#alston

Fírnen blinked and let out a rattled cough of laughter. Across the small courtyard the other children fell silent at the noise before slowly returning to their uneasy murmurings and play. 

“What’s so funny?” Arya wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. They had agreed that for Al’s sake they would communicate both aloud and mentally, trying to get the boy used to their connection as quickly as possible.

You synchronized your bites of food. 

Arya’s eyebrows went up. She turned to Al, who had resorted to staring at his apple with intense focus now that she was no longer eating her sandwich. “Are you copying me, kid?” Al vigorously shook his head, bleached mop of silvered blond hair bouncing. A giggle slipped out, though, and he quickly smacked a hand over his mouth. “Well, you’re doing it wrong! You gotta eat your sandwich if you’re gonna copy me!” Arya grinned and rubbed the boy’s head, sending him wobbling. 

Al frowned and crossed his arms, suddenly red faced. “No! I don’t want my sammich.” 

“Ah, come on. You didn’t eat your sandwich yesterday either. You’re gonna be hungry before dinner.” 

The little boy tightened his arms and suddenly blew an emphatic raspberry. “It’s YUCKY!”

Arya’s concern drifted across to Fírnen. Curious, the dragon tasted the air. The salty, greasy tang that met him was unmistakable. There’s meat in it.

“Meat?” The elf flashed him a questioning glance before looking to the increasingly red-face child. “Hey Al, can I see your sandwich?” Ignoring the boy’s wary glare, Arya reached over and unwrapped the apparently offensive lunch. 

A simple ham and cheese sandwich, bread heavily buttered, greeted her from within the wax paper. “Al, do these sandwiches give you a tummy ache?” Fírnen choked back a snort. Arya’s mental swearing came on hard and fast after letting the words ‘tummy ache’ leave her mouth. No matter how hard she tried to speak to the boy like she would anyone else, sometimes the more childish talk slipped out. “Does it make your stomach hurt?”

Al’s tension eased into wary curiosity. “They make me throw up.” His little face screwed up in discomforted disgust. “Kelly’s stew, too.”

“Does Kelly put meat in her stew?” Al nodded. “Well, that’s okay! You don’t have to eat meat. You know, I get a tummy ache if I eat meat too.” At this, Fírnen failed to suppress his laugh. “Can it, deer breath!”

But Al’s eyes were wide. His arms dropped to his side and he leaned in, ecstatic. “You can’t eat meat?”

Arya shook her head, flicking Fírnen where his claw met his scales as his stifled laughter echoed in her head along with jovial queries about how her ‘tummy’ felt. “Nope. Most elves can’t. You probably can’t because of your Da’s side.” Seeing the rest of the child’s meager lunch, Arya took her own sandwich and ripped it in half. 

“Here.” She held the unbitten portion out to the boy. “This shouldn’t make your stomach hurt. You might not like it though.”

Al took the offered meal and sniffed it, appearing almost squirrel like in his examination. He took a cautious bite and chewed it slowly. 

A smile brightened his face. “Ish good!” Lettuce flew from his mouth at the praise, but it was quickly replaced by another healthy mouthful.

“Don’t talk wif your mouf full.” Arya muttered through her own bite. 

Fírnen was surprised Al didn’t lick his fingers clean once the last bit of the sandwich disappeared into his mouth. “Ari, whadda I do wit my bad sammich?” The boy held it out at arms length, trying to pass it off to the elf.

“Hey, I don’t want it.” Arya pulled back and then glanced at her partner. “Fírnen, you want it?”

I could eat. Delighted at the prospect of a morsel, the dragon opened his mouth. 

“Fírnen would love to have your bad sandwich.” Arya brushed her hands off and jerked a thumb towards Fírnen’s waiting maw. “Be careful of his teeth.”

Al toddled over. “Mister Feenan! Tongue out please!” Fírnen obliged, and was rewarded with the taste of buttered bread a moment later. “‘Kay, hands out!” 

Fírnen slowly retracted his tongue before finally closing his mouth with a click of teeth. Thank you, little ears.

“He says thanks, kiddo.”