Chapter 122: Destiny Brought Us Together
"I have to correct you. I wasn't drawn by your skewer. I just sensed an unfamiliar presence and came to investigate, and that's when I found you."
"Is that so?" Rhodes said, trying his best not to laugh. "Then I should be even more grateful to the mushroom skewer. After all, without it, I can't think of any other way to get close to you."
"If you really want to show your gratitude, you should just build a statue of it."
It was a sarcastic retort, but to her surprise, he seemed to be seriously considering it. "You have a point."
"Wait, you're not really going to build a statue of a mushroom skewer, are you? That would be too strange!" She had seen statues of gods and heroes, but never of food. What would future generations think? The legendary god-slayer, Rhodes, met his dearest friend, Serie, over a mushroom skewer. It was just too weird.
"No, not just a mushroom skewer," he said, a cunning glint in his eye, and stroked his chin, as if hatching a plan. "I'm thinking of a statue called 'Fated Encounter'."
He gestured with his hands, his tone so serious that she wasn't sure if he was joking. "An elven miss, sitting on a branch, looking down her nose at the human below, and that clueless fellow is offering her a mushroom skewer."
Serie paused for a second, then quickly retorted, "I wasn't sitting on a branch. And are you serious?"
"Of course," he said with a grin. "It's a historical moment. It deserves to be commemorated."
She pressed a hand to her forehead with a sigh. "You might as well just build a statue of yourself and carve an inscription below it: 'The legendary hero, Rhodes, who once tricked an elf into becoming his companion with a mushroom skewer'."
He looked at her, at her brow still furrowed as she chewed on a piece of burnt rabbit meat, and let out a low chuckle. "I wouldn't call it 'tricking'. That elven miss came with me willingly."
She continued to gnaw on the tough piece of meat and gave him a look. "Say what you want. I will never admit that I was drawn by your mushroom skewer." Even if she were to starve to death, she would never let it be known that he had lured her out of the Great Elven Forest with a piece of food. It was his talent for magic that had drawn her, his talent that had made her agree to go on this adventure with him.
"Alright, alright, whatever you say," he said with a smile. "But when I do build that statue, don't you go sneaking a look at it."
Her movements paused, and she quickly retorted, "Who would do such a thing!" But for some reason, the image of it popped into her head, and she thought that if such a statue really did exist, she might... just might... not be able to resist taking a peek.
She took another bite of the skewer. It was still terrible, like chewing on a certain detestable person.
Seeing her trying to be tough, he smiled even wider.
He decided not to tease her any further and took a few wild berries from his pack. "Here. I just picked them. At least these aren't burnt."
The further they got from the Godfall Land, the more the environment returned to normal, and he had found these berries on a cliffside.
She took one and bit into it, the sweet juice bursting in her mouth. She looked at him, across the fire. It was just like before. He was always offering her a piece of fruit. Even now.
"Actually..." she began, her voice soft, "...even without the mushroom skewer, we probably would have still met."
He looked up at her, a question in his eyes. She didn't explain, just took another bite of the berry, the feelings in her heart as sweet and complex as the taste in her mouth. Because destiny, she now realized, had a way of bringing people together.
The sun was bright, and a thin mist still lingered in the forest. Rhodes and Serie were once again on the road.
She walked ahead, her steps light, her golden hair swaying with her movements. Unlike before, when they had been constantly ambushed by magical beasts, their journey was now a peaceful one.
Suddenly, a familiar warmth enveloped her left hand. She didn't have to look to know who it was.
"The path ahead is a little slippery," he said with a laugh, his hand, which was now behaving very badly, quite naturally enclosing her own. "And if you were to fall, your dearest friend would be heartbroken."
She stopped and looked down at their clasped hands. This was the third time he had done it today. The first was when they had been crossing a stream, and he had shamelessly claimed he was afraid the current would sweep her away. The second was when they had been passing through a field of flowers that had a hallucinogenic effect. Even though she had already dispelled the magic, he had still taken her hand, claiming he was afraid she would fall into a trance. Each of his excuses was as full of holes as his burnt rabbit meat.
She turned her head slightly and looked at him with a scrutinizing gaze. "Rhodes, is this a custom from your homeland?"
"Yes," he said with a blink, and explained in a perfectly serious tone, "In my homeland, dearest friends always hold hands when they walk."
"And in your homeland," she said, giving their clasped hands a little shake, "do dearest friends really have to maintain physical contact at all times? Especially when there's no danger?"
His expression did not change. "Of course! It is the highest form of expressing our deep friendship, our mutual trust and support. Don't you trust me, Serie?"
She frowned. Her elven intuition was telling her that he was lying, but she couldn't find a reason to refute him. "Even between dearest friends of the same sex?" she asked tentatively.
"Yes. For example, two girls who are good friends will also walk hand-in-hand."
As he spoke, he squeezed her hand, as if to strengthen his point.
"And two men?"
"Of course," he said, not even blushing.
She pictured two men, holding hands, strolling down a street, and a strange look crossed her face. This was far beyond the elven understanding of 'friendship'.
(End of chapter)
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