Methos stood and stretched his aching back. He had been hard at work since he left his chat with Olympia. After his dinner with Brienne, he had been contemplating a suitable gift to send to her and thanks to Oly, he had the perfect idea. He would send her something pratical, but beautiful. Sticking his head out the door, he called for a house elf.
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Comments 37
After a bit of dithering, though, she ended up attaching the sheathed dagger to her belt and instructed the house elf to tell Methos she was on her way to the Ravenclaw bar. She wanted to thank him in person, but she wasn't willing to be alone in his sleeping chambers either. This seemed like a good compromise.
Thus it was that she found herself waiting on one of the stools at the bar, nursing something called an Irish coffee.
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If she had been anyone else, he would have dropped carelessly onto a nearby stool and proceeded to tease or at least open with a flip remark. He couldn’t with Brienne, though. He didn’t think she was without a sense of humor, but he could sense a rawness in her, a deep hurt that still hadn’t healed. This time, he opted for simple.
“I’m glad you like it,” he said, nodding at the dagger. “I thought it would suit you well.”
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"It does suit me," she said wonderingly, laying a reverent hand on the sheath. "The workmanship is beautiful as well. Thank you!" She hesitated, then asked, "How did you manage to have it commissioned so quickly?" She wasn't even going to think about the expense he'd probably incurred, even in this world where anything, it would seem, could be bought.
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He shook his head, “I didn’t have it commissioned, though. The blade is about three hundred years old. I picked it up while I traveling the Silk Road in Central Asia. A few resourceful house elves found me the tools I needed to clean up the etching and add the design to the scabbard.”
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