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The sun sat just above the horizon, ready to set at any moment. Gale and Astarion had set up camp in the forest just south of Waukeen’s Rest. While it would have been nice to stay at an inn for once, that one had burned to ashes, so the forest would have to do for now. The rest of the group was out. Gale didn't know where, though Tav mentioned something about a basement hideout. Either way, Gale figured they’d return soon and would appreciate a warm dinner.
“Astarion,” Gale shouted across the fire pit. “I need your help.”
Lounging around in his usual spot, Astarion peered above his open book and quipped back, “No, you don’t.”
Gale crossed his arms, unamused. “Okay, fine. Astarion, I would appreciate your help.”
Astario groaned. “With what?” he spat.
Gale made a gesture to everything in front of him with his arms. “Well, I have a pot, a cutting board, a pile of ingredients, and a fire. Surely you can figure it out.”
“Well, perhaps someone else would say it looks like you’re making food.” Astarion slammed his book shut with both hands. “But I don’t eat food, Gale.”
“You can work a knife, yes? That’s good enough for stew.” With a flick of the wrist, Gale conjured up water for the pot on the fire. “Think about how happy Tav will be to hear that you helped prepare dinner!”
“Tav would be happy with literally anything. That’s how all the heroic types are. Besides, why do you think I care?”
“Oh don’t lie. We both know you care, at least a little.”
Astarion scoffed and rolled his eyes. “What do you need?”
“Can you peel and chop these potatoes for me?”
He sighed dramatically and slumped his shoulders, resigning himself to his fate. “...Sure.”
“You’ll need to wash them too.” Gale nodded towards his tent. “I have a bucket there you can bring over. I'll conjure you some water to use.”
Astarion did as asked and with another flick of Gale’s wrist, the bucket was filled. Astarion sat down, stared at the potatoes, and then bounced his gaze between them and the bucket. Slowly, he clutched a single potato and dunked it in the water. After holding it there for less than a second, he pulled it out and gave it a shake.
Gale chuckled. “You'll have to wash it better than that. Give it a scrub will you?” He mimicked the motion. “I don't want to be feeding everyone dirt.”
Astarion sneered and raised an eyebrow. “What's the point? If I remove the peel, doesn't that remove all the dirt too?”
“Humor me and just do it.”
Rolling his eyes again, Astarion complied. “Alright. As you wish.” He used his palms to give all the potatoes a light scrub. Once that was done, he placed them on a nearby rag and figured it was time to start peeling.
“Wait! What are you doing?” Gale yelled as he saw Astarion pull out a knife from his own pouch and bring it up to the potato in his hand. Gale shook his head and rubbed his fingers to his temples. “When I said that you could work a knife I meant a cooking knife. Do you even know how much blood been spilled onto your dagger?”
“Oh, I’m fully aware of how much blood there’s been,” he said while smirking and tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “Also, I don’t have a cooking knife.”
“There’s one right next to the cutting board. That’s what the cutting board is for. To cut things on.”
Astarion winced and cleared his throat. He shuffled over to the floor where the wooden plank and knife were placed. He grabbed the knife in one hand and a potato in the other one, staring at both, unmoving.
“You don't know how to peel a potato, do you.”
“I haven't got a clue." He laughed. "I was assuming it would be like skinning an animal but easier.”
Gale grimaced. “You didn’t have to make that comparison but okay, forget the peeling part then, it isn't necessary for stew. Just chop it into cubes. Surely you can figure that part out.”
“Cubes…yes, I can do cubes.”
Gale slid his own prepared ingredients into the pot, now at a rolling boil. After a few minutes, a strange scent began to fill the air. Wisps of steam lingered over the campfire.
“Ugh,” Astarion said, wrinkling his nose. “Why does it smell so…rank?”
“Rank? It’s not rank. It’s fragrant . Fragrant Fungus Stew.” Gale tapped the cover of a book lying on the floor next to him with his index finger. “I found the recipe in a cookbook that Tav pilfered in the Underdark. Supposedly, it’s a duergar specialty!”
