#sometimes the dialogue just pours out and it's like I'm just sitting here transcribing XD

[blackjackkent]

Prompt fill for @astreamofstars from this ask meme. Jaheira: "Tales take on a life of their own, like weeds. Unless they are tended."

-----

“Ah, my good friend, there you are!”

Jaheira can already feel her jaw clenching as the strident voice rings across the camp in her direction. “Hello, Volothamp.”

“Oh, my, the full name even!” Volo says jovially, striding over to settle himself on the stone ledge against which Jaheira has placed her tent. “Surely we of all people are beyond such formality, are we not?” 

Hector trails after him and catches Jaheira's eye; his lips are pressed tightly together with the effort not to laugh. “And here I was about to offer an introduction, but I see the two of you are already acquainted.”

“Yes, yes!” Volo says enthusiastically before Jaheira can respond. “Though who of the Sword Coast does not know of Jaheira, one might better ask.” His eyes crinkle at the corners in a conspiratorial smile towards her. “I trust you feel I have done my part to bring you the renown you so richly deserve.”

Jaheira quirks one eyebrow up minutely. “Certainly it is by your doing that every bard from here to Athkatla has made coin recounting the tales of my carnal escapades,” she says. Flicking her eyes to Hector, she adds dryly, “Inaccurately, no less.”

Hector frowns. “Is this so, Volo? You have spread falsehoods about her?” 

“Falsehoods? Never. Give me some credit, Lady Jaheira,” Volo says with an air of wounded pride. “I spoke ne'er a single jot of falsehood regarding your love in actuality, for I would never speak ill of the dead. Nor did I imply for an instant that your escapades had the whiff of philandering about them. But you have had many a year of adventuring alone, my dear, tales that deserved the telling, and like a good meal, every good story benefits from spice.”

Hector grins. “I thought every story benefitted from a dragon.”

“You'll find,” Volo says with dignity, “that the two are not mutually exclusive - a fact which has a far wider audience than you would imagine.”

Hector's eyebrows shoot up and then he blushes. “I see.”

Jaheira snorts softly. “They say tales take on a life of their own, like weeds, unless they are tended. But our good friend Volo is no tender of gardens, but rather the fertilizer.”

Volo smiles widely. “You mean that I am a rich and fertile ground upon which stories set their roots?”

“I mean that you are full of cow dung, Geddarm.” Jaheira’s lips twitch.

“Hmph.” Volo scoffs, utterly unbothered by this appraisal. “Genius is never appreciated in its own time. I content myself against the slings and arrows of criticism with the certainty that I set down knowledge which shall last through the ages.” He cocks his head in Hector’s direction. “You were a monk of the Silverlight Archives, were you not, Saer Carlisle? Surely you can appreciate this.”

“Oh, I do,” Hector says earnestly, his eyes glinting with humor. “Normally we insist upon veracity in our tomes but perhaps in your case we can make an exception.”

“How thoroughly gracious of you,” Volo says gravely. “I knew from the first moment I set eyes upon you, you know. I said to myself, ‘Volo, that is a man who can be trusted as a patron of artistic endeavor.’ And I am never wrong in my judgment of character.”

“Mm,” Hector says. “That would be, of course, why you offered to stick an ice pick into my eye three days later.”

Jaheira’s eyes narrow abruptly to slits. “You what?” she snaps.

Volo does flinch just slightly at the sudden ferocity in her tone. “It was a scientific procedure,” he says defensively. “And one I would still happily offer, for I believe your little brain problem has not resolved itself in my absence.”

“He will pass,” Jaheira says coolly before Hector can even formulate a response. “If there is one thing I would trust you less with than history, it is surgery.”

Volo gives an elaborate sigh and waves a hand in resignation. “Very well, very well. By all rights you should have undergone ceremorphosis long ago, in any event, so clearly not availing yourself of my talents hasn’t done you any harm. Besides, we have greater issues at hand. We must speak of Orin the Red, and her--”

“VOLO!” There’s a thundering crash as Minsc comes barreling out of his tent and across the cobblestone of their camp, a wide smile stretching his face from ear to ear. Boo, on his shoulder, sits eyeing Volo with beady-eyed skepticism.

“Oh!” Volo looks mildly alarmed for a moment, but quickly recovers his sang-froid and smiles broadly in return. “Minsc, is it not? What a joy it is to see you and your hamster again!”

“Ah! You see, Boo!” Minsc bellows happily. “I told you he would remember you! And now we shall finally hear the end of the tale!”

“Eh? What tale might that be?” Volo asks.

“Why, the tale of Jaheira and the dragon!” Minsc says with an earnest nod. “The bard which Minsc heard said the ending was not fit for polite company.”

Jaheira groans, rubbing her fingertips against her temples. “Oh, ye gods…” she mumbles wearily.

“Minsc did not think the tavern company was so very polite, for they poured ale upon Boo,” Minsc says, coming down to a more normal volume, his expression pensive. “But nevertheless, Minsc’s curiosity was not to be sated on that day.”

“Nor shall it be today, ranger,” Jaheira says, shaking her head with a pointed look at Volo. “I hear tell that that particular tale has been… suppressed.”

“Mm. Yes. Terribly sorry, my young stone-addled friend,” Volo says brightly, “but instead, come to the fire and I shall regale you with all the tales I have told of your little hamster. For truly he is a hero spoken of with great reverence.”

Minsc considers this. “As well he should be,” he says modestly. “Minsc would hear these tales!”

“Excellent. Excellent.” Volo bounds to his feet and gives an elaborate bow in Jaheira’s direction. “We will speak again, my dear Miss Jaheira.”

“Unfortunately, I’m sure that is true,” Jaheira says ruefully, but she offers a half-bow in return anyway, and she and Hector watch the truly odd pairing of bard and berserker retreat towards the center of camp.

Hector chuckles softly. “It’s hard to hate him, for all his faults. He certainly doesn’t lack for enthusiasm.”

“Mm. Yes.” Jaheira lets out a heavy breath. “I do not begrudge him his tall tales, in truth,” she murmurs, more to herself than to Hector. “The world has need of tales of heroes, and I know this as well as any. But it is… tiring, at times, to hear myself spoken of in such terms, to be painted so larger-than-life with appetites to match, when I know myself to be only life-sized, and with a heart whose pieces have been left behind with the dead more than once.” 

A pause. Then she shakes herself and plasters a smile back onto her face, shooting him a look sideways. “You will come to know this feeling yourself, I suspect, if we continue on this road. There will be no shortage of songs sung of you.”

Hector grins. “I could say I was looking forward to it, but I’d be lying. I’m sure it will make Karlach happy, though.”

Jaheira really does smile now. “Now that is a cause for such stories which I can get behind. She of all people has earned it.”