“My parents were dwarves.”

Helbram only looked at Leaf as his companion wringed his hands.

“Adoptive parents,” he clarified.

“Nonsense, all this time I thought you to be a half-elf and in reality I was mistaken, for you were nothing but a really tall dwarf,” Helbram smirked, “with very lanky limbs.”

“Shut up,” Leaf said with a laugh. He paused, but tension released from his back and his shoulders relaxed as he collected himself. Whatever apprehension he held before was gone, and Leaf looked at Helbram, gratitude clear in his eyes.

“They belong to Clan Hammerhand,” he continued, “or rather, a small offshoot that left the mountains of Rodun to settle here in the Freemarks. A village by the name of Ironholm, pressed up against the Spine and within spitting distance of Blade’s Rest,” he leaned back on his bed, “As you can imagine from the name, the clan was favored the use of hammers, be it for smithing or mining… but my parents were the odd couple. In place of a pick my father took up the bow, and the calluses of my mother’s hands were that of the mortar, not the mallet.”

He let out a long breath, “I know it’s not so common now, but Hammerhand is a peculiar clan. They’re the type who liked to poke fun at those that strayed away from tradition, to tell them that they weren’t really dwarves, just souls that had gotten lost in the wrong skin,” his fists clenched, “they never did seem to notice when the woods were clear of wolves, when they had plenty of deer to weather the winter, and when there were poultices and remedies aplenty. No, they pointed and laughed at the pair of crazies who took shelter in the woods while they covered themselves in buildings of stone and iron.”

He closed his eyes, “A pair of crazies who could not bear children…”

Helbram leaned forward and allowed Leaf a moment to himself.

“They told them it was a punishment, a price to pay for stepping away from tradition, from what all dwarves were called to do. But still, they pressed on, loving each other and doing what they knew they could do best. And in time, as they were walking through the woods, they happened to hear a cry. It was weak, like the faintest of breezes through the trees, but still did they both hear it, the wailing of a babe,” he smiled, “so of course they ran to it, seeing a bundle of cloth with a small person inside of it, laying on a pile of leaves…me. Whoever had left me there was long gone, and so the childless couple was given that which they desired,” Leaf’s voice grew tender as he spoke, “My father, ever the clever man, thought it was the smart thing to do to name me after the very thing I was found on.”

“Your mother did not try to talk him out of it?” Helbram asked.

“Oh she did, because she thought the name Dew was a much better fit,” Leaf snorted, “On account of all the drops that had formed on cloth that bundled around me,” he shook his head, “Let’s just say I prefer Leaf between the two.”

“Agreed.”

“Anyway, they took me home and raised me, and you would think that would be that,” Leaf leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, “but it turns out there are some obvious differences when it comes to raising a half-elven child as a couple of dwarves, one who would think that he would grow up just like the ones who raised him,” he scoffed, “A child that would say how he looked forward to having a beard as thick as his father’s, who thought that he’d grow into someone stout chested and broad shouldered, if a bit on the shorter side… or ask why his eyes were green instead of gray, and why his hair was hazel instead of red.”

“They did not tell you that you were adopted?” Helbram asked.

“Oh they did after I started asking questions,” Leaf explained, “but said questions started sooner than they thought,” he looked to the ground, “My parents never had any problems with that, but younger me… well when a child is told that he’s different he starts to wonder, asking questions such as ‘where are my real parents?’ or ‘do you know what my parents looked like?’. Questions out of curiosity, asked in that innocent way children tend to do even as they drive daggers into your heart, reminding you that you aren’t their ‘real parent’ every single day. With my innocence I broke that small moment of bliss, that time of denial that they could have enjoyed a sweet little lie all to themselves for just a bit longer…”

“I am sure they do not hold anything against you for that,” Helbram said

“And you would be correct, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t change how they acted,” Leaf sighed, “My father shaved his beard a few days after he told me I was not of his blood. He didn’t say that it was because of me, but I was no fool,” he held his hair back, “My mother always kept her hair short before, but in time she grew it out and started to wear it in a ponytail… definitely not a Hammerhand style, that’s for certain,” he gave a weak chuckle, “There was a time where my father attempted to speak proper, like how he thought elves always did, but that lasted about a day before he started cursing up a storm again. My mother… well she always told me how much she liked my hair, my ears,” he looked at his reflection in the window and grimaced, “and my eyes. Did everything in her power to make me feel welcome, to let me know that there was nothing about me that I shouldn’t embrace,” he looked up to the ceiling, “Ironholm, however, was different.”

