The Rest Stop - An Adventurer Story

The man moved slowly, nursing a limp and the bandage around his left arm was showing the first blossom of red through it. The stretch of highway he found himself on was long abandoned, a relic from a heyday that was already gathering dust by the time his parents had been born. Grass grew along the shoulder, wetting the bottom of his pants with dew as he trudged along. The highway itself offered no easy path, as its surface was long cracked and tilted, with green pressing up through in a neverending effort to reclaim lands once tamed by man. The man shivered lightly, his torn shirt and jeans barely enough to keep him warm as the sun sunk below the treeline and nothing in his backpack that would offer much more protection. 



Thankfully, this stretch of what used to be northern California stayed relatively warm and dry this time of year. While the interstates thrummed with the roar of the engines of commerce, these back highways still saw traffic as bootleggers, bandits, roamers, and others stuck to them, largely forgotten souls much like the highway they traveled. It was highways like this that the man preferred. The interstates and the trappings of the modern world had a flair and a flavor to it that sat wrong with him, a hollowness and a hunger that never tired of consuming but never seemed to leave anyone satisfied. It also lacked a space for anything it couldn’t quickly explain, package, and market, and nothing the man found interesting in life was easily or quickly explained, fit neatly into any sort of packing, and there may be a market for it, but none that the man wanted to get involved in.  

But walking along these old highways, ghosts of a bygone era and traveled by the shadows of the modern world, carried risks. A man alone was seen as easy pickings, by beings who at best may pick your pocket, at middling might take your life, and at worst may take a liking to your soul. The man had faced and survived all three, through a combination of preparation, skill, wit, and charm. And luck, more than he’d ever care to admit, and today that luck had turned on him. See, the problem with ever relying on luck is that the dice have no memory, and a lucky stroke one day might immediately be followed by a bolt from the blue the next. The man had been walking along the highway, whistling a juanty tune he’d picked up from his last traveling companion, a leprechaun who played a mean game of dice and never found a moment that didn’t deserve a song. The man had been enjoying his day when something had materialized along the highway, sped a short distance, clipped him hard on the left side, and sent him spinning into the long grass to the side. He caught a glimpse of what looked like a Conestoga wagon before a loud “Eyup!” echoed across the stretch of highway and the wagon vanished again. To pained to be puzzled, the man had patted himself down to see how bad the injuries were and, once nothing seemed too bad, bandaging up and getting back on the road. He wasn’t far from the small township he’d been working his way towards, but the soreness in his leg made the prospect of a couple days walk seem less than appealing. He hoped that when he made camp, he’d be able to coax a bit of healing out of his charms to ease things. Charm magic was handy, as it let a non-magical like himself use the arts. But it was fickle as a candle in the wind, dependent heavily on local ambient magic levels and the skill of the charm crafter. The man had some very well-crafted charms, but that was no guarantee of success in using them.  

Around the bend and a bit along the highway he found what looked like an old rest area, overgrown and weed-choked. The old restrooms building had collapsed, but there were numerous covered areas remaining. The man looked around and found numerous markings and sigils denoting safe haven, clean waters, and neutral grounds, all written in a pigeon of road slang, old magicks, and drifter code. Under one of the covered areas he found the remains of an old fire pit, and quickly set about putting up camp. Once the fire was crackling nicely and he’d pulled some clean water from the nearby still-functioning pump, he lowered himself down cross-legged and pulled the healing charm, a worked copper and silver disc of intricate knotwork leading to the traditional hands clasping a heart and crown of the claddaigh, from under his shirt, where it hung loosely on a silver chain. It had been a gift from...someone who he preferred not thinking about, but it was one of the finest crafted he’d ever seen. He let it hang over his shirt and pulled out his ear-buds from his pocket. He found listening to music helped him focus, and focus is what triggered charms. The gentle sounds of music flooded his ears and he let his mind go loose, focusing on the charm without letting his mind craft conscious thoughts or letting intrusive thoughts storm in. It had taken years of practice to be able to focus a cleared mind, but he’d been a good student and had been blessed with good teachers.  

The charm began to glow from within, a cool pale blue light that seemed to start somewhere deep within it and press out through the skin of the discs material. Almost immediately the man felt better and he could feel the subtle itch of mending flesh and bruised tissue flushing itself. He kept himself deep in meditation as song after song played through his earbuds. As the tingle and itch of mending faded away to nothing, the man brought himself slowly back to the present and opened his eyes. He was long practiced at this, which is why when he saw the diminutive fae sitting by his fire, watching him with a half-smile, he didn’t immediately panic.  

