"Did you drink the tea I suggested?"
  "...no. Tasted funny," came the gutteral reply.
  Hrokr raised a bushy eyebrow at his green-skinned companion. A short few steps
over to the fireplace, and the ranger took the quietly whistling kettle from its chain,
before carrying it to the table where Brokul sat slumped.
  "I told you it would help with aching pains and stuffiness."
  "It had bad taste, Hrokr," the orc insisted.
  "Well now you feel worse than it would have tasted," Hrokr responded chidingly as
he poured a cup of the dark tea.
  "I oughta pin your head to the floor. Make you feel what my head feels like,"
groaned Brokul.
  "In your state I don't think you could pin a gnome," the human replied.
  The orc shuttered, recoiling at Hrokr's words.
  "...I thought I couldn't feel more bad than this," the hulking monk answered sadly.
  "That means you'll only feel better from here, so drink up," the ranger said with a
positive smile.
  Brokul blinked in confusion.
  "How you bring me so low and pull me back up...hurt, heal, hurt, heal..."
  Hrokr set the kettle on the table, folding his arms over his chest.
  "Well I'm not the one going and wrestling yetis in the freezing mountains with no
coat, am I?"
  The orc nodded his head admittingly, shrugging his broad shoulders.
  "Think about it this way," Hrokr said, looking up towards the heavens as if invoking
a greater source of wisdom. "If I wanted to build more muscle, who would I seek
guidance from?"
  "Brokul," the orc suggested.
  "And if I wanted to become a better brawler, who would I ask?"
  "Brokul," the orc answered.
  "And if I wanted to improve wrestli—"
  "Brokul," the orc interrupted.
  "Yes, exactly," Hrokr smiled as he returned his gaze to the beleaguered orc. "And
if you wanted to learn the best remedies for getting over any natural ailment
such as a cold, brought about by the changing of the seasons, or the weather, or
the plants, you would ask..."
  "Uh...a...ranger."
  "I agree! And is there a ranger that you occasionally share a bed with?"
  "...well...you."
  Hrokr nodded with a smile as he placed his hands on the table and leaned in close
to the orc. Brokul leaned slightly away, his head lowering as he cowered under the
ranger's determined guidance.
  "Drink the damn tea. It'll taste good now. You forgot to put honey in it when you last
tried it."
  Hrokr's lips delivered a single brief peck on the orc's cheek, before he pulled back
and began walking to the kitchen to grab himself a bowl of chicken soup.
  Brokul let out a long sigh. As he inhaled, the amazing scent of the soup in front of
him stimulated his senses. He took his spoon in hand and ate some of it. It was
quite good. Cleaning his spoon with his tongue, he gave the tea a stir, and took a
cautious sip. It was also very good. The ranger returned, setting his bowl on the
table and sliding up next to him.
  Brokul smiled tiredly, as he decided Hrokr was pretty good too.

---

Also, I made this entirely because I've been feeling like Brokul here all day long
because of the weather and pressure change lately. Ugh. Bleh.

*Also, I wish there were a way to justify text. It'd make stories a lot more
traditionally readable than just a huge, wide, chaotic unformatted slog.