“I don’t know if I’ve come across this ‘Dracula’ in my readings, but if they’re a full vampire, they’re definitely a good person to know,” Gale said as the bright light faded from his face. His narrowed eyes were the only indication he had seen it at all, as his face looked more like someone who’d been asked a difficult question rather than someone who was having their theory confirmed. “This North Pole of yours must be quite the center of power, and you seem to be right in the middle of all of it.”

Hermey ignored him, looking instead at the dagger in his hands. It perfectly matched the idea he’d had in his mind - the blade had narrowed to almost the width of a scalpel, tapering to a point that would be perfect for either stabbing or slicing. The idea of Astarion using it for just that in battle made him a bit queasy, but he ignored his stomach. The handle of the blade had smoothed out under his grip, creating a lithe handhold that would better complement the balance needed for Astarion’s speed. And, he thought, most importantly, instead of the steel blade and light wooden handle that had originally built the weapon, the whole of the dagger was a dark black. Perfect for hiding in the shadows while Astarion fought.

“So it worked,” Gale said, his eyes flashing down to the blade in Hermey’s hand.

“It worked beautifully,” Shadowheart said, eyeing the weapon in a way that made Hermey know that she’d be asking him to design a weapon for her soon.

Gale reached for the dagger and Hermey happily handed it over, glad to be rid of the weight of it. He knew they were going to the goblin camp today, and there had been subtle insinuations that their hands would get dirty, but he wanted to keep the blood off his hands for as long as possible, even by proxy. Just the thought of seeing more death was enough to make his head start spinning, but he shuffled his steps, taking a wider stance and bending his knees slightly, just like they had been taught to do whenever elf practice ended up going long into the early hours of the morning.

“Exquisite,” Gale said, holding the black blade up to the light. The dark stone of the blade itself sparkled slightly, and Gale brought it down to slowly flick the pad of his thumb across the blade, testing the sharpness. “I think Astarion is going to be thrilled with his new toy.”

“I modified it as best as I could for him. Or, rather, for Dracula’s characteristics, since I don’t know much about Astarion,” Hermey said with a shrug. He didn’t bother correcting Gale’s assumption that he knew Dracula - he’d just seen the movie when it’d come out, in anticipation that children would be making Christmas wishes based on it. He thought he might have seen one or two Dracula-related things come down the line, but for the most part, it thankfully hadn't been a huge hit to the kids - Hermey didn’t think he would have been able to stomach putting so many weird sets of teeth on toys. Regardless, though, it didn’t seem like it mattered whether Hermey knew him or not, as the appreciation on Gale’s face let him know he’d guessed correctly. “Weight and balance for being able to move quickly, and a design that will let it better hide in the shadows.”

“Perfect for Astarion,” Gale said, nodding his hand slightly with approval. “Well, that answers that question - you can manipulate other objects as well.”

“Just toys,” Hermey said. He wasn’t sure why, but he could feel in his bones that that was the case. “But perhaps the definition of ‘toys’ is broader than I originally thought. After all, a dagger isn’t really that different than a BB gun or a bow and arrow, and I’ve made plenty of those.”

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“Fascinating,” Gale marveled.

“And armor really isn’t that different than play clothing,” Shadowheart added. “But if we keep testing this all morning, we won’t get to the goblin camp before the sun sets, and I for one don’t want to spend the night there if we can help it.”

Gale nodded, looking obviously upset that he wouldn’t get to test more of his theories, but he turned away from Hermey regardless. “Too right you are, Shadowheart. There’ll be plenty of time for experimentation in our downtime. For now, let’s see what we have for weapons that might fit you.”

Hermey swallowed at the hard lump that seemed to be a permanent part of his throat while in this camp, but started following Gale. He wasn’t sure that he even wanted to be carrying a weapon, much less use one. He’d never lived a life of violence - some yelling, sure, and maybe some running from the Abominable, but he’d never been in a situation where he’d had to draw blood to survive. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to if he tried. But he didn’t want to lose this group, the first sense of potential security since he’d crashed in this land, just because he was unable to carry a chunk of metal. He’d grapple with his inability to use it later - with any luck, if there was actually a fight, it would be too chaotic for anyone to notice if he hid instead.

“I’d go for something one-handed, if possible. Maybe two-handed, if it’s small enough?” Wyll pondered to the group. He stepped to the side of Hermey, his one eye raking down his body while the stone eye set disturbingly still in its socket - Hermey tried his best not to notice.”I’ve always been a fan of rapiers, myself, but the length might be a bit unwieldy for you.”

“I was thinking a mace,” Shadowheart said, taking position on the other side of Hermey and grabbing her weapon out of the sling on her back. She looked at the weapon in her hands for a moment before looking back at Hermey, as though trying to calculate if he’d actually be able to use it. “I think the length would be right, but I’m not sure it’d be the most effective weapon for your height. You could, of course, take out someone’s kneecaps and then attack them when they’re down, but that takes additional time.”

Hermey felt his empty stomach turn, and he was for once grateful that he hadn’t eaten anything. Shadowheart talked of violence so casually, like it was an inevitability that he’d be killing someone. Hermey couldn’t. Wouldn’t. And yet, he thought, not paying attention to what Gale responded with as he watched the sway of his robes as the man walked ahead of him, this wasn’t the world he’d grown up knowing. This world seemed cold and cruel, and if he wanted to survive for long enough to see his friends again, maybe he’d have to get used to a certain level of violence.

His stomach flipped again.

“Well, maybe we should let Hermey decide for himself,” Wyll said, pulling Hermey back to their conversation. Gale stepped to the side, and Hermey was faced with a large, open chest on the ground. In it, glints of various metals shined in the early morning light. Hermey stepped forward, mentally willing his stomach to stay in place.

Inside the chest were various blades - some of them were aligned in makeshift sheaths along the sides of the chest, but most just lay at the bottom. Hermey certainly wouldn’t be rifling through the box, at least not if he wanted to keep his hand, he thought.

“What about a scimitar?” Gale suggested, reaching into the box and pulling out a blade that nearly as long as Hermey. “They’re Astarion’s favorite for a reason, after all.”

Shadowheart shook her head. “They’re too long - he’d be knocked off balance in an instant.” Shadowheart also moved toward the box, most likely to make a different suggestion. Hermey, however, paid her no attention, as his eyes locked on a weapon laid on the ground outside of the box.

It was impractical. It was much too large for him. And yet, when he felt his hand moving toward the pickaxe almost of its own volition, he knew it was exactly what he needed.

“A pickaxe?” Gale noted, his eyebrows raising as he noticed Hermey’s movement. “A most unusual choice, I must say. Are you sure it’s not too large?”

“It’s perfect,” Hermey said as his fingers wrapped around the handle. The pickaxe was heavy - he’d have to do some training with it before he could use it properly, but the weight felt good in his hands.

“Then by all means!” Gale said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s let the others know and we can head out!”