Dwarven Hair Customs

dwarven hair customs

Behind the Bar

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Kenna (Herbalist OC)

Words: 4,249

Ratings: Teen/Up Audience

Warnings: none

A/N:    An interlude for two unlikely, fast friends over a bar chat… about perceptions, monsters, and the magic a simple act of kindness can have in their grey world. This is a one-shot set a little time after the start of my upcoming fic, A Stroke of Luck; enjoy~

Summary:   A calm, predictable routine had settled between the Witcher and Dandelion’s new, darling addition to his masterplan; a comfortable, easy end to the day– with Kenna as his company. The two were no longer acquaintances after shared meals, close calls on the road, exchanging goods, and crossing paths at several turns that one could only perceive as fated meetings. After a day of earning her own keep at the local spot where Dandelion has posted up in the city, Kenna steps in to defend Geralt for what he’s due– something he’s clearly never experienced in such a charming way. 

Normally, knights are the noble ones in the city; not herbalists with a mind for money and deduction skills. 

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A red tethered topknot collected most of Kenna’s sweat from the stockpot. On hot days like this, brewing outside is not only a necessity, but a mercy. 

Her celandine seeds currently roasting over the flame are potent in a moderate amount, but with the steamy heat of summer driving everyone in Velen to the nearest river, Kenna knew trying to cook off copious amounts of pollen in a small kitchen would cause headaches galore– a migraine just waiting to happen. Still, catching a breath herself was a sacrifice she was willing to make for the sake of this batch.

"Twenty minutes," Kenna rasped to herself- wistfully catching sight of the still wind chime at the far corner of the patio. No breeze today. "Maybe thirty. Then a much needed cool down..."

Kenna brushed off the polleny barbs on a dirt rag, and took a swig from her canteen. She counted the horses filling up the stable overhang across the way, brows flicking up at the sight of a familiar dun.

"Roach~"

The mare turned head and gave a quick, barreling whinny. Kenna ducked under the tarped shelter and through the walkway to scratch the Witcher's much-loved steed across the blaze of her snout. She found the sweet spot under the horse's bangs easily, relishing in the fluttery burrs coming from deep in her barded chest.

"Like that, don't you..." Kenna hummed down to Roach’s head nuzzling straight against her stomach. "Glad to see you too. Wonder what your friend's gotten up to, hm baby? Is he inside?"

Roach couldn't give an answer, but Kenna engaged the conversation anyway.

"Yeah, I should go say hi. Maybe bring a little treat to a special someone after, huh?" Kenna cooed, and earned another agreeable burr. Seemed the ashen-colored mare next to Roach shared the sentiment. With a final scratch, Kenna doubled back inside the back door, shedding the potholders strung to her wrists and making her way to the bar.

Slipping past a few of the entertaining girls for the night with a welcoming smile, Kenna joined Dandelion’s side by the peddler’s table as he looked on. Activity near the front door had his attention with strong degree of disapproval.

"Uh-oh. That's a look.” Kenna murmured over his shoulder, not making it look obvious that she was looking, too. “What's going on?"

"Mmmm. I think someone’s trying to stiff Geralt." Dandelion sniffed haughtily. "That lout’s been floundering ever since he got the full story of the contract he lent out. Job's done- he better pay him." Dandelion spoke with conviction, but with an aire of a joke. "Or else I might just sing ‘The Song’ as loud as I can manage."

"Geralt said he doesn't like it."

"I don't care if he doesn't like it- it's the principle!" Dandelion soured. "Ts'why I put the line right in there!" He seemed certainly proud of his creative stroke, but moseyed on over to his band’s half circle to try and break from his foul mood and give his impatience time to cool off.

Looking back, Kenna sorted herself around the counter, treading close to the end where Geralt wore a flat scowl of his own. His hair partly wisped about by a likely rushed scuffle, it stuck behind his ear a little haphazardly on one side, and only proved the dangerous risks and efforts of his line of work. 

Catching herself from staring too much, she did fall in line and familiarize herself with the current state of coin and orders coming in. It wasn’t her night to tend the dining pots, but she was always agreeable to help Marge out when things picked up around this hour. Some slips were for standing tabs, meals to-go, and for the brews currently being concocted outside on her burner as quick medicines. On the stake beside the coinbox sat the paid out tabs, half-crumpled; she saw a regular’s- Corrull, from up the high street- had just paid out. To her surprise, he was the one Geralt was talking to by the door. 

Kenna picked out his higher pitched voice rushing out a pleading laugh to break the tension. Back still turned to her, Geralt crossed his arms and leaned onto one heavy-set foot.

