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Minthara sat in her tent, watching from the comforts of her hideaway as the other companions interacted. They danced and shared plentiful drinks around the campfire, celebrating another victory as a new villain fell in their shared conquests of eradicating the Absolute.
She had a lot of time, too much time, to think about her past failings and what led her to this exact moment. Each blunder was a fresh wound that Minthara never fully allowed to heal. She flinched in discomfort as she forced herself to replay every single memory, over and over, watching as her grander ambitions, those hopes and dreams she desperately clung to, dissolved faster than a heartbeat - slipping through her fingers like the spilt blood of her enemies.
There was indeed a lot to be thankful for since joining the party. The mismatched group of adventurers somehow welcomed Minthara with open arms, even going so far as to rescue her from Moonrise, despite her initial hostility towards them. Something she still failed to grasp, unfathomable from her violent and solitary upbringing.
The camp, and those who occupied it, eventually grew to her liking, no matter how hard she tried to resist it. She’d sooner slit her own throat than dare admit that to anyone. She couldn’t get too comfortable, no matter how much she enjoyed watching them go about their mundane tasks.
No.
Minthara would not make that same mistake again, she would not let her guard down under any circumstances. Just one moment of weakness, a sign of hesitation, would lead to her doom. No matter how precise her plans were, there could be no predictions as to what the next day had in store, or how the tides would alter the conflicts ahead. Minthara had to prepare, to make sure she was ready for whatever fight awaited her, whether that was at the camp or on the battlefield.
Soon the joviality died down and quiet once again enveloped the encampment. Minthara attempted to relax, lying on her bedroll, but it was no use. She tossed and turned, unable to find an agreeable position. She closed her eyes, searching for sleep, hoping she would be able to escape into the void, into nothingness, where she would no longer be consumed by the constant pressures of her damned existence. But there was only chaos waiting for her there. Minthara’s mind raced, one thought, one fear leading to the next until she could no longer shut out the voices scratching at her skull.
She sat up, her hands knotting into fists as she growled in frustration, ready to rip her lodging to shreds. Minthara paused however, when a soft humming sound floated in from outside her tent, pulling her away from those cursed thoughts. She peeked through the flaps, only to find Jaheira sitting alone at the bonfire. The Druid played with the flames in front of her, creating various animals from the embers that floated above it. Jaheira sang an unrecognisable yet pleasant melody as she made the animals move aimlessly around her.
Minthara let herself unwind, a wave of calmness washing over her as she continued watching Jaheira, transfixed at her simple display of magic.
She quickly eyed the rest of her surroundings, focusing on each companion's tent, searching for any sign of movement or sounds within. After a moment of stillness, she grew satisfied at the confirmation. They were the only two left awake in the camp, hopefully it would remain that way.
Minthara bit the side of her lip, her chest tightening as she forced herself to crawl out of her shelter. She had exchanged a few pleasantries with Jaheira, nothing more than a hello or acknowledgement of their current surroundings, as they passed each other around the camp. They never had a moment alone, despite fighting side-by-side since the Shadow Cursed Lands.
Before meeting, Minthara heard stories of Jaheira’s skill as a warrior, how the headstrong Druid was an active part of her community, bravely fighting as she sought justice and a better life for her people. All the stories served true, from what Minthara saw so far. Admirable, even for a surface dweller.
Each step felt heavier than the last as Minthara slowly approached Jaheira. She stood on the outskirts of the bonfire for perhaps a moment too long, clearing her throat as a way to announce her presence when Jaheira did not immediately notice her.
“Ah, Minthara.” Jaheira spoke, gesturing to the seat next to her without pulling her eyes away from the flames. “Please, sit.”
Minthara hesitated, deciding to walk over to the opposite end of the bonfire. This caused Jaheira to focus her gaze on Minthara, carefully observing her as the magical animals disappeared in a puff of smoke. Jaheira’s eyebrow soon raised in amusement as Minthara continued to shuffle her feet, unsure whether to leave or take her seat.
