A bit of lovely silliness written by the amazing autumnyte
Fenris carefully set down the tray of food, and took a seat at the rickety wooden bench beside his table. He leaned down to allow his tiny companion to climb out of his breastplate and hop onto the table.
For a moment, Fenris shut his eyes and rubbed his temples. He hadn’t had a drop of wine in two days, proving that this was no drunken hallucination. Either he had gone mad, or this little creature—who was, by all appearances, an exact double of Quinntus Hawke, only miniature in form—truly existed.
The elf was temporarily distracted from his worries when the tiny Quinntus began gesturing at the food, patting his stomach with one hand and making demanding, huffing noises that were nearly inaudible, but were unmistakable in their meaning.
“Ah, it seems you are hungry,” Fenris murmured, placing miniscule hunks of apple and cheese in front of his small friend, along with a thimble full of water. “Evidently, you share many traits with Quinntus, including his sizeable appetite. Eating with you… I find it is almost like eating with Hawke himself. Minus the conversation, of course.”
He was certain he must be imagining things, but Fenris could have sworn he saw the miniature Quinntus blush and smile with pride at the remark. He shrugged off the absurd notion. They ate in peaceable silence for several long moments, with mini-Hawke gnawing through his portion of food at what Fenris considered to be an alarming rate. Would his new friend’s appetite exceed his budget? He rather hoped not. He found he was becoming accustomed… perhaps even attached to having the creature around.
The agreeable calm between them came to a halt when Fenris plucked the last honeyed fig from his plate and began lifting it toward his mouth. His small, red-headed friend began jumping up and down, pouting, and pointing at the fig.
“You… wish to have my last fig?” Fenris said, letting the dripping fruit hover in front of his lips. “But… these are my favorite. And besides, it is almost as large as you are.”
Small Quinntus gave a single nod and folded his arms, staring at the fig, still pouting. Fenris sighed and put the morsel down, slicing off a portion and passing it down the table in offering. If it was within his power, there was nothing he would not do for Quinntus. Apparently, that applied even to this miniature version.
He watched as tiny Quinn gobbled it up, a trickle of honey dribbling down that tiny chin, covering tiny stubble and tiny tattoos. Fenris caught himself smiling like a fool. He suspected it would not be the last time.