"Please, I've had bit’of business since Hump day, Witcher; you know how these things go! I gotta keep up. There's been costs, and doctors calls- my youngest girl's been tied in knots over this whole housing mess.. been mislaid for almost a week now from the stress."

"This isn't what we agreed to."

"Have a heart, man- damn godlings are a mess- not tryna snuff you, or nothing, but twenty coin really gonna put you out that much? It's a good thing ya done- you have my thanks, honest-"

"Grateful conscience or not. Still won’t buy me dinner." Geralt managed levely.

Kenna's brow furrowed and her chin upticked- Dande was right.

Corrull went on about his recent laundry list of expenses before Kenna's feet moved on their own and came from the bar to their space with a confident air in her shoulders, messing with her hand towel just casually enough to show authority as part of Marge’s staff.

"Everything ok here, gentlemen?" Kenna eyed them both, more focus landing on Geralt’s noncompliant company.

"Kenna, love!" Corrull visibly waffled, "Just settling up with a posting, no trouble here."

Geralt wasn't impressed, glaring daggers into the man's temple and rolling off to the side, not quite meeting her eye back.

Kenna kept aloof and light. "That so?"

Geralt groused, "Wouldn't say that." 

Geralt's tone kept sound but the edge on the last beat ruffled Corrull ever so much, even in a bystander's presence. Kenna looked back to Corrull for a clearer answer than his nervous chuff of laughter.

"Just hard to uh-- settle up when your pot's empty, ya know miss? Just paid off my tab, you can check! I'm good for it, Witcher!" He claimed, posture jumpy. Geralt soured even more.

Kenna's brow lifted, her proof coming to mind.

"True enough, he sure did," Kenna lilted, stepping back to the bar. With a quick blind grab, she flipped up the spoked slip of paper. "Amount of- oh look here.. twenty pieces. Got the Friday special, I see. Someone was feeling indulgent."

Geralt eyed her back more calm than before, with a curious sort of furrow to his brow. Beside him, he glanced in his peripheral as the man's throat bobbed. Guilty as sin.

"Tell you boys what," Kenna slipped comfortably onto the low tabletop to address them, slipping the sheet to Corrull, "How's about you take this, my friend... And we'll settle that up when you're not in such a tight spot. Got a week's due date, after all- says so on the door."

She referenced the casual plaque above his very head with a pointed nod, and while both looked up dumbly to it, she rustled up the increments of five gold pieces to the total of twenty.

"And this-- can be used to pay the Witcher what he's owed." 

Stance calm and collected, Kenna kept her tone equally sweet, but with a careful look that meant this was more than a suggestion aimed straight at the portly man.

Geralt unfurled his arms to keep casual rest on the hilt of his shortsword, looking far less threatening, but solemn to a fault.

Swallowing against a flare of pride, the man nodded all too quickly,

"Mmm-- agreeable. Fair enough. Call it done, Master Witcher?"

With the same severe look that wasn't to be messed with earlier, Geralt shrugged off with a dismissive wave.

"Fine by me."

"Good deal!" Kenna brightened with a knowing smile. "Then you'll take this..." 

Corrull came to claim the tab and drop off the remaining bag of coins beside the stack on the counter, before she offered, 

"And-- a quick word I hear, from a wise man?"

"Yesm, Ma'am?"

Her voice dropped a fraction in volume.

"Pay your debts, in the order in which they're received. Just good business."

Message delivered; Corrull’s subdued nod was prompt indication. Satisfied by the small sweaty blink away of nerves he showed, Kenna patted the coin bag and carried on wiping out a still drying cup within reach- as casual an act as always.

"Lovely," she perked up again, "do enjoy your night, barber. We'll see you back to settle that one up- whenever's convenient for you."

"Course, ma'am.... Witcher, my regards."

"Hm." Geralt nodded briefly. 

And Corrull slipped out of the Rusted Arrow's well worn door with a shake of the head and a jerky rake of his hair, making off not unlike a dog with his tail between his legs.

Slipping off the counter's edge to a less precarious posture, Kenna huffed at the obvious poor planning and shitty business sense of the patron. As thankful as she was for regulars, that display wouldn't endear the Barbersons to her for a while. 

Back to Geralt, the Witcher pocketed the bag before shedding his swords off under the counter edge and took a seat.

Kenna rallied a cleansing breath, catching Geralt's eye and giving a sympathetic little smile. All previous ‘peddler’s appeal’ voice gone, she dropped to her more natural, unfussy tone.

"Hey there, stranger."

"Hey," Geralt smirked back lifelessly. "Thanks for that."

Clearly he wasn't all too pleased.