Helbram crossed his fingers, but said nothing as Leaf continued.

“As always, they poked fun. When they caught wind that they had found a half-elf babe the villagers said that of course they did, because there was no way that the two of them would ever have a dwarven child,” he clenched his fist, “they hadn’t earned the right. Kept telling them that they were glad the ‘correct’ child came along to take up their odd trades, and when my parents started to act all different they had to let their minds be known. Gerolt Smoothjaw they would call my father, and my mother Ronila Longhair.”

“Not the most creative names,” Helbram remarked.

“Right?!” Leaf’s voice flared with indignation, “If they were going to call them names they should have the courtesy to be clever about it, godsdammit…” Leaf shook his head.

“What about you?” Helbram asked, “They ever grace you with your wit?

His friend rolled his eyes, “Leaf Pointy-ears.”

“...please tell me that was something children came up with.”

“It was, but the adult’s didn’t think of anythin’ better,” he scratched his jaw, ”Well, they tried ‘Knife-ears’ for a time but when the person you’re trying to poke fun at asks you if they meant butter knife or dagger it tends to put a damper on things.”

Helbram tilted his head, “You are not wrong. For the record, I would go with butter knife.”

Leaf wiggled his ears, “Well obviously, did you think these nubs were goin’ to be stabbing anyone anytime soon?”

Helbram shrugged, “If anyone was going to find a way, you would.”

His companion opened his mouth, closed it, and just gave him a frown.

“Moving on,” Leaf continued, “we didn’t let the name callin’ get to us, and that’s all it was for a while. My father taught me everything I know about the bow and trekking through the forest and soon I was joining him on his hunts. I’ll never know as much as my mother does about herbs, but I managed to learn enough from her to bring back what she needed on the way home. When we had an excess in meats or plants, we would sell them to Ironholm.”

“Being the only hunter and herbalist in town would be quite profitable,” Helbram said.

“It would, but my parents never took advantage of it,” Leaf pressed his lips thin, “I told them to, after all the shite they kept saying, but my father said it’d only egg them on, and they needed the resources more than we did. My mother, of course, agreed,” he smiled and shook his head, “bleedin’ hearts, the pair of them, too charitable for their own good…”

He tapped his fingers together, “Life was good. I may have not made much in the way of friends for obvious reasons, but so long as I was with my parents, that didn’t matter. Not like a child could match my ever growing wit anyhow,” he rubbed his upper lip with a satisfied smile. Helbram was about to counter his friend’s growing head, but kept silent as Leaf’s eyes fell.

“Two things happened after that,” his voice was solemn, “The first was that Ironholm started to get competitors. Villages that started mines of their own, and while the quality of the ore wasn’t as good, they didn’t have the bright disposition of a bunch of arrogant dwarves. So, Blade’s Rest made due, and the contracts to Ironholm started to slow. After that, a few winters went on a bit too long, and the harvests were low those years as well. Ironholm’s money went down, prices went up, and aurocs will fly before I see any of those fools start to farm.”

“I would say that is rather shortsighted, but given what you have told me I am not surprised,” Helbram said.

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Leaf nodded, “So what do a bunch of ‘traditional’ dwarves do when times are hard? Do they change their ways and eat a slice of humility? No, of course not, they instead find comfort in drink. Not a good investment if you were anyone else, but again, the Hammerhands were a peculiar sort,” his eyes narrowed, “to put it lightly. When you seek solace in ale, let's just say that it doesn’t bring out the best in you. For them at least, my family didn’t want for anything, even in those times. My father and I could always hunt our food and my mother maintained a small garden of her own. We continued on, and if my parents ever partook of drinking on their own they were a much happier sort.”

He squeezed his hand, creating an audible pop as his knuckles cracked.

“So of course everyone got bitter, and what better companion to have with bitterness than envy? The insults now weren’t so shallow, the arrogance was replaced with anger,” Leaf ground his teeth, “How dare they? How dare they succeed when everyone else was sufferin’? How could the two who abandoned tradition and their little mutt of a child live their lives as they always had while the village was fallin’ apart? They didn’t deserve it, they should be as miserable as the rest of Ironholm…” he clasped his shaking hands together, “so they tried to do just what they thought.”

