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'Strong' and it's 'companion piece' of sorts, 'Weak'.


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Okay, the first one (Strong) I did ages ago. All from imoen's POV, about <charname>. I don't seem to have posted it here, so enjoy. Hopefully.


...please? :)





I can never get over his strength-even when he'd been a little boy when I'd first met him at Candlekeep he'd been muscular, a wiry youth with defined biceps, able to lift things many of the adults couldn't-though with difficulty.


When he was sixteen he was build like a pint-sized ogre. He could hold a struggling cow by the head (just about), lift things that needed two men to haul without any obvious difficulty. Hell, once as a dare, he'd picked me up with one hand, and held me high above his head for over a minute. Gorian cought us though and kinda misunderstood it though-he had to muck the stables out for a week for 'picking on' poor ol' Imoen.


When *I* was sixteen he was the only ninteen year old I knew of who could vault over walls and sprint for minutes at a time in full armour (which had to be taken to the blacksmith and modified to accomodate his muscles) complete with weapons and pack . The only reason he couldn't do it in platmail was because the armour was too restrictive, and the only reason he didn't use a greatsword with one hand was because the blade was too long.

And he was big. I mean, he'd always been big, but byt that point he was big. Hull-over six feet himself-was dwarfed by him when we left, and when he grabs me by the arm-even at the shoulder-his fingers meet at the other side.


When he was twenty and we were out on the road, he literally ripped the arm off a bounty hunter. I'd just got walloped into a corner by her and her spirit hammer, and he must have seen; I saw him plough through the mayhem of the bar brawl-tossing people in his way left and right and he just grabbed her hammer arm with one hand, grabbed her body with the other, lifted her off the ground with no trouble-despite the fact she was in full plate armour-and simply pulled.


I had nightmares of her eyes and screem and the fountain of blood that spattered me for months. Heck, sometimes I still have them now...




When we met Minsc I thought he'd found his equal.


I was wrong.


Jaheira, Kahlid, me, even Dynaheir couldn't calm Minsc down when he'd gone beserk. He'd just grab Minsc by the arms and not let go-or bearhug him-until he calmed down.


When we were doing some combat training in Candlekeep in our teens, he hit my shield so hard my arm was limp for over an hour... and he hadn't even hit me as hard as we knew he could. You see, when he fought, he didn't just beat people into submission with a rain of heavy blows-he was too good a warrior for simply that. But sometimes, if he couldn't get through his enemy's defenses, that's exactly what he did. Sarevok found that out to his cost under Baldur's Gate.



But all that is not what I can't get over. It's how gentle he is. I know it sounds really stupid after what I've just listed-especially that bounty-hunter- but he really is. I never saw him hurt Aerie-accidently or otherwise-despite how frail she is. When kids are gathered around us wanting us to tell stories of our adventures, or how we became a couple, he laughs and plays with them, marching along with a child on either shoulder, one under each arm and a pack of them running around his feet.


I can't get over his strength-but it's not because of how strong he is-because of how gentle he can be.

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A semi-companion piece for 'Strong'-it's semi linked to it, in the sence it's the same <charname>. This time though, our Big Bad Beefy Bhaalspawn of Bashing (Or as Imoen has dubbed him, 'Titch' [despite the fact he's a good two feet taller than her at over seven feet]) is feeling the allure of a cerain elf... inspired by this.




It was summer on Toril, in the woodlands near Nalia D'arnise's castle, and most picturesque-the leaves on the ground and younger trees and bushes dappled in sunlight, shafts of light pushing through, the odd bird singing and the scuttle of the occasional deer or badger, or other woodland creature. A most tranquil pictu-


A brief scream of terror from someone filled the air, causing miscellanious fauna to bolt for safety as a few birds flew up from the trees, before it was cut off abruptly.


...okay, maybe not tranquil.

Immediately after this scream two meaty thuds were heard, the rustle of leaves, and briefly followedwas the sound of someone trying not to be sick. Wiping the blood off his two handed sword Titch gazed unsympathetically at Nalia as her efforts failed, vomitng onto the forest floor while looking a ghastly shade of green.


"Suck it up D'arnise, you're going to be seeing alot more of that when we get to those trolls." He saw Aerie out the corner of his eye, and sighed.

"Et tu Aerie?"

Almost as green as the woodland canopy above them, Aerie shook her head slightly.

"J-just let's get away fr-from...." she stalked past Titch, very deliberately not looking at what was left of the last bandit-the others in the bandit group were dead too, sure, but this one had been cut in half with a mighty cleave from Titch's sword-starting from the shoulder, and coming out the pelvis on the side.


Exchanging a glance with Jaheira Titch jogged after her. He caught up with her easily enough-she'd walked less than fifty yards onto the edge of a clearing and was breathing deeply, trembling as she leant unsteadily against a tree.


"I'm sorry..." she whispered over her shoulder, "I just... I've..." she trailed off, unsure how to say it.

Titch wasn't sure what to do either. He was good at alot of things-when he rumbled into battle with Minsc bits of body would shortly start flying. He was good at armour maintence. He was good at weapon maintence, of foraging for food, and he could sing 'The Hedgehog cannot be buggered,' all 38 glorious verses thanks to Imoen and Garrick-mainly Imoen though.


Comforting someone-let alone an elf that was not only barely over half his height but looked so frail he could snap her in two without trying, despite shield and nasty looking mace-was not one of them. He reached with a massive paw to put it on her shoulder in what would be a comfroting manner to Titch, but before he did, he hesitated a a second before gently placing his gauntlet encased hand oh her shoulder. Not for the first time, he realised just how small she was-his hand was nearly as big as her head. She didn't seem to react to his touch though, and her trembling subsided after a few minutes and she pulled herself together.

Looking over her shoulder-and up-she gave Titch a weak smile.

"Th-thank you, Titch," she said in her nervous way. He gave her a small smile. "You'll get used to it. You should have seen my reaction when I first did that to someone."


"Unlike you, he didn't keep his stomach contents," Jaheira added as she approached them. "We must continue to the keep Titch, no matter-' she gave Aerie a gaze that while it wasn't sympathetic, was neither tinged with malice or contempt - 'what.'


These words seemed to strike a chord in Aerie. shrugging off Titch's shoulder, she picked up her shield, and rested her mace on her now vacent shoulder. "Jaheira's right... we must get to the keep and help Nalia,' she spoke, iron determination in her voice.


Maybe it was the light from the sun, shining through the clearing onto her, the way her back was straight and defiant, or the steel tone in her voice, the way she'd tilted her head, pouted her lower lip slighty, and fixed him with her eyes, but... that jerkin suddenly seemed to suggest womanly curves, of a lithe body, and her lips seemed to be aching to be kissed.

For the first time since he'd met her nearly a week ago, for an oh-so-brief moment that Titch didn't even register, he didn't see Aerie as a weak frail wingless elf-girl; he saw her as a woman.


Thinking about it that later that night, as he prepared to get some rest for the assault on the keep tomorrow he realised... he realised he'd liked what he'd seen in that oh-so-brief moment.


Really liked it.

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