[Story]
There were two of them, Trolls, crouched by a bonfire on a beach in Sholazar Basin. Both wore armour, both had their hair back in a braid - though the orange-haired fellow was considerably messier - and both appeared quite relaxed. They were sharing a pipe, which had been passed back to the dark-haired man.
Matojo took a long, deep pull from the pipe and exhaled the smoke from his nostrils before handing the pipe over to Dybo. There was less than a decade between them - perhaps the only reason they seemed so comfortable together - and each had a similar background: Matojo had been a pirate, Dybo had spent his years as a 'professional sneak'. They were both ex-criminals.
As with any man that had an interest in one of the older soldier's daughters, however, Dybo was forced to take part in a certain dance with steps that had been practiced over thousands of years, a dance that fathers participated in with their daughters' beaus on a regular basis. Give, take, give some more, take and back and forth again, that was how it went; Dybo was familiar with the process because it was similar to other things he had done - namely, negotiating for contracts.
"So," Matojo shifted his position until he was lying on his back on that sandy beach and propped his hands behind his head. "What're you expectin' outta my family?"
That gave the sneak some pause. He leaned forward, scratched at his chin - reminding himself, quietly, that he really needed to shave - and replied, "Nothin'. Not ta hate me, maybe? I don' wanna take her away or nothin', mate - I love th'girl, but 'm too old ta settle an' I don' believe in trapping a girl."
"Trappin'?" The old hunter asked.
"Hnnn. I think a' Troll gals like them pretty jungle birds, yanno? They's real happy ta be flittin' about in th' trees, but th'moment ya put 'em inna cage, they wilt. They git sad, sometimes die," Dybo replied. Upon noting Matojo's confused expression, the sneak continued, "Ash's like one a' them birds. I don' wanna put 'er in a cage - so I let 'er do what she wants ta, an' who. She knows I love 'er, tha's all I need ... an' I don' need much more 'n that from th'rest a' yer family. Don' need more than them ta know that I'm 'ere if they needs anythin'."
He watched the older hunter as the man went quiet and chewed thoughtfully on the stem of their pipe. It felt like an eternity before Matojo responded, but he did so with a calmness that masked his confusion.
"So, basically, she's ... you're lookin' for a free ride."
"No! No, no, no." Dybo shook his head. "Look, mate. I love th'girl. Love 'er wit' all m'heart - but when you love somebody, really love somebody? Ya gotta jus' let 'em be. Themselves, yanno?"
It took the older Troll several moments, but he eventually nodded as understanding creeped over him.
"What 'bout kids, then?" Matojo asked.
"Aw, c'mon, you really wanna see that body ruined by - " Dybo caught himself, then cleared his throat. "No, ain't lookin' ta have kids. Don' want kids. I ain't daddy material." The sneak grinned nervously. "But seriously, them curves - "
The old hunter glowered at the other man for a moment, grunted, and took another puff from the pipe. "I don't think that way 'bout my daughter."
"Yeah, yeah yeah yeah, sorry," Dybo replied.
Matojo rolled his shoulders.
"Boy," he said, "I like you. You gotta good head on yer shoulders, for th'most part, and you really give a damn 'bout her. You been bendin' over backwards jus' to please me so yeah, i've noticed - an' it sounds like you really want her to be happy." There was a pause and Dybo bit his lip as he awaited the inevitable but. "Thing I'm worried 'bout is yer line a' work an' th'fact that you don't wanna continue yer family line. ... But that ain't my business. Far as I'm concerned, you're good for her, and you two can do whatever the fuck you want, I ain't gonna interfere."
The sneak was absolutely giddy at the news and couldn't help himself - he latched onto the older troll in a bear-hug, prompting a solid smack upside the head. Immediately the rogue retreated to figuratively lick his wounds and the hunter flashed him a warning glare.
"But," Matojo let the word hang in the air. "You hurt her? You fuck up? You let someone else fuck up? I'm gonna remove your balls and nail 'em above the mantle at the Animal, got it?"
Dybo nodded.
The pair sat in silence for at least half an hour before Dybo, in celebration, dug out the good tobacco.