Gzera And The Warrior God

CHAPTER FIVE

The morning light filtered into the small cottage, painting the rough-hewn walls in soft hues. Thorn, the silent warrior, was awake before the sun crested the horizon, a rare surge of purpose propelling him from the still-too-small bed. Gzera, nestled beside him, was still sound asleep, her presence a curious warmth against his side. He carefully disentangled himself, his gaze lingering for a moment on her peaceful face. A bigger bed. A bigger bedroom. The words from last night echoed in his mind, and an unfamiliar anticipation stirred within him.

He grabbed his axe and headed for the forest, not bothering with his usual sparse breakfast. His search was for the strongest, most resilient timber he could find. He needed wood that could withstand his formidable strength, wood that would last. The task was straightforward, yet something about it felt different, imbued with a new significance.

Back at the cottage, Gzera was already busy. The garden she had conjured the day before was thriving, an explosion of green life against the otherwise barren landscape. She plucked fresh vegetables and fruits, their vibrant colors a testament to her magic. The tantalizing aroma of her cooking soon began to waft from the cottage, a fragrant invitation carried on the morning breeze.

It wasn't long before Caleb, the hunter, appeared, his broad shoulders laden with an impressive haul. He carried two plump birds, their feathers still iridescent, and a young deer slung over his back. His eyes, though weary from the hunt, sparkled with eagerness at the sight of Gzera and the promise of her food.

“Good morning, Gzera!” he boomed, dropping his bounty at her feet with a thud. “As promised! More meat for the best cook in all the realms!”

Gzera smiled, a genuine warmth in her eyes. “And a fine haul it is, Caleb! Come in, come in. I’ve just finished breakfast.”

She took the game, her hands moving with practiced ease as she prepared a portion for him. Caleb settled at the small table, his stomach rumbling in eager anticipation. Gzera served him a truly generous portion of her morning meal – a hearty stew simmering with tender meat and fresh vegetables, accompanied by sweet, toasted bread she’d miraculously conjured from grain.

Caleb ate with unbridled joy, each bite a revelation. He devoured the food until his plate was clean, then leaned back, letting out a contented sigh that was more like a groan of blissful repletion. “By the gods, Gzera,” he managed, barely able to speak. “I… I can barely move. That was… astounding.” He rested a hand on his bulging stomach, a look of utter contentment on his face. He knew he wouldn't be able to move much, so he stumbled outside and found a comfortable spot under a large, shady tree near the cottage. Within minutes, he was fast asleep, lulled by the warmth of the sun and the incredible satisfaction of the meal.

Not long after, Kojo, the palm wine tapper, arrived. He carried a full gallon of his finest palm wine, its milky white contents sloshing gently, and a smaller gourd filled with rich, crimson red oil, a prized cooking ingredient in his village.

“Good day, Gzera!” Kojo greeted, his voice bright. “Your fame precedes you! My village elders were very curious about the source of such a wondrous aroma!” He presented his offerings with a flourish.

“Welcome, Kojo,” Gzera replied, accepting the wine and oil with a grateful nod. “Come, share a meal.”

She served him a similar, equally generous portion of the stew. Kojo ate with the same fervor as Caleb, his face glowing with delight. “This is truly nectar and ambrosia, maiden!” he exclaimed between mouthfuls. “My compliments to your hands!”

Like Caleb, Kojo found himself utterly sated by the meal. He thanked Gzera profusely, then, feeling the familiar delicious heaviness in his belly, he too sought refuge under the same tree as Caleb. Soon, gentle snores joined Caleb’s, two figures lost in a post-feast slumber.

After clearing away the dishes, Gzera prepared her own meal, savoring the flavors she had so effortlessly brought forth from the earth. As she ate, she began to set aside ingredients for the silent warrior’s dinner. She imagined his surprise, his usual stoic demeanor momentarily cracking at the sight of another feast. A small smile touched her lips. She quite enjoyed rattling his composure.

Hours later, as the sun began its slow descent, painting the sky in fiery hues, Thorn emerged from the dense forest, his arms laden with sturdy, freshly cut logs. He was tired, but a sense of accomplishment hummed beneath his weariness. The wood was perfect.

As he neared the cottage, the familiar, yet still astonishing, aroma of Gzera’s cooking filled the air once more. It was even more potent now, promising a sumptuous evening meal. He quickened his pace, his anticipation growing.

But then, he saw them. Two figures, sprawled out beneath the ancient oak tree near his cottage, fast asleep. One, he recognized as Caleb, the hunter from the nearby territories. The other, the palm wine tapper he had occasionally seen on his solitary journeys. Both men were snoring softly, utterly lost in slumber, their faces alight with a peculiar, almost childlike contentment. And they were on his land.

Thorn stopped dead, a dangerous stillness settling over him. His storm-cloud eyes narrowed, and a low, guttural growl rumbled in his chest. His territory, his solitude, was being invaded. Not just by Gzera, but now by these two strangers, who were literally sleeping on his property! A wave of primal anger, hot and fierce, surged through him. He took a step forward, his knuckles whitening on the axe handle, a cold fury rising within him.

Just then, the cottage door opened, and Gzera stepped out, a radiant smile on her face. She saw him, axe in hand, eyes blazing, and then followed his gaze to the two sleeping men. Her smile didn’t falter.

“Ah, you’re back!” she chirped, her voice completely unconcerned by his simmering rage. “Just in time! I’ve prepared a wonderful feast for you tonight. And don’t worry about them,” she added, gesturing dismissively towards the two sleeping men. “They’re just… recovering from my cooking. They both brought me gifts for food, and well, I may have been a little generous with the portions. They’ll be gone by morning, I assure you.”

Her explanation was so simple, so utterly matter-of-fact, that it defused Thorn’s anger almost instantly. He still glared at the sleeping men, a residual flicker of irritation in his eyes, but the murderous intent faded. His rage transformed into a bewildered exasperation. She had used his land, and his cottage, to conduct her little culinary bartering scheme. And now, he had two unconscious strangers napping in his front yard.

He let out a long, weary sigh. The rage was gone, replaced by the familiar sense of being utterly outmaneuvered by this tiny, audacious priestess. He dropped the logs he carried with a thud.

“Right,” he grumbled, though the sound lacked its usual menace. He walked into the cottage, the intoxicating aroma of her evening feast drawing him in.

The rest of the evening was spent on the new bed. Thorn, with his immense strength and skilled hands, began the task immediately after eating the incredible feast Gzera had prepared for him. He worked quickly and efficiently, his axe and knife carving and shaping the wood he had just brought in. The cottage, small as it was, now seemed even smaller as the enormous frame of the new bed began to take shape. It took up almost half of the room, dominating the space, a testament to its size and his promise.

Gzera watched him, offering advice and encouragement, her excitement palpable. She brought him water, smoothed rough edges with her small hands, and simply observed, her presence a steady, comforting warmth.

When the bed was finally complete, a magnificent structure of sturdy wood and tightly woven ropes, Gzera let out a small gasp of delight. She immediately ran over, testing the mattress, bouncing slightly. The smile that lit up her face, the sheer, unadulterated excitement in her emerald eyes, was worth every ounce of his effort, every inconvenience to his solitary life.

“It’s perfect!” she exclaimed, looking up at him, her face radiant. “Absolutely perfect!”

Thorn, looking at her glowing face, felt a strange warmth spread through his chest. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in years, a quiet sense of satisfaction that had nothing to do with battle or duty. Perhaps, he mused, this unexpected disruption to his life might not be so bad after all.