“Ah yes, because the duergar are so well known for having good taste.”
Gale ignored him. “And we had this hoard of glowcaps, also pilfered by Tav, so I figured we might as well use them.”
“And glowcaps are edible?”
“...Yes?”
“For people who are not duergars? As funny as it would be, I would rather like to not see the entire camp poisoned.”
Gale groaned. “Astrarion, please. I know what I’m doing.”
“Good. Because I. Don’t.” He huffed and placed the knife down next to a pile of cubed potatoes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get back to my book, thank you very much.”
“What do you read all day anyway? Erotica?”
“Ha! Very funny, Gale,” he scowled. “No, I’m just going through whatever the hells Tav throws into the chest at camp. I mean, what else am I supposed to do, sitting around camp?”
“...You could help me cook more often.”
He tilted his head and gave Gale a tight and arrogant smile. “Oh, I’m flattered, but I’d really rather not.”
A dark dread hung above the horizon, just as it did across all of the Shadow-Cursed Lands. Gale and Astarion had set up camp a bit north of Moonrise Towers. Camping within Moonrise itself would have been impossible with Halsin, a non-tadpoled individual who could not pass for a True Soul, in their midst. This would have to do for now.
“Astarion?” Gale shouted across the fire pit. “Can you help me out for a bit?”
Astarion peered over his open book. “Perhaps.” He lowered his book and tilted his head. “What’s in it for me?” he asked.
Gale thought for a moment, stroking his chin, before finally replying. “A nice warm spot by the fire.”
“It is quite cold I suppose... But can't you ask Halsin to help instead?”
“Halsin is taking care of Thaniel right now,” he answered as he tended the fire, crouching in front of it and adding fuel to get it to burn hotter. He made a wary glance over towards Halsin’s camp at the edge of the campsite. “They’re still both in need of rest and recovery.”
Astarion sighed. “Fine. What do you need?”
“I’m going to try to make some Onion Soup.” He scratched his head and mumbled, “We don’t have much to work with right now. Hopefully the others can manage to get camp supplies from a vendor somewhere within the towers.” Then he turned to Astarion and continued, without mumbling, “but I know for a fact that we have some onions somewhere in the chest. It would be very helpful if you could go find them. Then, once you find them, maybe you can help chop them up while I wash out this pot and get some water boiling.”
“And the wine? What about the wine?”
Gale raised his eyes, put his index finger into the air, and explained. “Onion soup is often flavored with a splash of red wine. I’ll also flavor it with dried herbs of course, and I think I have some of those in my pouch, but if you can find a nice wine that you like, bring it over. We may not have much food but we have copious amounts of alcohol from Reithwin Town.”
“And after you use a splash, may I drink the rest of the bottle?”
“...you can pour yourself a glass. Maybe two.”
Astarion shrugged. “Good enough.” He walked over to the chest and fumbled around until he found what he needed. After brushing some dirt off of the bottle, he brought it back over to the fire.
When Astarion returned, the cutting board and knife had been cleaned and placed down by the pot. Astarion went and cozied up to the fire, feeling the heat wash over his skin. Once Scratch caught scent of the food, he approached the two and started circling around Astarion, who gave Scratch a gentle pat on the head.
“Have you ever chopped onions before?” Gale asked.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“It shouldn't be too hard I hope,” A sly smile crept across Gale’s face. “Though, try not to start crying too hard on me, okay?”
“Don't worry darling, I don't cry.”
Scratch wagged his tail and watched as Astarion chopped the onions, crying the entire time.
The sun sat just above the horizon, ready to set at any moment. These early evening rays of lights shone through the curtains of Elfsong Tavern and tinted the floorboards golden. The establishment had all the food they could have ever wanted downstairs, but Gale was insistent on learning how to make the perfect Baldurian Seafood Stew.
“...Garlic, fried tomato paste, and the day's catch,” He nodded his head as he read out loud from a book he found in the one of the Tavern's shelves. “It is best enjoyed with a hunk of crusty bread lashed with butter.”