“I did not wish to disturb you. Carry on, by all means.” Minthara muttered.
“Nonsense. You are just as reticent as a porcupine. Lower your spikes, at least for tonight. I promise I won’t bite.” She grinned as she spoke, enthusiastically patting the seat beside her. “I’m not as scary as I may seem. Initially. Though, don’t ask my children. I’m sure they would tell you I’m a monster, ha!”
Jaheira let out a hearty chuckle.
Minthara found herself smiling too, laughter escaping her lips as she finally decided to plop herself down next to the Druid. She sighed, relaxing her shoulders and looking up at the sky. It was clear, thousands of stars sparkling all around them. A sight she could never get used to.
“Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I play with fire. A bad habit of mine,” Jaheira continued, conjuring a small fiery cat. It sauntered above the flames, moving in slow circles. “Almost like counting sheep, no?”
Minthara hummed in agreement.
“It’s beautiful.”
A slight smile crept along Jaheira’s lips as she made the cat jump across the flames.
They sat together, sharing the silence while Jaheira conjured one animal after another; from panthers to owlbears, she paraded them around the air with elegance. Jaheira twirled her fingers as she orchestrated the animals movements, and Minthara caught sight of a large scar running along the Druid’s wrist.
“A remarkable scar.” Minthara noted.
“Hmm? Oh, this old thing?” Jaheira twisted her wrist, examining it against the firelight. “This body has seen it all, believe it or not. I have so many. Although I’m not sure if I have any recollection of this one anymore.”
“As long as your adversary got what they deserved in the end.”
“Not all my scars are from battle.”
“No?” Minthara held back an exclamation, tilting her head in curiosity.
“Here, these are from my youth, a result of falling out of a tall tree.”
Jaheira extended her leg, pulling her trousers up above her thighs and pointing towards a round scar on her knee. Minthara leaned in closer for a better look.
“Curious…” Minthara responded, reaching her hand towards Jaheira’s leg. “May I?”
Jaheira nodded.
Minthara lightly touched Jaheira’s knee, observing the white jagged shape of the scar that covered most of the area. The scar was rough to the touch and just as wrinkled as the surrounding skin. She observed two identical scars covering both limbs.
“As I said, I found myself climbing one too many trees when I lived among the Druids. I quite enjoyed the thrill of escaping high into the clouds.”
“My scars serve as reminders, a display of a Drow’s skill and strength.” There was a pause as Minthara contemplated showing Jaheira her own markings, but immediately shook away any trepidations. “This one here was from an assassination attempt. One of many.”
Minthara raised her arm, pointing to a wide scar under her forearm, leading towards her elbow.
“It was intimate. The dagger went clean through. You should have seen the other Drow, however. Scum. Long dead, their remains somewhere in the pits of the Clawrift.”
“A rough way to live.”
“It was the only way I knew how, for a time.” A few painful memories bubbled to the surface of Minthara’s consciousness; abandoning Lolth for the Absolute, losing herself completely to Ketheric Thorm’s vacant promises…
“Well, look at this one then.” Jaheira interrupted, much to Minthara’s relief.
Jaheira lifted her nightshirt and pointed to a thick scar under her ribs.
“Stabbed by a Bhaalspawn. Twice. Here… and here.” She turned slightly, showcasing the second wider scar on the opposite side of her stomach.
Minthara brought her leg out, resting it on top of Jaheira’s. She rolled her pants up, pointing to her calf and upper thigh. There were three triangular shaped scars scattered across her leg.
“I’ll match you. Three arrows. Laced with toxins. While hunting down some Drow from an enemy house. I hung them all afterwards, for heresy and for ruining a good pair of trousers.”
Jaheira’s eyes widened, perhaps in astonishment and in awe. Minthara smirked with pride.
“Oh an arrow! I’ve got a fun one.”
Jaheira pointed towards a star shaped wound on her left side, now faded with age.
“Right above my heart, any closer I’d be dead. Just like that.” Jaheira snapped her fingers, “Attacked while I was a panther, mind you. An old friend tried to take advantage of me. I spent hours cleaning the blood off my fur.”
