By Moonlight Wrought (Bt Moonlight Wrought) by John Crandall

Just the night before, the two of them had slugged their way out of a
fight which had erupted around them and each was pleasantly surprised by the
other’s skill.  But Melissa knew that this was not the time to be fighting.
             “Don’t Dirk,” she said and Dirk let the
man go with a shove.
             “It’s okay,” Busy said.  “Don’t fight
because of me, Dirk.”  Dirk took a deep breath and patted Busy roughly on his
broad back.
             “I know, Busy,” said Dirk, still glaring
at the rude patron, as if still weighing the value of a beating. 
             It was then that Malchor came out. 
Malchor was a short, swarthy, dark-haired foreigner with a large moustache.  “Dirk,”
he said, his hands out, silently beseeching him to be peaceful.  “No fighting,”
he said with a heavy accent.
             “I know,” said Dirk.  “I can’t help it.” 
He looked at the floor like a scolded child.  Malchor reached up and smacked
Dirk lightly on the face several times.
             “Yes, yes.  You can be such a good
boy...sometimes.  Let Busy handle himself, Dirk.”
             “What about this?” the patron asked,
pointing to his shirt.  Malchor looked at him momentarily then spoke.
             “You pay for the drink and then get out,”
he said, thrusting his thumb in the direction of the door.  Melissa chuckled. 
“This is a nice place, and we don’t like rudeness here.  So leave now, or I let
Dirk show you the street.”  He held his palms open and shrugged, cocking his
head as if saying:  “That’s all.”  The man threw a silver coin onto the counter
and stormed out, cursing.  Malchor turned to Dirk, not angry or rattled in the
least.  “So, Dirk, who is pretty girl?”
             “Malchor, this is Melissa from
Stoneheim.  She works with me at the store.”  Malchor shook her hand lightly
and smiled, holding onto her hand with both of his, his hands both warm and
soft.
             “Hello.  It is so nice to meet a friend
to Dirk—especially one so pretty.  He seldom has friends.”  Malchor kissed both
her cheeks, though Melissa had to lean forward and bend over ever so slightly
so Malchor could easily touch his lips to her face. 
             “Malchor,” Dirk sighed with
embarrassment.
             “I’ve known Dirk since he was a little
orphan, like Busy.  He would run in here to get away from the bully boys.” 
Malchor released Melissa’s hands and reached high to grasp Dirk’s fiercely
blushing face, his hulking shoulders slumped forward.  “So now he chases the
bullies off.  And look at him, no longer a little fat boy, but instead big and
strong like the ox.  And the ladies...they just love him.  I’m sure you know
this too, Melissa.”  Malchor smiled proudly as if over his own son, casting her
an obvious wink.  “It was nice to meet you, dear.  You come back and we’ll get
to know each other very well.”  Malchor left, patting Dirk on the back,
returning from whence he had come.  Dirk brightened, smiled shyly at Malchor’s
affection then introduced Melissa to all the regulars and they drank for
several hours before walking to Dirk’s room.
             Melissa’s slight attraction to Dirk was
growing:  while he was handsome and strapping, it was his honest integrity that
drew her to him and her time with Dirk showed her it was not an act, but an
integral part of his psyche.  And while he was no genius, his knowledge of that
vast confusing—to her—city made her seem brilliant and resourceful in her eyes.
             While Dirk felt the same warmth towards
Melissa, the two just had not told each other anything of their desires,
keeping their relationship platonic.  Melissa wanted fewer complications in her
life and Dirk, though he liked Melissa, had trouble trusting women.  Though
Dirk thought Melissa was pretty, in fact possessing