Bits & Snatches: So This is the Stuff of Legend

The results of semi-industrious writing during the month of May...in which my poor main character gets stuffed into yet another tiny space. Enjoy!

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“Well, to be perfectly honest, ‘twas your cooking. I pictured to myself the long days of slow starvation. The burnt eggs, the flapjacks, the general blackness of it all.”

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[He] was handsome in an ordinary way, with features that were good, but not remarkable. He was small and slight, with hazel eyes and long-fingered hands that were both in constant, restless motion; an entirely forgettable man who seemed slightly anxious not to be forgotten.

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“So this is the stuff of legend.” The man commented.

Thatch shifted a non-committal shoulder. “More or less.”

--

“So we stay with the plan?” I frowned, remembering how sternly Thatch had insisted that I let him do all the talking, at least at first.

He shrugged. “Let’s just hope that our enemy’s enemy actually is our friend. And, yes, I see no reason to alter the plan...especially that part.” He studied my unsatisfied face, grinning slightly. “You and your temper could probably make a hash out of any negotiation.”

And you, of course, are the epitome of tact and charm.

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I thought back to when I’d entered Vayde by water. “I’m certain there’ll be guards at the water gate.” I said.

“Sure there will be. But this man has a smuggler’s craft.”

“What’s so special about it?”

“A hold, hidden beneath the cabin. ‘Tis small, of course. Has to be, or someone’d notice that the draft was wrong, but a man can do well for himself if he fills such a space with the right kind of goods.”

“And I suppose I’ll be the goods, this time around?”

“That’s the idea. ‘Twill be cramped, but you might take it as a mercy, in the end. This boatman could chat your ear off, given half the chance.”

--

My ear caught the approach of footsteps. “And may Heaven help us both.”

I thought, but could not be sure, that Thatch voiced a soft but fervent "Amen."