|
Fléin emerged, or so it seemed to the baffled orc, from nowhere. In one hand, at arm's length, he held a net with something large and round within. In the other arm, shoved against his chest and pressed to his body as well as held in his hands, was... gold. Lots of gold. The orc felt something wet splat on his foot, only to find that he had started drooling.
"Oi, you sod! Get over here!" the Dwarf bellowed across the field at him. All the birds around the park took off in fright, and the bandy-legged little creature snuffled across the grass to him. He noticed that the round thing-in-the-bag had started wriggling around at the noise, and approached with not a little apprehension.
"Carry all this, will you?" Fléin shouted at him over the twittering of Sparrow, and dropped all the gold on the ground. "And don't try and steal any... I've counted it all up.
The orc took possession of the gold - in the form of sceptres, crowns and necklaces, mostly - while Fléin bashed the Sparrow on the head to render it unconscious once more, shutting it up. He could feel the orc's curiosity, but decided to ignore it in the hope that the orc would know better than to disturb him.
"What'th that thpar-"
"WHY?"
"What?"
"Why, why, my orc, do you insist on bantering?" The Dwarf shook his head so ferociously that Sparrow woke up again, and added his twittering to Fléin's frustration, forcing him to shout. "Why must you speak? Just act. Your purpose is not to speak."
He threw a disgusted look at the orc, who duly started picking up the gold, and then turned it to the squeaky Sparrow. "And if you don't shut up, Jack, I'll bash your head it and spit roast you. Bringing you back alive wasn't part of my contract." The bird too shut up, and Fléin suddenly felt a lot happier.
Five hours later (he had had to wait for a bus, after all) he was back at the resort, a bird in the hand, and showing it to Anakron.
|