The Treehouse

"So, Fjord ..." Sorak trailed off.
"Yeah?"
"What are you going to do about Durale?"
"The Bitch, Sorak, you mean The Bitch"
Sorak shrugged. "The Bitch, then."
I cast an alarm spell before answering.
"Well, she was pretty good in the temple. She did her job - finished her job. We have no other thief except for Van. We'll need her for what's next, I suppose. "
Sorak perused the treehouse interior, admiring the fine Elven craftsmanship. He stopped to inspect a cupboard and found a flagon of table wine. He held it up for me to see and I nodded my approval. Sorak talked while he poured. "What about after ... assuming we live?"
"Unless I can think of a better plan, I'll let her make the first move. If she tries while we're sleeping, the alarm should give me a chance to react."
Sorak handed me a cup. The wine smelled faintly of acorns. Sorak raised his cup in a toast. "Well, here's to dragon slaying, Fjord."
"To dragon slaying, Sorak"

Another dragon. Huge and terrible and spewing poisonous gas from every oriphace. I swished a mouthful of the wine around before swallowing. "We might really die this time."
Sorak shrugged again. "You always say that."
"But this time I really feel it in my bones."
Sorak laughed "You always say that, too!"
"At any rate, do you have a contingency plan?"
"I suppose contingency must mean backup?"
"More or less. If you are wiling to overlook certain nuances."
"Hmmph. There you go again, being all ... what's that word you taught me?"
"Erudite."
"... being all erudite. And for your information, I do have a ... contingency plan. If the dragon kills everyone else, I run for my life."
I slipped a scroll tube out of my cloak and showed it to him. Well, if I'm alive too, remind me that I'm carrying this, and stick close."
Sorak laughed again and proceeded to drain his cup. "Ok, Mr. Wizard Man. I'll remember that you have that fancy scroll."
"That's Mr. Wizard Elf, mister."
"Right, right. Gods, you are a touchy one."
"Only regarding certain adherences to protocol."
Sorak rolled his eyes and poured himself another cup. I continued to brood over my first.

"Sorak..."
"Yeah, Fjord?"
"Did I ever tell you that I wrote a last will and testemant?"
"A will, eh? Do I get anything fancy?"
"Definitely. But I didn't bring up the subject to bother you with details. I've a favour to ask."
"Name it."
"I want you to promise me that my parents will get a share of the money."
"Done."
We clasped arms and drank to it.
And now I will rest a bit easier, knowing that my affairs are in decent order. This may be my last entry. If it is, well:

Goodbye.