Trick or Treat!
Borrowed from the lovely just_a_dram
In honor of All Hallow's Eve, I'm inviting trick-or-treaters to my 'door.' Comment "trick-or-treat" to this post and...well, you know the drill. Treats can be anything that strikes my fancy (pics of fave actors or pairings, one sentence fics, graphics, a few words why I'm glad to have you on my flist, etc. etc.). The more " ( Read more... )
“Did you find anything worth eating?”
Brienne huffs a frustrated breath in response to Jaime’s question. She spent the last hour scouring the wooded area in search of game, but the animals proved too quick and cagey to catch in her makeshift traps. She managed to dig up a few roots, collect several handfuls of tart berries, and grab some gourds from the closest clearing.
When she deposits the meager feast at Jaime’s feet, his eyes light up at the sight of the gourds. He picks up the largest one and places it between his knees to steady it before pulling his dagger out of his scabbard. And then it’s a blur of steel and orange vegetable matter as he hacks away, sawing the top off and digging out the innards, which he deposits in the little iron pot next to the campfire.
“What are you doing?” Brienne exclaims, “That’s the best food I found all day, and you’re ruining it!”
Jaime doesn’t look up from the gourd; he merely uses a foot to shunt the pot toward her. “Put that over the flame for a while- we’ll have a mash that’s fine to eat.”
She moves to do just that while still keeping a wary eye on her companion. Jaime’s jaw sets with annoyance as he digs his dagger into the hard skin of the gourd, his left hand making clumsy work of it. Brienne does not offer assistance; she knows better than that. She just stirs the fragrant mash, wincing a bit each time he grunts his frustration.
At last, he steps to her side and reaches down to light a little splint of wood in the campfire. He places the gourd on a flat rock and opens the top, dropping the splint within and closing it again. Brienne looks away from her cooking and laughs at the sight- he’s carved a crude face into the empty gourd, and the fire glows brightly through the eyes and mouth.
Jaime’s eyes shine as bright as the gourd’s as he says, “My uncle used to carve gourds with my brother and me, when we were children. He said that they ward wicked spirits away.”
And then he smiles, all white teeth and sparkling eyes and lightness and joy, and Brienne can do nothing but smile back.
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