“They started with my mother’s garden. Snuck into it in the middle of the night and ripped all the plants from the dirt, didn’t even try to make it look like animals had done anythin’. My father’s tools were next. The bastards broke into his workshop and smashed all he had with their bloody hammers,” Leaf’s foot tapped against the floor with increasing force, “I wanted to get back at them, rip the fuckers right out of homes and beat them just as they did with my parent’s livelihood, but of course, my parents forbade me from doing so. They rebuilt what was broken and carried on… though my father made a point of bleeding the carcasses of our prey and skinning them at the front of the house, for any curious eyes to see. My mother… well, the next time someone tried somethin’ stupid he went screaming to the healer after a trap sunk its teeth into him.”

“You would think that would be the end of it, but it wasn’t. Sure they never tried anything at the house again, but whenever any of them walked into town it was clear that they were no longer welcome. Sometimes it would be shunning, other times open disdain, and with every passin’ day it got worse. Eventually, only my father would be the one to walk into town, still willing to give the town anything that we did not need. I can’t say everyone rejected his help, but none ever came to his when the drunkards would walk up to him and belittle everything about him. My father bore everythin’, insults and all, and kept returnin’ to the village, helping those that asked him. I was grown at that point, a big, strong man that could stand at his father’s side and two heads above everyone else. He tried to stop me, but I wouldn’t let him refuse… and I did him no good.”

He pulled back and bit his lip as he fell quiet. Helbram joined his companion in the silence, waiting for him to gather himself.

“I went into town with him, did nothin’ else except give the stink eye to any fool that dared to try the same to my old man. No one bothered him for most of the day, right up until we started leaving. Damned drunks said the same old bullshite, and as usual my father ignored them and kept walking, except now he had to drag his hot blooded son away, a new target for the bastard to start slingin’ words at,” Leaf grunted, a sound that was directed towards himself, “That’s when my father stopped walkin’. I was too stupid notice and said some barbs back, and earned a stone to my head for the trouble,” he closed his eyes, “by the time my eyes cleared the old man was already on them, beatin’ the sod who threw the rock within an inch of his life. The other’s tried to get him off of their friend, and when pullin’ didn’t work they thought fists were a better option… and when that didn’t work they sought a bottle to the head would work better.”

Leaf sighed and rolled his neck. The newfound red hue in his eyes gave them an intense look as anger raged behind them, but it quickly faded as sorrow took its place.

“Three bastards went to the healer that day, but my father walked back home, bleeding from the glass stuck in his scalp. It gave my mother a fright somethin’ fierce, but he’s tough arsehole, nothin’ like his son who stood by and watched, stunned like some idiot who forgot how to breath,” he looked back out the window, “An idiot who told his old man that he didn’t need to get hurt because of him. My father only had one thing to say to that: ‘Nobody hurts my family and gets away with it, nobody’.”

Leaf looked down at his feet.

“Truth be told, around that time I was still curious about who my real parents were. Who wouldn’t be, right? But it always pulled at me in some way, and maybe the hate from the villagers pushed me towards wanting to find out as well, but the moment my father said those words, the moment my mother stood at his side and shared in his conviction… that's when that desire died for good. Gerolt and Ronila Broadcreek are my parents, blood be damned,” he snorted, “so of course a few years later they told me to get out and explore the world. I, obviously, said no; Ironholm may have calmed a bit after my father beat their best craftsman’s face in, but I didn’t know if they were goin’ to try some shite when I was gone.”

“But they insisted anyway, said that I needed to go and leave my mark upon the world, and when that didn’t convince me my father decided that he was going to regale me with all the things that he wanted to do with my mother when they finally had some privacy,” he shuddered, “Damn near had me cringin’ out of the house.”

Helbram stifled a laugh. Leaf didn’t bother.

“You should have seen the red on my mother’s cheeks, brighter than any tomato you’ve ever laid eyes on. The slap she gave the old man about knocked his block off, but I could tell that she still wanted me to go too. I’m not so foolish to think that they thought I was some sort of burden, but rather that they were the ones holdin’ me back somehow, when that couldn’t be the furthest from the truth. Still, I can’t say I was never curious about the world, so I eventually honored their wishes, but I swore to myself that, no matter what, I would always remain the man they made me.”

He let out a breath.

“Do you remember the first time you killed a man?” Leaf asked.

Helbram crossed his fingers, “I do. A bandit ambushed me in the middle of the night and in the scuffle my dagger ended up in his chest,” he grimaced, “I can still remember how badly my hands shook after, and how much I emptied my stomach. I thought burying him would ease the panic afterwards, but if anything it just made it worse.”