Minthara bobbed her head in approval as she pictured Jaheira as a panther, sitting next to a stream, blood clouding the freshwater as she soaked her paws.
“And what are those ones from?” Jaheira asked.
“Where?”
Jaheira pointed towards Minthara’s chest, to the series of scars that appeared through her night clothes.
Minthara’s face contorted, a grimace of distaste twisting her mouth. She knew which scars the Druid was referring to. Her eyes drifted to her chest, going over the deep cuts covering at least half of her right upper breast. Minthara’s mind flickered to Orin, to the torture she endured for weeks, the seemingly never-ending pain and suffering at the hand of that monstrosity. The humiliation, the embarrassment. Minthara’s body quivered with rage as she struggled to keep her searing temper from flaring, from soiling their conversation.
“Minthara, we don’t need–”
“No.” Minthara paused, taking a deep breath. She lowered her right strap, showcasing the display of wounds on her flesh. “Orin’s endeavour of branding me. I had refused then, making my own lacerations above hers while I waited for my end. I would not be marked, or owned. But that only made things worse, Orin took satisfaction in my rebellion. This is now a token of my failings.”
Jaheira considered Minthara’s words, rubbing her fingers against her chin in thought. The Druid raised her hand towards Minthara, without warning, causing her to flinch. Minthara nearly reached for her concealed dagger out of reflex. Jaheira halted her movement, conscious of Minthara’s sudden apprehension. Minthara steadied her breath, quieting her pounding heart. Jaheira merely wanted to perceive the old wounds, not cause anymore.
Minthara bowed, their eyes locking as she gave her consent to continue. Jaheira proceeded to place her hand on Minthara’s chest, covering the scars.
“We’ve all been there, in one way or another. Ensnared in vines, unsure of an escape. It is wise not to forget the past, Minthara. Your shortcomings can make great teachings, but don’t dwell on them for too long. There is much yet to enjoy, to live for.”
Minthara smiled, a rush of emotions flooding over her. A lump grew in her throat and she quickly swallowed the tears she would not shed, not in front of anyone. The kindness from Jaheira in that moment, the understanding from not only her, but of the entire camp, was overwhelming.
“Yes, more enemies to vanquish by my blade alone.” Minthara said eventually, her voice cracking.
“That’s the spirit,” Jaheira spoke, nodding in agreement. “How about a drink?”
Before Minthara could respond, Jaheira was on her feet, scurrying towards her tent. She was back in a matter of seconds, not even giving enough time for Minthara to escape if she wanted to. The Druid held a large bottle of wine and two mugs, grinning like a child about to get up to some mischief.
“What are we drinking to? If I may ask?”
“To our scars. To survival. To living. And t–”
“To vengeance perhaps?” Minthara interrupted.
“Why the Hells not! But, most importantly, I say, let’s toast to friendship.”
Jaheira opened the bottle with a gratifying pop, pouring a generous amount of wine into both mugs.
“To friendship.” Minthara said, accepting her beverage.
Jaheira wore a wide smile, raising her mug high. Minthara’s cup met Jaheira’s and without a moment’s delay, the two began to drink.
Minthara took a small sip initially, letting the sweetness of the wine slide down her throat. Her cheeks flushed at the alcohol, her skin tingling slightly from the initial buzz.
“There are no toxins in this, I hope.” Minthara said, “I will have you know I have built quite the tolerance for most poisons. It would be a waste on your end. I’d expect better from you, anyways.”
“Duly noted,” Jaheira responded.
The two could barely keep a straight face before they laughed in unison, Jaheira nearly falling over backwards. Their laughter echoed into the night, Minthara not caring if she woke any of the companions.
Friendship.
The word fluttered around Minthara’s brain, filling her heart with an unexpected amount of joy and warmth. Whether that was from the wine or from her evening spent with Jaheira, she did not know, nor did she wish to dwell on it. She didn’t want this night to end. Perhaps she would open herself up more often, and join in on the next celebration, if she felt up to it.