"...Does that happen often?"

Geralt dismissed with a curt shake, "Few and far between."

Kenna hummed, content enough for the rarity of such stinginess of people. Witchers took on the strangest and deadliest of occupations, in her eyes... Managing payment for those services seemed a given, especially the more desperate the man was to get a witcher's help.

Refreshing her tucked hair back, Kenna shook off her abrupt wave of justice. Geralt spoke up again, so she recentered to listen- though wilted at the same time, noticing his head cocked down a bit staring off at the bar too absently.

"Iron's gone up in the last month. Everything's more costly. Arrowheads, sinker lines, horseshoes even..." He huffed dully. "This kind of job will barely cover my regular list–thanks-" He acknowledged her pour of some ale with a sip. After a thin lipped swallow, Geralt eyed Kenna with a resolute firmness of his brow. "I don't mean to sound cold over a bit of short change. But twenty coin's twenty coin. The rest is pretty much spoken for."

Kenna scoffed lightly with an ease of her brow.

"You don't owe me a single explanation- not to anyone, Geralt. You earn what you earn- and you should get every bit of it. It's only right."

"Still," he drawled, giving a small nod. "All I mean is every bit counts, wasn't meant to be greedy. Witchers get enough shit as it is."

"You said that last time," Kenna frowned thinking back to his visit at the start of the month. 

"Kinda nice tho... Having someone stick up for a Witcher for once. That's a rare sight."

Geralt was looking off through the window’s condensation, so he missed Kenna’s wry little smile. A thank you, in his own way.

"So I literally scored you dinner with my little stunt, huh?" She hinted.

"Sure did." He looked back, visibly more relaxed.

Kenna couldn't stifle the pride blooming in her chest again. They say good deeds don't go unpunished, but she couldn't see a downside when the timing was so perfect.

"Well don't worry- it's not a favor you gotta return when it's over your hard earned money." She tapped the counter, working her jaw casually, eyeing him up amicably. "Dinner’s up to you now; what'll it be? Same special as Jackass out there, orrrr we have a good bit of chicken, greens, Redwood rarebit- and if I remember right, bread from this morning? I think it's still good."

"You pick. Sounds good."

Hyperverbal as always. 

This Witcher... days like his, stretching on to the night, where a meal is hit or miss... Been a long day, Kenna imagined, so she decided to cut him slack.

"Alright, Mr. Chatty," Kenna dropped the hostess' airs, and settled into her routine. "One bread or two?"

"Mm," he hummed. "How much'll that get me?"

Kenna paused. He's dead serious.

"Two," she decided, with a smile.

"Might as well."

Navigating the stovetop was fast paced with three girls working tonight, so Kenna was able to slide in and out with minimal invasion. Sweet girls- this was their first job for two of them; trying so hard to please and make a few extra tips. Kenna was simply glad for the exclusive backdoor access to the outside fireplace, and left the interior fires for the staff to have as much space to manage mealtimes as possible. Paired with the visiting bard, she wasn’t necessarily in this job for the money- more for the company, “in” with the local herbalists, and here to manage Dandie’s books while he wooed the populace. Didn’t hurt to make a few friends along the way- or treat them to a kinder night of conversation than what they were typically dealt…

"You're quick."

Geralt was studying her even before she dropped off a couple plates to his spot. The sole attention might have scared any of the other girls, Kenna thought. But under Geralt’s eye- that almost rang a compliment.

"I’m not exactly a field track star, Geralt. I hate running." She teased with an eye roll. Sidestepping around the bustle wasn't a task to be taken slowly.

"Quick at reading people," Geralt stated as his correction, "Reading a room. Diffusing situations."

"Working with all the hotheads in here?” Kenna mused, “You pick it up after a while if you don't wanna go mad. And I’ve worked in quite a few spots like this one."

"You know what I mean. C'mon."

Kenna shook her head- not following.

Geralt worked through a bite before asking, "How do you manage it?"

"... Stopping barfights, or not losing my patience?"

"Understanding people." he asked with a careful eye.

Well, this is chattier.

"Well,” Kenna started, “I like people- shocker."

Geralt gave a conceding look and kept eating.

"All kinds. And that's... -not a popular opinion. People find anything to fight about nowadays. Dwarves, elves- witchers; don't have to explain that one."

Geralt's wariness softened.

"I guess the more I've moved, the more I’ve listened.. People are complex, no matter where they come from. We have…” she paused to collect stray thoughts together and blew some air through thought, “These ideas of what we should be, what we wanna be, and what we are. And if I look hard enough- I start to 'get' it, myself. I can hear it in their stories. There’s things people say- and things they don't say. Both are telling."

