Grumgh looked at her, then at Borin, who stood with his mouth agape, the broom drooping slightly in his hand. His mind, trained for memorization, not understanding, worked laboriously. Rejected by Sirvelon. Copperless. Without purpose. And now this strange, skinny creature with pointy ears was proposing a partnership. The risk of death versus further wandering in search of work and prospect of starving to death.
"Together," he said finally, not as a question, but as a statement of fact. "The probability of success in confronting the undead increases by 47.3 percent with the cooperation of two individuals, even if their individual competencies are... questionable. Assuming they possess basic armament and at least rudimentary tactical knowledge."
"Oh gods," groaned Borin, shaking his head. "It's like watching two disasters join forces to create one big, divine catastrophe."
Tamira ignored him. A small spark of hope ignited in her chest. She nodded to Grumgh, her clumsy gesture almost ending with her head hitting his chest.
"So... a deal? We split the payment fifty-fifty?"
"Two and a half silvers," stated Grumgh, nodding his massive head. "Acceptable."
"Good!" Tamira straightened up, trying to look like a leader. "Then let's go. To Landon's Nook. First..." she looked at his torn boots and her thin cloak. "First, we need to get there somehow."
Borin sighed deeply, reached for the purse on his belt, and pulled out ten coppers. He threw them into the mud in front of them.
"That's for your journey. Just so I never see you again. Both of you. It's an investment in my peace of mind."
"Thank you for your hospitality," Grumgh grumbled, which sounded so absurdly formal under the circumstances that Borin just froze.
Borin turned on his heel and disappeared into the depths of the inn, slamming the door with such force that the frame seemed to shudder. Grumgh and Tamira stood for a moment in the muddy alley, surrounded by a silence that felt thicker than the previous mockery. Ten coppers lay in a brown puddle like forgotten alms.
Tamira was the first to shake off the numbness. Her still-trembling fingers reached for the coins. They were cold and foreign in her hand, but they constituted more than she'd had in months. She put them in her purse, pulling the drawstring tight with determination.
"Well then..." she began, uncertainly. "I suppose we should go."
Grumgh nodded, and the wire frame on his nose wobbled precariously. His gaze was fixed on the ground, as if analyzing the structure of the mud.
"Yes. Logistically speaking, the optimal solution is to depart this location in the shortest possible time."
Tamira looked at him, confused. The language he used was as foreign as elven songs were to the village farmers. But there was no aggression in his voice, only a kind of mechanical resignation. Upon closer inspection, she noticed that despite his powerful build, the orc looked rather gaunt, as if he hadn't been eating properly for quite some time.
They set off towards the outskirts, avoiding puddles and dung. Larnwick Stream slowly disappeared behind them, and with it, the shadow of shame and humiliation. When they passed the last cottage and found themselves on the bumpy road leading into the forest, Tamira felt she could take a deeper breath. She was no longer alone.