Out of Context

Defender
Robert J. Crane

Cyrus had run up the stairs and into his room, only to come to a sudden stop. His leg hit the side of the bed — not his old, regular sized one; it was gone, replaced by another made from the bones of Kalam, the ones he’d seen Terian and the others carrying away on the day o fthe Alliance call to arms. It had been framed with four enormous elephant tusks as the posts, and took up most of the quarters. It was big enough that three trolls could comfortably lie in it, and had been crafted beautifully. There was a small note lying on the sheets, which he picked up and read.

Cy,

You should always celebrate your triumphs and keep something around to remind you that when things are bad, they weren’t always bad. I’d feed you a line about how although I’m gone, I’ll always be in your heart, but we both know that’s all a bunch of crap that girly elves and pansy-ass dwarves would say to each other to keep from crying. Here’s a bed: use it a lot, and not just for sleeping if you can find a woman who won’t run screaming from you — gold might need to be involved. You’re a hell of a warrior, but I’m a way better fighter. I’ll see you around the world.

— Terian