Leaf looked up at the ceiling “It was a bandit for me as well. A drunk bastard that charged me in the middle of the road. I put an arrow into his throat without batting an eye, and as he looked up at me, blood pourin’ from his mouth, eyes wide as the light faded from them… I felt nothin’,” his fingers started to shake, “My hands were still, and I could taste no bile on my tongue. No, all I thought was that a threat had been taken care of, and I left him on the dirt to rot.”

He shook his head, “My father and I may be hunters, but he always taught me to respect life. To know what it gave, and know what would happen the moment it was gone. I know bandits don’t do anythin’ for the world, just mosquitos in the flesh of men seekin’ to profit off the hard work of others, but he was still a man, and if I was my honorin’ what I’d been taught then I should have felt somethin’ when I sent him back to the Cycle,” he covered his eyes, “but no, I identified him as a danger, eliminated him, and that was that… I can feel that instinct growin’ stronger with every threat I come across, thinkin’ to kill first before considerin’ anythin’ else.”

He met Helbram’s gaze.

“That’s not what a man my parents raised would do, and the only thing that would explain it is what flows through my veins, and the more influence I can feel from it,” he motioned to the red in his irises, “the further I am from that person my parents raised me to be,” he blinked rapidly to keep the tears in his eyes and scoffed, “I can’t let it drag me away from them, Helbram. It may be foolish, but when they see me next, I want that boy they raised to be lookin’ right back at them, not whatever my blood is trying to make me.”

Silence fell over the two of them as Leaf’s head slumped back down. For a moment Helbram could feel the echoes of his nightmare claw at his conscience. Was it really his place to give his opinion about this? To try and guide him when he’d failed to do that for the ones who’s screams still echoed in his mind? He shook his head. Whether Helbram felt like he earned it or not, Leaf needed him.

He would be a fool to ignore that.

“It is not foolish,” he said, drawing his companion’s eyes back to his, “the fact that you are even thinking about it at all proves that what your parents taught you has already taken hold,” he looked at the back of his hand and flexed his fingers, “At the same time, I cannot say that blood does not have any influence. It results in many things; our appearance, our strengths, our weaknesses… and perhaps even our potential,” his clenched his hand into a fist, “However, that does not make us who we are. What we do in the face of all those factors, all that life has granted us, be it from blood or what we are taught, that is what defines us.”

Helbram stood up from his bed and walked up to Leaf, holding out his fist to him, “So far, you have defined yourself as one who speaks his mind, who acts in the face of fear, who protects the ones that he cares about,” he smirked, “and a right stubborn bastard.”

Leaf returned a smirk of his own, “Speak for yourself… but thank you,” he tapped his knuckles against Helbram’s and fell back onto his bed with a groan, “So, what do you think? Should I learn more of what I am?”

Helbram nodded, “I cannot tell if you will like it, but it is better to know than not, in this case. The more knowledge you have of yourself, the more able you will be to refine that which you seek to improve.”

Leaf pressed his lips thin, but eventually returned a nod of his own,“You know, this really was just a long winded way of telling me to know myself.”

“Well, it takes many words to get through that thick skull of yours.”

He knocked the side of his head, “Keeps the ol’ noggin’ well protected,” he looked towards the door, “I’m sure you lot would agree.”

Footsteps scrambled outside their door, fading off further into the inn. Leaf rolled his eyes and hopped out of bed, marching out of the room with a faux anger that failed to hide the smile tugging at his lips. Helbram followed after him into the common room, where he saw Jahora, Elly, and Aria cloistered around a table.

Leaf rested his hands on his hips, “Got yourself a good earful, did you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Elly flipped a page of the book in her hands, “I was just enjoying some light reading.”

“Without your glasses? That’s new.”

The scholar shrugged, “A focusing exercise.”

“Elly,” Jahora said in a dull tone, “Your book is upside down.”

Elly gave a slow blink, “Jahora?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

Leaf snorted and let the mask of his fake irritation drop, “I would have told you all after.”

Jahora smiled, “We know, but we’re not the most patient sort.”

He shook his head, “I would have done the same.”

Aria stood from the table and ran up to Leaf, pulling him into a hug, “Are you feeling better?”

He ruffled the girl’s hair, “Much better, though I can’t help but feel a bit like a fool now.”

“You have no need to,” Helbram said, “but let us use that for fuel tomorrow. We have work to do, if you are up for it.”

Leaf beamed, “Of course I am.”