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Two gold pieces and a feather.
Adaire pursed her lips, surveying the meager remnants of her coin pouch. It had always been much heavier before joining the ragtag group of miscreants that she found herself tied to now. Two gold pieces and a feather. Where did the feather even come from? Fero, most likely - some bird-iteration that got snagged, somewhere along the line. Adaire sat and thought, slowly flipping the two coins around in her weathered palm. What could she possibly buy in Rosemerrow for only two coin? Certainly not what she'd been eyeing -
"Hey, you alright?"
Adaire gave a start, turning and pocketing the coin in one smooth movement before realizing who it was. For such a large man, Hadrian moved with a surprising amount of care and grace, enough that he was able to slide up behind Adaire. She took a mental note to be a little more careful around him and gestured vaguely, palms open towards the sky. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking."
Hadrian leaned against a tree; despite having his arms crossed his posture was remarkably open. He was silhouetted in the flickering light from camp, and although his face was slightly shadowed from it, she could still sense the goodwill in his tone. "What about?"
It took Adaire a split second to answer, to have the internal debate: was it worth asking him? She caved. "Midwinter Festival's happening soon."
Something familiar flickered in Hadrian's eyes. "Aha. Trying to find a gift for someone?"
Adaire stifled a grimace. Was she that easy to read? "Yeah. Finding myself a little drained of funds, though."
"Wish I had something to offer but . . . yeah, I'm just as rich as you, at this point." He chuckled. "We'll be in Rosemerrow pretty soon, though - within the next day or two, and well before the Midwinter Festival. You can pawn something off, or something, to make a few extra coin. She just got that new teakettle, maybe some nice tea would be a good thing to buy."
"Or I can just rob someone," Adaire said, only half-jokingly. Hadrian laughed again, a little more stressed sounding.
"Yeah, well, uh . . . maybe don't? Do that thing," He said haltingly. Adaire waved a hand.
"I was joking." Mostly.
From what little she could see of his expression, he looked relieved. "Oh. That's good. Yeah. Well, I'll - see you around camp? Come back soon, we're getting some supper together."
"Sounds good," Adaire said, hand back in her pocket, fingering the coin. "I'll see you in a moment."
She let Hadrian get a head start and stared after him, ideas swirling in her head. Pawn something off, huh. . .
"Heya Hella!"
Hella glanced up from her bowl at the halfling. "Heya."
"Excited to get to Rosemerrow?" Fero took a hearty bite out of his own meal and said through the half-chewed mouthful, "Lookin' to pick u' anyfing?"
Hella narrowed her eyes at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He swallowed audibly and grinned. "Nothing. Say, I was thinking of getting something for our dear Adaire DuCarte. Y'know, for the Festival. Any ideas?"
Hella blinked. What?
"I'll take that as a no, then." Fero stretched, glancing around conspiratorially before leaning in to talk a little softer. "She's into that mapmaking shit, right? I was thinking about getting her one of those really fancy nice pens, but I don't think I'll have the coin for it. Alas! Alack! I supposed I could sell something or steal something to make up the funds, but between all our other adventuring, who has the energy?" He flashed a bemused Hella a smile and a wink. "Maybe someone else will get it for her. Anyways, I'm gonna go heckle Lem. Laaaater."
Rosemerrow was bright and bustling and confusing. Thank Samothes, Adaire thought fervently, despite not being much of a believer at all, that Lem's . . . friend? Lover? Yeah, definitely lover, had a sweet little bakery tucked away from the hustle and noise. Adaire somehow ended up being the last one in, with Hella right ahead. "After you," Hella said, bodily propping the door open. Adaire nodded her thanks and squeezed past, brushing Hella as she went. Adaire paused just inside the doorway. Was it her, or did Hella's breath hitch?
"Hey, move," Hella complained from just behind. Adaire shook her head, laughing to herself, and went to sit with the group. They had already seated themselves, with Lem busily bustling and chatting with the baker, the only two seats at the table left being squeezed between Hadrian and Fero in some way. Lem and the baker would want to sit together, Adaire reasoned, so she gestured for Hella to sit besides her. Sometimes it's a miracle to get Hadrian and Hella together at the same table at all, Adaire mused. Like fitting two square pegs in a single, much smaller round hole.
"Emmanuel's going to hook us up with some free treats, on the house," Fero said cheerily. "Love that Midwinter spirit, when it means free food."
Hella glanced out of the corner of her eye at Adaire, whose heart skipped a beat. Or two. But hopefully just one - she hoped she wasn't quite in THAT deep, yet. "Speaking of the Festival," she said, haltingly. "I, uh. I got you something."
Adaire felt light-headed. "What? Me?"
Hella pulled a thin rectangular package out of her pack, shooting Hadrian a dirty look over Adaire's shoulder as she did so. Adaire didn't even have to look; she was sure that Hadrian was disgustingly delighted by this gift that wasn't even going to him. Adaire took it, carefully, as if breathing on it wrong would snap it. "I. . . thank you," she said, meeting Hella's eye directly. Was she blushing?
"Open it!" Fero crowed, absolutely ruining the moment. Adaire rolled her eyes and carefully peeled away the brown paper. Underneath the paper was a sleek wooden box, about the size and shape of -
Adaire's breath hitched as she lifted the lid. It was the most beautiful fountain pen she'd ever seen; its nib was extremely fine, its thin barrel twisted with a flourish towards the grip, even a small engraving towards the top. "AD". Her initials.
Her expression must have given something away, because Hella's face screwed up in worry. "Do - do you not like it? I . . . " Her voice softened, to the point that Adaire wasn't sure that Fero and Hadrian would be able to hear. "I sold my kettle for that."
Adaire smiled, first - then chuckled, then outright roared with laughter. Wiping the mirth from her eyes, she patted the bewildered Hella gently on the arm, the closest part of her that she could reach. "No, Hella, I love it. It's gorgeous. It's just. . . I sold my maps and parchment to get you this." She pulled an inconspicuous leather pouch off her belt and, taking Hella's hand in her own, dropped it in her larger palm. "Happy Midwinter."
Hella shook it gently, pulled the drawstrings, gave it a sniff - then also cracked up. "You got me tea!"
"I sure did!" Adaire chuckled again. "We both have lovely gifts that neither of us can really use, now!"
By this point, Lem and Emmanuel had returned to the table with bundles and the whole group was laughing. "Hey," Hadrian offered, eyes bright with humor. "At least new parchment shouldn't be too difficult to come by pretty soon. And we can just make your tea the old-fashioned way for now, Hella."
"And for now, something everyone likes." Lem upended a sweet-smelling burlap sack onto the table's platter, letting dozens of fresh-baked rolls tumble out. "Courtesy of Emmanuel."
An hour of good bread, pastries, and other snacks (and even better conversation) later, Adaire caught Hella’s eye and wordlessly, the two slipped away to talk. It was late enough now that the streets had cleared a bit, and it was easy to find a quiet corner. They stood, facing each other; Adaire had to crane her neck a bit to look Hella in the eye.
“Thank you,” Adaire said finally, softly. “Even though I’m not going to be able to use it right away, it’s a beautiful gift. Thank you for thinking of me.”
Hella snorted, not one for formalities, and abruptly scooped Adaire up, bridal-style. Adaire didn’t even have time to squeak - just cling, precariously, to Hella’s neck.
“Adaire DuCarte,” Hella rumbled, bringing her forehead to Adaire’s. “When don’t I think of you?”