Beren had dreamed, but what he had dreamed he couldn't remember. There was something elusive in his thoughts, something he couldn't quite grasp, and as he opened his eyes, it faded away into nothingness. He was suddenly aware he was covered up by rough blankets, his shirt having been stripped off and his axe and staff were lain beside him. His head was propped on the soft end of his pack, and the ceiling above was so tall, he almost could not see it from the dim lighting. A fire crackled noisily, and he turned his head slightly to watch small embers leaping onto the cold, stone floor as Jocasta placed another piece of kindling in the fire. The dwarves had brought a few wooden logs for just such an occasion, and they were known the world over for making a fire in even the worst conditions. Across the fire, the fat merchant Buri slept, snoring loudly. 

"I thought I was dead," Beren chuckled. Jocasta sprang up and turned, lips parted as she scampered to him. Immediately her hand moved his hair and felt his forehead, and the other pulled the blankets up further. 

"You call me crazy? Don't ever do something like that again." She lectured. 

"Waking up a draugr king for research purposes is kind of crazy," He pointed out, raising his brows. 

"I did not know that was going to happen!" She responded, a bit sulkily. "Anyway, the dwarves went deeper into the city. I thought it was for some honor thing, but Otar thinks he can heal Varin by finding some shrine. He was pretty injured..." 

"I should help," Beren said, duty immediately coming into his mind. He started to rise, the blanket falling off his muscled shoulders. Jocasta protested, trying to push him down with her hands before giving an exasperated sigh and dropping atop his chest, rump first. Beren immediately fell back to the floor, Jocasta now sitting on him, arms crossed. "Your butt hits harder than the building." He said, and she burst out laughing. He groaned and still tried to lift himself. "At least let me sit up!" 

She acquiesced and scooted over, which meant she was now on his lap again. He braced himself with his hands and sat up fully. His pendant hanging from his bare chest glinted in the firelight. He might have been a warrior monk, from a secret order originating high in the mountains across the sea, but with his tanned skin with wan scars and his unruly mane of dark hair, he looked more like a barbarian from the fringes of civilization. Except for his lopsided smile. 

"You did good with the beast." He complimented her. "Those earrings are badass. Who got those for you, by the way?"