"And I dunno." Kenna stepped back towards the back counter, arms lax but bracing herself upwards. "Everyone's got a story. Maybe if we all listened a bit, we'd understand each other better. Not get so wrapped up in this political mess, greed, vendettas and actually put that energy towards something better. Better for all of us.." 

She waved humorlessly to him; the gesture was received with a smirk.

"I may not be a huge part of the solution in my tiny little corner of the world.... But I just don't wanna be part of the problem. It pays to listen in."

Geralt blinked, a thought passing through, fleeting. 

"Life's too short, y'know?" Kenna spun to the positive. "Might as well make the ride easy for folks while I'm here. Do some good. It's in rare form, like you saw tonight. That's why I try my hardest to 'herd the cats'; it works to calm me down at least." She sullied as the barber’s interaction seeped back in. 

The cat-eyes focused, a question behind them and his brow lifted.

"You think it's naive-- I can see it on your face."

"Difference between optimism and being naive.” Geralt answered, “You're not naive."

"Well, thanks." She wiped a cup, not convinced at his still-inquisitive gaze.

"... I think you're what the world needs."

Kenna blanked out, staring back. He offered a little, thin lipped smile- barely there. Then took another drink.

"... Wow." Kenna managed out of her confusion. "Here I thought I was talking your ear off."

"No,” he wiped a bit of juice between his thumb and forefinger. “You just made me think."

"About what?"

"Couple things," he rose and joined her behind the bar, sitting with his back to the room-- across from her, her equal.

Squared up, she sipped from her canteen in new company.

"What are you thinking about?"

"These spectres. Ghouls. Settling into houses around this area; they’re often tortured. Beings that  were never properly laid to rest when they met their end. It makes sense to know why they breed suffering and wrath on everything, because they never got the chance to feel it themselves. Just as they're misunderstood in life- they also are in death. They're trapped in the mortal plane, and can do real harm in the moments between real and unreal."

Kenna was surprised at the tangent. Still, he was sharing. This had to be fairly rare too. 

"Huh."

"The job–one I just did,” he rolled back his shoulders, “The spirit was that of a child who was feeding on the collective dreams of the owners of the wellerman’s house from nearly a decade ago. His parents. Kid died young, but was hardly mourned because he was some sickly thing- seen as a burden on the family. The family moved on to bear more children, seemingly much happier. But so much hatred and scorn drove the child's spirit to madness in the last days of life- and so, he haunted them in death, until they went mad and passed with equal unrest. Arguably before their time."

"Woah."

"Coursem now,” Geralt nodded on, “You'd think justice was done- the nightwraith would be content with handfuls of residents coming in and out of that home. But he wasn't sated. Bitterness rots. Destroys you. Lingers– it's a slow thing, that only hurts:"

"-yourself." Kenna reasoned along with him, "And that even happens to undead creatures like that?"

"It's how they thrive. You don't know any different way to survive when you're in a plane of your own."

It sounded lonely, in the worst sense.

Geralt mused with the storytelling genius of all those cautionary tales she’d been reared on, 

"He fed on what he believed was real-- but it wasn't. Wraiths can feel the living- but not hear and really see. So with new residents, he transferred leaching from one source to another, thinking his family was still alive after years of roaming alone. Full of misplaced hatred and nowhere to put his grief."

"So he was going to kill the barbersons, too?" Kenna worried a bit.

"Bit by bit from madness- sure."

"So... What did you do?"

"Laid him to rest. With his family, where he belonged all along." Geralt’s eyes flickered to the nearer of the two swords- the silver blade.

"That’s-- wow." And the more she thought... "...And you get only three hundred coins for all that?!"

Geralt snickered lightly, 

"Three hundred was generous. I've handled worse for less. This was a selfish child whittled away by an illness that took him from his family. Imagine a woman scorned by a lover, demanding eternal restitution."

"Oooo, that's messy." Kenna winced.

"I'd take on a hungry grottore anyday."

Kenna gawked flatly. Those things are terrifying. 

But Geralt reached back for his stein,

"I'm joking. Breathe, sweet thing."

Sweet thing? That was new and thrilling in its own right.

Kenna watched him from her perch, ever amazed at the ease which Geralt so willingly deals with such extremes of monsters.

“I think that’s a bit of a trend with you, isn't it?” Kenna recovered her backbone, “Taking on the worst of jobs that accost the body mind and spirit, and get paid nickels for it?”

“Long as I can get  a hot meal and a night’s rest out of it.”

“Not without the creepiest nightmares, I’d imagine…” Kenna shuddered off.

