sure, if you can find a toy, I’d be happy to see if my magic still works.”

“You can try on Clive!” Karlach said excitedly. She pulled open the flap that served as the front door of her tent and pulled out what looked like an old teddy bear. “His ear got a little torn back in Avernus, and I tried to fix it as best as I could, but he could use an actual mending.”

She tossed the bear to Hermey and he caught it, immediately regretting it as the heat from Karlach’s short touch warmed his hands to an almost unbearable degree. Almost unbearable, but still better than half the stuff he’d seen around here, he reminded himself as he took in the details of the bear. It was roughly sewn, as though it’d been made in a hurry, but the fabric was a thick leather, capable of withstanding Karlach’s heat. Thick, metal buttons had been sewn on for eyes, as well as a plastic nose that had been partially melted from the heat. Hermey was surprised it hadn’t melted off, but as he ran his thumb over the rough edges, he felt a light hum of energy. Someone else had already used magic on this toy, probably to keep it from going up in flames.

He turned his attention to the bear’s ears. One was still fully attached, flush with the rest of the bear, but the other was definitely the one that’d been ripped. A little torn was an understatement - the ear looked like it was about ready to fall off. The bottom part of the ear that was still attached to the body was stitched haphazardly with a thick brown cord. It was enough to keep the stuffing in, for sure, but it was far from beautiful stitching, and it would do nothing to keep the ear in place were it to get caught on something else. While it wasn’t the exact sort of thing he was usually doing with his toy magic, he thought, it wasn’t too far out of his wheelhouse.

From deep in his stomach, he pulled at the space he’d always felt his magic housed. He hadn’t felt it present here, but he also hadn’t felt it when he was at the Island of Misfit Toys, either, or really anywhere outside of the workshop. But he’d felt it when he’d been outside of the workshop before, just once when he’d left to examine the teeth of one particularly grumpy reindeer (it turns out that it wasn’t a tooth thing, but Hermey had still felt elated that they’d called on him in that moment). Maybe it was less about his magic not being accessible and more about him not wanting to access it. He’d never been called to work with toys, after all, so why would he bother with his magic when he was out of the workshop?

Sure enough, as soon as he searched, he felt the resistance of a small string of light within himself. He pulled on that string, running his open hand over the broken bear. Slowly, so slowly, his palm started to glow, until a bright light shone from his hand and he could feel the fabric mending as though it were his own skin. He pulled his hand away, and the bear’s ear was now attached to the rest of the bear with perfect, heatproof stitching. The nose, too, was closer to its original shape, although the texture was still a bit rough. For his first time trying to rework an object that was already infused with magic, Hermey was pleased with the result.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Clive!” Karlach said excitedly when Hermey passed the bear back to her. “You even fixed his melted nose!”

Hermey nodded, a proud smile creeping onto his face. If working in Santa’s workshop had been like this, maybe he would have been more willing to stay. “It should hopefully be harder to melt, too, but I make no promises at that. Changing a toy that’s already been imbued with power is something that I’ve never done before, and it’s harder than it looks.”

“Impressive,” Gale said, stepping closer to Karlach to examine the stitches. “So you have the ability to fix toys, but I wonder how far that can stretch.” Gale’s eyes bore into him, as though searching for something. “How are you feeling? Tired at all?”

“I am,” he admitted, “but no more tired than I was this morning. We used to work from dawn until dusk every day in the workshop, so one mending doesn’t take much energy from me. Even if it’s a bit of an unusual one.”

“Then I hope you don’t mind if I ask you for another unusual one. Astarion,” Gale said, his eyes flicking to the pale elf who stood to the side of the group with his arms crossed, looking generally inconvenienced to be traveling with this group. The elf’s eyebrows flicked up in answer when Gale said his name. “Do you happen to be carrying a dagger on you? One that you wouldn’t mind temporarily giving to Hermey?”

“Bold of you to assume that I only have one dagger on me,” he said. He flicked his hand, and a dagger appeared almost like magic. He threw it into the air lightly, deftly catching the tip of the blade with his fingertips and holding it out to Hermey.

Hermey’s fingers wrapped around the cold metal of the handle, his fingers trembling so much that he barely noticed the utter lack of the warmth he’d come to associate with this place. Hermey had held blades in the kitchen, of course, but never one that was honed as a weapon. There was no magic to the metal, but the sheer power behind the dagger itself was enough to make him cringe. “Why do I need this?” Hermey asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“To test a theory of mine,” Gale said, as though that answered every question still hiding behind Hermey’s eyes. “You see, I’ve been a study of magics ever since Mystra took me under her wing. While I’ve never heard of ‘toy magic,” as you call it, I have heard of magic wielders who are able to craft objects magically. Now, maybe your gift is limited to toys, but what is a weapon if not a toy for the right person. Right, Astarion?”

Astarion smiled, his eyes looking hungrily at the dagger in Hermey’s hand. Being the focus of the elf’s gaze made his heart skip a beat, and he swallowed, trying to hide his nerves as best he could. “Daggers are definitely my favorite toy,” he agreed.

“And if you could keep from looking like you want to eat Hermey before we’re done with the experiment,” Wyll added, “it might help you get a better weapon.”

Astarion sighed but rolled his eyes away from Hermey. “A little snack might help us in the goblin camp, anyway.” He turned from the group, turning back just long enough to give a small smirk. “Do tell me if anything hilarious happens while I’m gone.”

He flicked his gaze to Hermey, but Hermey was too busy staring at his teeth to notice. He’d seen them before, of course, but in his fear, Hermey was not in a state to truly examine them. He’d thought they were overgrown and perhaps displaced, creating the appearance of overly large canines. But now as he looked, Hermey realized that it wasn’t just a matter of appearance - they were truly twice as long as his other teeth, and filed to a sharp point. He’d need a lot more than braces to fix them. Now he understood why Karlach called him “Fangs.” He almost said something, but before he got a chance, Astarion whipped around and stalked off toward the forest.

“Oh, don’t mind him,” Gale said, turning back to Hermey after watching Astarion leave. Hermey couldn’t help but notice that while he was around, most of the team seemed compelled to keep a slight eye on him. “He’s a bit hungry this morning after such an eventful night, and his diet is a bit harder to procure than most.”

Gale waved at the dagger in Hermey’s hands, and Hermey turned his eyes to the blade. It was a fairly plain blade, and there were some light scratches that most likely came from use, but other than that, he didn’t know what would need to be mended on it. But maybe, he thought, he could make some improvements. “What sort of food does he eat?” Hermey asked, not fully paying attention to his own question.

Gale rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes darting to the side guiltily. “Blood,” he admitted after a second. “He’s a vampire. But he hasn’t bitten anyone in the camp, just our enemies,” he quickly added.

“And he won’t be biting anyone if he wants to keep his head,” Shadowheart grumbled behind him.

“Too right. Trust me, we had more than our fair share of debating when we first found out, but everyone in this camp has promised to keep our teeth to ourselves. Now,” Gale said, waving his hand at the dagger in a silent request for Hermey to continue.

Hermey shrugged, his eyes still on the blade. “Never met somebody like Dracula before. I thought they were just a myth.” If he was anything like that, he’d need a blade that would work specifically for him - something that could withstand super speed and strength, and something that could become invisible with him. Or at least something that would blend into the shadows well. Gale opened his mouth to say something, but before he could speak, Hermey released his power on the blade, flooding the group with a bright, white light.