“Hope I’m not intruding. The fire was inviting and I only sought to ask if you’d welcome some company.” The fae voiced. They were maybe about five foot, slender built and neither masculine or feminine. Their hair was long and auburn, worn in intricate plaits that hung back behind their shoulder. They wore a mix of human and other fashion, black leggings that vanished under a ancient looking kilt wrap, with a white linen button down shirt tucked into it, overlayed with a leather vest. The fae wore no jewelry or other accessories, which was odd as fae tend to love and collect little treasures they can carry with them everywhere.  
“I happily honor the status of this neutral ground and consider the fire neither mine to give or yours to take, and I would gladly welcome companionship freely given by its light.” The man replied. The fae had a very specific set of etiquette about giving and receiving, and the man had spent a long time learning its intricacies. The fae seemed to relax, seemingly pleased by the response. Many fae struggled with interacting with humans due to their sense of etiquette, which often lead to misunderstandings and hard feelings.  
“Then companionship will be given, in exchange for its reciprocation. And may the exchange bring us both comfort and amusement this evening.” The fae smiled, and reached behind themselves into a small haversack. They produced a jug that sloshed and a wheel of cheese wrapped in a cloth. These were laid in front of the fae, who looked at the man with a smile and slightly cocked eyebrow. The man reached into his own backpack and produced a sealed plastic container of berries and a couple fresh apples and laid them in front of himself. The fae looked them over and nodded, shifting the cheese and jug to a point more central between them. The man did the same.  
“I am Siskini, formerly of the road tribe and I thank you for sharing this meal with me.” Siskini touched their fingers to their lips and then their forehead.  

“Well met, Siskini, formerly of the road tribe. I am Hand, of no tribe. And I thank you in return for sharing this meal with me.” He lifted his fingers to his lips, then his forehead, then swept them away in a more formal sign of respect. Siskini’s eyes lit up “You know the proper forms! It’s been too long since I've seen them done with the respect they are due.” And, with that, they set to cutting and sharing the food between them. The jug proved to be filled with a fruit wine, and as the fire burned lower and the jug grew emptier, Hand found himself sitting shoulder to shoulder with Siskini, talking of all manner of topics. 

Siskini had been a scout, roaming the roads and mapping them for their people, battling bandits and keeping the peace where necessary. They had worked with a partner, and had spent many years by their side. Siskini grew quiet. “Then, one day, they road took my partner from me. We were clever, we were fast, and we were fierce, but that day the world proved to be more. I lost them, and where they fell is marked by all of the treasures I carried.” Siskini lowered their head and closed their eyes. Hand felt his eyes grow misty. He put his arm around the fae’s shoulder, and felt them lean into them, their head resting against his shoulder. He held them for a while, in a comfortable quiet. As the fire crackled and bathed them in warmth, and hand felt the wine cast a flush across his skin, he suddenly noticed how lovely siskini smelled. Like exotic oil, and dried fruits, and summer sun, with an unmistakable undercurrent that must be them. Unthinking, he found himself turning his head and breathing deep the scent of their hair, then catching himself and turning away, blushing.  
Siskini lifted their head, looking up at Hand. “You blush, but haven’t you noticed I’ve been breathing deeply of you as well?” Siskini’s hand raised and cupped hands cheek. “Grant me leave to give and take without account, in this moment, by this firelight?” The words were so small, so light, that Hand nearly missed them. He paused only a second, recognizing the risk in granting such leave to a member of the fae, but also feeling his heart responding to something in Siskini’s voice. “Granted, with no reserve, save that you stay with me till the sun rises.” Siskini nodded, and leaned into a kiss. Their lips were delicate, but firm, and hand found himself melting into it. As fingers ran through hair, and their kisses grew more hungry, the fire burned lower and, soon, two shadows become one, and the rest area grew alive with the sounds of bliss, and joy, hunger, and satisfaction.  



Before the sun broke the horizon, Hand found himself laying on his bedroll, Siskini nestled against his chest. Their smooth tan-gold skin a sharp contrast to his weathered brown tan. They slept, a slight smile still on their lips. Hand gently brushed his fingers through the loose strands of their hair, escapees from the woven plaits siskini wore. They stirred, but just to nestle closer and hook their leg over Hands leg, pulling themselves closer. He could feel the smooth muscles of their chest against his stomach, their breath and heartbeat a wonderful rhythm to close his eyes and be lost in for a bit. AHnd felt Siskini stir. 
“You are beautiful, Hand of no tribe.” and they shifted up to press a kiss into the side of his neck.  
“and you are radiant, Siskini, formerly of the road tribe.” And he turned his head to press a kiss to Siskini’s lips. They pulled each other close again, and greeted the morning in the throes of passion.  

Later, as they dressed and restoked the fire, Hand made a decision. He pulled the healing charm from around his neck. It was a powerful charm, but it was also a symbol of friendship, love, and loyalty. It rung true to him that as Siskini had appeared as he used the charm, there was a rightness to what he was about to do. “Siskini, I wish to ask and offer.” Siskini was looking away, their back to Hand. He saw them tense, then turn. “What would you ask, and what do you offer.” Siskini’s voice seemed flatter, resigned to the old forms of exchange. 
“I’d ask that we cross paths again, and share a fire and a night where I can listen to your tales and share my own, that I can enjoy your company again till the sun rises.” hand voiced. 
“and, I offer in exchange this charm. Its magics heal and protect, and its symbolism speaks from the heart. What say you to this ask and offer?” 
Siskini’s face split in a grin. “I accept, happily. May this charm mark a new start for Siskini and I eagerly look forward to the next fire we share, Hand of no tribe.” and with that, they approached and placed their hands on each side of Hand’s face, and pressed a long kiss to his lips. When they parted, hand slipped the copper and silver disc, on it’s fine silver chain, over Siskini’s head.