Geralt shrugged again, “One can wish.”

Kenna huffed, but wrenched at her neck in a shudder of nervous energy,

"Well geez Geralt, that's some heavy stuff. What on earth did I say that made you think about all that?"

Geralt joined her side now: looking out at the bar, leaning back, hip to hip.

"What I meant was... There's talent in reading people, all kinds. You can put yourself in someone else's shoes, and know how to relate. Makes people at ease. Anyone who meets you-- they’re better for it." He looks at her. "I meant what I said; the world needs more people like you. For what it’s worth, the more there is of you-- the less there are of monsters like that."

Kenna hadn’t considered that connection- specters did start out as souls with flesh and blood at one point. The compliment surely meant more when Geralt spelled it out so graciously.

 There was no doubt in her mind now- hearing how nobly Dandie constantly bragged on this Witcher. As if her own little talks here and there didn’t confirm it, Geralt was always surprising her, tale after tale. Humanizing him all the more to her.

With a smarmy brow lifted, Geralt passed the mug to his lips again,

"You also asked me if I get stiffed often for payment. Had to think about that too. Would you believe me if I told you there’s only one person who's ever asked me about that before?"

In a whole lifetime, only one friend? "Really?"

As soon as she’d asked, Dandelion bellowed out some rousing opening liner to a shanty. He was really putting in the effort now- to announce the arrival of some fisherman’s party that he recognized coming in the door and set to immediately boost their spirits after a long day. Geralt pointed the bard out with a silent finger, perfect timing. 

Of course–Dandelion had been concerned, the moment she walked in the room. Kenna softened to know his eye out for Geralt wasn’t coincidence.

"Imagine my surprise... To learn you two found each other." Geralt muttered.

"Looks like we share a knack for picking up stray witchers."

Geralt huffed a small bit through his nose; a smile teasing the edges of his eyes. They wrinkled  in little, soft lines.

"He's insufferable and rarely shuts up when I need him to... But he's a good friend. Best I've had in a long time."

Kenna smiled again, happy for the turn of fate. The odds of her acquaintanceship between a bard and a monster hunter on separate instances to merge so perfectly could only be a happy accident.

Kenna held out a small hand as he might to one of his formal business prospects, more to tease than offer a real truce

"Well, if you'd like- make it two, Geralt. You'll have my ear when you need it; and I'll come set your bullies straight at the pub anytime you want. Deal?" 

But Geralt clearly had other intentions on the receiving end. His gaze flickered for a moment, surprised to catch her open hand. Yet the act brought a wider grin to his face, which was a welcome sight. 

Geralt took her hand of course, but lifted it for a quick, polite kiss instead of a shake to seal the invitation.

"Deal.” he agreed. 

Stifling that flip in her heart very quick, Kenna turned interested,

"So that's a yes on the bully-fighting? Better polish off my fisticuffs."

"If I'm ever going to let you fight, you're using a blade. Not glorified punches." Geralt countered.

"Hope you plan on teaching me,” she coughed out a laugh. “I've never used one."

Geralt sighed with a flutter of an eye roll, "You and Dandelion both. What am I gonna do with you..."

Kenna couldn’t resist;

"Swordplay, it sounds like~"

Geralt’s sharp eyes flared, sights fixed on her from a half submerged sip from his stein. Doubt, dipped with interest- clearly wondering if he heard her right. 

Kenna smirked at being able to catch him off guard. Dandelion was right about him appreciating a bit of quick wit. 

"I'll start restocking your cache and be out back if you need me." 

Kenna passed across him to grab his side pouch perched on the ground where he kept his elixir reserves. As always, that was her usual forte beyond serving up a meal he’d enjoy. Before crossing him again, she remembered to snag a couple apples from the top rack dangling from the bartop.

"Gotta check in on the ladies, too. M’sure Dandie will wanna hear your ghost story.”

“Oh gods forbid.” Geralt scowled playfully. “I’m not giving him any more ideas for his songs.”

“Oh he’s got plenty already. See ya.” Kenna turned and slipped out from the bar. 

– And what to her luck, her batch of celandine was just the right, toasty color on the back stove. 

“Perfect timing, Roach,” Kenna called to the mare across the way, “Come get a treat, sweet girl~”

Roach perked up and trotted her way over, head shoved under the awning and ready for the herbalist’s touch. She may think the lady’s pot always smelled weird in that tent of hers, but Geralt spoke nicely about his new little friend, Kenna. Wherever they went, Roach always had the suspicion the Path would lead right back to this one…

FIN

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OR ‘PEAKED’

BUT PIQUED

‘PIQUED MY INTEREST’

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