“Why even bother?” Astarion complained. “You’re so obsessed with trying to make this yourself when we have so much gold on hand! And we're guests in a tavern! Take a break, go buy yourself a bowl of stew if you really want.”
Gale placed the book down on one of the tables he had dragged from the side of the room over to in front of the fire. “It's a classic Baldurian dish. I want to learn how to make it. And maybe, just maybe, I enjoy cooking. Is it that weird?”
“I can’t say I see the appeal,” he scoffed.
“Some of us have hobbies.”
Astarion recoiled, hand to chest, and huffed as if he had been insulted. When Gale didn’t react, Astarion dropped both his arm and his dramatics, and he asked in a warm tone, “Would you…like some help?”
“Yes, that would be quite nice.” He dug around in one of the baskets nearby and pulled out a few potatoes. He placed them on a metal tray. “Can you wash and chop these potatoes for me?”
There was a gleam in his eye as he placed his hand on his hip, shifting his weight. “I am quite good at that now.”
“You are passable,” Gale teased.
Astarion stood straight back up and shot a glare back at Gale. Then, he stifled a chuckle, pushed his sleeves up, grabbed the tray, and went downstairs to ask the chef in the kitchen if he could use their sink for a moment. After doing a rinse and a light scrub on all the potatoes, he hauled them back upstairs and joined Gale on his makeshift food prep counter. The two worked in silence for a while.
Gale was the next to speak. “I’m proud of you, you know,” he said, while slicing up some fish he bought from the market.
“For what?”
“Oh don’t be like that,” he sighed and made eye contact with Astarion. “For refusing the ritual,” he clarified, enunciating every word.
Astarion halted all movement. His gaze grew distant as he grit his teeth and tightened his grip around the knife. “I almost did it. No, I would have done it. If all of you weren't there to stop me, I don't know where or who I'd be right now.”
“But we were there, and you listened to our words and made your decision. Any other hypothetical outcome is irrelevant.”
Astarion forced a smile. “You're right. It isn't worth thinking about anymore.” He handed over the tray of cubed potatoes. Gale grabbed it, walked over to the fire, and slid them into the boiling water. “You know,” he said softly, “I think I might miss this.”
“Miss what? Me hounding you to help me make food you can’t eat?” he laughed as he went back to finish preparing the fish.
The corner of his lips folded back into a smile. This smile was genuine, but his eyes were somber. “Miss traveling around in a group. It’s…nice, having people around you that aren’t trying to make your life miserable. I imagine this little group will disperse after the Elder Brain is defeated.”
“And after the Elder Brain is defeated, what do you think you’ll do?”
“I…don’t know. I never even had the chance to think about it before. But now, I’m free. Truly free.” He frowned. “Though unfortunately, I don't have much of a home to return to anymore.”
“That’s not necessarily a negative. It means you get to choose.”
“And what if I choose wrong?”
“Homes are rarely permanent. They can be wherever you want them to be. You could wander the world, if that is what you choose.”
“What about you? Are you returning to Waterdeep?”
“Yes…after the crown is back in Mystra's hands, I think I will.” He turned back to Astarion. “Do you know much about Waterdeep?”
“No, darling, of course I don’t. Is it not obvious?”
“Would you like to change that? After the Elder Brain is defeated, you could join me, if that is a choice you'd like to make.”
“Are you…inviting me to go with you? Back to Waterdeep?” he asked in a quiet tone.
“I am.”
Astarion frowned and stuttered, “I’m…I’m not sure how the whole sun thing is going to work once the tadpole is gone and all that. I wouldn’t want to hold you back.”
“It might take some time and creativity, but I think we can find a way to manage.” Gale extended his arm, offering his open palm to Astarion. “So, would you like to come with me? You don't have to decide now, but it would be my pleasure to offer you a home.”
After some hesitation, Astarion placed his hand on top of Gale’s and took a deep breath as Gale gave it a light squeeze. “I…would like that very much.”