The following takes place in a fairly generic D&D-like fantasy world. D&D spells and fighting styles are referenced, but I hope I have made everything accessible to people unfamiliar with the mechanics.
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"I just don't understand, no member of the bowstring has ever volunteered to be the yew cores." A stern elven commander sighed at me. I couldn't give him the real reason, he'd never understand. Ever since this strange alliance, elves and dwarves working together to repel the threat of men, we all were suddenly out of our comfort zone. We were wedded to a novel military strategy, the elven units (referred to as the bowstring) were archers and mages that supported from behind, while the dwarven fighters and barbarians formed units known as arrowpoints to break the lines and push the invaders back.
But keeping us so strictly separate was bad for cohesion and bred resentment that elves got all the assistance magic, so there are the yew cores, elven mages placed in the arrowpoints to give magical assistance to their raw fury. It was well known that only elves that had pissed off the wrong people ended up in the yew cores, so nobody could understand why I wanted to join.
I've heard the term whirlwind romance before, I understand it's meant to represent a sudden tumultuous crash of emotions, but I don't think it fits. The storm brews, the wind picks up, and you can see the whirlwind coming, it is something only a fool is totally unprepared for. My romance was more like a bolt of lightning from a cloudless sky.
Like most elves, I first met dwarves in our shared army camps and mess halls. We would make small talk in passing but that barrier seemed insurmountable, so we did what everyone does with friendly rivalries, we would play pranks on one another.
One day I fetched my meal and sat with the other elves, and began to drink my honeyblossum wine, only for a bitter taste to assault my tastebuds. As I gazed around I saw that my elvish companions were all spitting out their drinks in disgust as dwarves laughed on at their devious switcheroo. I detected the pang of alcohol on the palate and realised this wasn't some disgusting concoction designed just to be horrible, it was a strong dwarvish drink they clearly didn't think we had the stomach for. So I steeled my resolve, finished my glass, and gave a huge false sight of satisfaction when done.
Then, just to make my point I drained the glass next to mine too.
The dwarves were both impressed and angry at my resolve, and that's when Jodrolim stepped forward, laughing his head off. He patted me on the back, and announced to the rest of the dwarves.
"We've found mithril in the dirt tonight, lads." He announced, pulling me close and welcoming me into his group of friends. Usually I would have declined out of propriety, but whatever I had drank was of such strength I was willing to throw caution to the wind, and Jodrolim had this relentless charisma that I became completely washed up in.
And after a couple more drinks and Jodrolim's fantastic company, I even felt comfortable letting him take me back to his tent to fuck me.
You have to understand, even in war with everyone seizing the day lest they die tomorrow, I would never usually have sex with someone the first night I met them. I admit I undersell my willingness due to a vestigial attachment to propriety, by his account I swept him off his feet just as surely as he did mine.
From there we went on to spend every moment we could together, any time we weren't training or on manoeuvres we would seek out each other's company. I learned to sharpen my tongue in the presence of his friends, and he learned to refine his wit around mine. That's when I decided to become a member of the yew core. If the men were still advancing, I wanted to face my end side by side with Jodrolim. I already knew the elf assigned to his team was eager to leave and had arranged a swap if my request was approved.
There was bemusement, disappointment, elves trying desperately to talk me out of it, but the only thing I couldn't handle never arrived, rejection.
...
"Alright fellas." Jodrolim began.
"Fellas?" Yelled a female dwarf in confusion.
"You heard me, Moldir, just coz your privates don't dangle, doesn't make you not one of the fellas. Now shut it while I give my pretty words." Jodrolim replied.
"Pretty words, you've been hanging out with that elf too long." Another of his cohort yelled.
"Well you're about to find out what that's like. I had an awe-inspiring speech about having one of us as a yew core, there was going to be a battle cry and everything, but you ruined it so now I'm just going to say this. Motherfucking Nyana is our battalion's yew core!" Jodrolim announced, rhythmically banging his axe on the ground.
At first there was silence, shock. But soon the whole battalion joined in, banging their axes and cheering with unrestrained joy. I had been quietly standing to one side but the boisterous dwarves wouldn't allow that and lifted me on their shoulders and up to the stage.
"Thanks." I stuttered, not prepared for this outpouring of support. "I don't think an elf has ever gotten this level of support from dwarves."
"It's a low bar, you're just the first one to care if we live or die." Came a yell from the crowd.
"Keep interrupting my speech and see if it stays that way." I joshed. The crowd laughed, appreciating every time I showed that I wasn't stuck up. "None of you actually want to hear me talking, you wanna get drunk and celebrate your slightly increased chances of survival. So get some ale down you, I'll take the battalion's watch duties for you tonight."
The explosion of joy and the party that followed will stay with me for some time as I departed to the defensive embankment at edge of our camp. The fortress we were protecting at the time used outlying dwarf camps as both early warning signals and first line of defence, so constant vigilance was drilled hard and being relieved of watching duty was the highest privilege. I took my place looking out over the plains, no signs of any disturbance except the laughter of Jodrolim's approach about an hour into my shift.
"You certainly know how to raise spirits." He chuckled.
"The lightweights in this battalion can barely handle ale, I don't think they should be moving on to spirits yet." I replied through giggles. "Shouldn't you be joining them?"
"I had a few, but the lads decided you should have some company on watch. I'm telling you, there's a good chance you will be the first elf a dwarf has ever taken an arrow for."
"Do they know I took an arrow from you the night we met? Or did you not want them asking how many tries it took you to hit the bullseye?" I japed.
"Oh, so you're planning on being a brat tonight? Sounds like you need a game of rune bones to put you in your place." Jodrolim suggested, that cheeky glint in his eye sending shivers into my core.
