Elody woke with a start. She attempted to sit upright, but the pain shooting through her body made a strong argument to lay back down. She opened her eyes, seeing a roof above her head, concave and dark. The mottled brown of the ceiling domed outwards and shifted to a more consistent white less than halfway to the ground.

  As she looked down towards the ground, she saw that there were figures crouched next to her, and Elody yelped as she registered them being so close to her. One was similar to the creature that had taken her here, another was a short humanoid she couldn't identify.

  “How are you feeling?” Came a low voice, layered over a quiet rumble. The monstrous one was speaking to her from her right side. It pushed a cup towards her. “Water.”

  Elody blinked and suppressed her rising fear. If they wanted to hurt her, they would have done so already. Instead, she was in a hilariously oversized bedroll and being given water. She knew nothing about her circumstances, but understood the hospitality she was being given, and was immediately grateful.

  “I…” Elody began, stopping as she heard her own raspy voice. Barely any sound came out, and stopped trying to speak. She slowly reached with her good arm, and took the cup. With slow, careful sips, she drank until the cup was drained.

  The short man said something in a language that she could recognize the sounds of, but didn’t actually understand. She tried to think what language it might be, but in her addled state, she couldn't place it. It sounded so silly to her, a constant drawling sound as he spoke. The other figure nodded at him, then turned to Elody.

  “Pardon me,” They asked, “But what language do you speak?”

  Elody goggled at them, shocked that she could understand him. It was a strange understanding, though, as though he were speaking twice at once, and she only understood one of the two.

  “Adstrani,” She croaked.

  “That’s it!” The short man exclaimed, now speaking a language Elody understood. It wasn't Adstrani, but rather a lingua franca that was used frequently by traders, travelers, and ambassadors. Most people that Elody knew were familiar with the language in passing, but Elody had spent time learning it, since she ran a shop. Had run a shop, she bitterly remembered.

  “Yer those folk from that desert way up north, right? You gotta tail back there? Walled cities and all?” He elaborated. He spoke with a heavy drawl, an accent that Elody recognized, but couldn't quite place.

  “Yes!” Elody replied, happy to have some kind of connection back to her home, as tenuous as it may be. “Except for the northern part. I'm from the southern Pelera desert region.”

  The man shrugged.

  “North of where I come from, then. Name’s Sam, travelling merchant and evidently the other person who can talk to you. This big ol’ softie here is Hugh. He’s got a magical doohickey that lets him talk to others no matter the language. Don’t ask how it works, he won’t shut up about it. Oh, and he’s got an earring that lets him understand you. Again, don’t ask.”

  Hugh waved.

  “It’s nice to meet you both,” Elody said, before her face took on a dour expression. "Well, sort of. I would much rather not be here at all, really."

  “You are still in bad shape,” Hugh said, “Maril came by while you were asleep and dressed your wounds. She would like to have some words with you, once we tell her that you are okay. I will stand in, as Sam told me, as a translator."

  A loud grumble emanated from Elody's midsection.

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  “I hate to beg, but would it be possible to get anything to eat? I haven’t eaten in…” Elody paused, realizing she had no idea how long she had been asleep. “A long time.”

  Hugh nodded and left the small building, leaving Sam and Elody alone. For a few minutes, neither said anything. Elody tried to get comfortable in the oversized bedroll, but couldn't find a good position. Sam showed no signs of interest, but eventually tired of the awkward silence.

  “So what’s yer name? You never did say.”

  “My name is Elody," she said, propping herself up on her elbows. It still wasn't comfortable, but hurt her neck this way. "Its nice to meet you, I suppose? This isn’t what I’d call the best circumstances to meet under.”

  “Elody,?” Sam repeated. “Just Elody? Any surname?”

  “Elody Kyne.”

  “Kyne, huh? That's a funny name.” Sam said with a smirk.

  "What's funny about my name?" Elody asked.

  "Where I come from, ‘Kyne’ means ‘someone’ or 'anyone'," Sam chuckled. "It sounds like a bad attempt to make a fake identity.”

  "No, nothing like that! I’m just... Out of sorts, still. Bad day. Days. However long." She took a breath to ground herself, and changed the topic away from herself. “What about you? Is your name just ‘Sam’?”

  "Sam's short for 'Samengawin," Sam said with a sheepish expression. "I don't usually tell folks, but I'm feelin' pity for you."

  “No surname?” Elody asked with a smile.

  “We don’t do surnames. We’re the odd ones of the world, I know. We prefer mononyms.”

  “Who’s ‘We’?”

  “Timberfolk,,” Sam said with another one-armed shrug. “Bit short an’ stocky compared to other folks, live up in enormous trees and in a big ol’ happy family?”

  “Oh!” Elody exclaimed, sitting up so quickly that spikes of pain went shooting through her body. She recovered, and more slowly sat up before continuing. “You’re dwarves!”

  Sam’s eyes, previously pleasant and meandering, became sharp. Elody could feel Sam’s gaze piercing into her as his voice became flinty.

  “You call me that again, and I’ll make sure your recovery time is doubled,” Sam said, then letting his voice soften again. “But, yer hurt enough, so I’ll let you off with a warning. Call us Timben or Timbs, or even damn treehuggers, just not that.”

  “I’m,” Elody’s voice stuttered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know-”

  “It’s fine. Just another foreign moron.”

  “I just- I thought that’s what you were called? I didn’t mean to offend, really. What’s wrong with being called dw-, er, with that term?”

“We ain’t been called ‘Dwarfs’ for the better part of a millennium now! And even then, it just means ‘really short people’. Ain’t that kind of rude, Elody? We ain’t even the shortest folk around! We’re just shy of average, yet everyone else tries to get off calling us the small people. Kiss my ass.”

  “I’m,” Elody choked up again with the confrontation, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”

  “It’s fine,” Sam said with finality, “Let’s talk ‘bout something bit comfier, huh? Whaddya do, Elody?”

  Elody grasped the conversational thread handed to her like it was a lifeline thrown to a drowning sailor.

  “I’m a pharmacist. I take herbs, plants, and other compounds, either magical or mundane, and grind them, mix them, or purify them in order to make medicines for ailments and treatments for people,” Elody explained.

  Sam’s expression perked up at this.

  “Yer a trained professional?” Sam asked.

  “I’ve been doing this for almost a decade now. I’m among the best in my city," She said, hanging her head. "Was. Was the best in my city."

  “How in the world did you end up all the way out here, then?” Sam asked.

  "Truthfully, I'm not sure. I've only had a little time to think about it, really. I've been trying my best not to die and doing a rather poor job. The last thing I recall is-"

  "Wait," Sam cut her off. "Is this gonna be really involved?"

  "Maybe? I guess?" Elody replied. "Why?"

  "Might want to save it for the other two when they get back," he explained. "I'm sure they'll want to hear, too."