Blinking at the tableau in front of him, the pack in his hand sliding to thump, unnoticed, against the door frame. "Immalaine!" he exclaims. "Yer al'right!" He takes a step forward, into the small cabin. "How... how'd you find?..." He shakes his head, still looking between the three other people.
As she hears Rastellion enter Immalaine turns to look at him. A range of emotions quickly cross her face -- shock, happiness, pain -- before she schools her face into a simple grin. "I jus' sorta followed th' road. Weren't that hard t' do. Any fool coulda done it." She fails to mention the several other doors she knocked on before finding the right house.
He picks up his pack, shutting the door before he turns back to her. "Well it was a damn fool thing t' do! Orcs, wargs.. ya coulda got killed up here. An' we don't even have th' new farm yet. How could you?..." He breaks off as his uncle raps the table.
"Peace, lad!" the big man says, overriding Rastellion's flow of words. "Immalaine here came all th' way out here, alone, seeking t' do you a good turn. I'll not deny it weren't th' smartest thing I've seen" - he gives her shoulder a friendly squeeze at this - "but weren't the most foolish, neither. Wish I had a friend as ready t' help me!"
Rastellion purses his lips, then says, "That's true 'nuff." He looks back at the girl. "But, Immalaine, what were you thinking you could do?"
"I was thinkin' I could do 'xactly what I said I'd do, an' help yer pa out when ye got th' farm bought an' ready. That's what I was thinkin'." she replied, taken aback by Rastellion's yelling. She clung to the mug of tea, watching him cautiously.
Shaking his head, he takes a deep breath, a look of frustration flitting over his face. Before he can speak, Cuthberd pipes up querulously from his corner. "Here, boy, why are ye natterin' with that wench an' not greetin' yer ol' man? Told ya not t' come back without m' money, din' I? Ya have it for me, boy?"
Slumping his shoulders, he steps over to the far side of the room to kiss to top of
his father's head. "Sorry, sir," he mutters. "An' th' mayor's office finally has all th' work done, they jus' need you t' sign an affidavit sayin' as you'll authorize me t' sign and receive th' deed." He takes a deep breath. "Or you could come down an' sign it yourself..." He jumps at the sound of his father banging his crutch against th' floor.
"Me? Travel t' Bree? Wit' half a leg? Or'd you forget how I was shot while defendin' you an' our land from orcs?"
Rastellion takes a step back. "I just thought..." he begins. "An why not?" Ceolfred interjects. "Do ya good t' get out of this cabin, Cuthberd. Mebbe go see some o' that Bree farmland that Rastellion says is so nice."
"Pah!" Cuthberd spits into the fire. "M' family's always farmed these lands, an we always will. "What's good 'nuff for my father's good enough for you, boy!" he exclaims, jabbing a forefinger toward Rastellion. "An don't ye forget it"
Rastellion exhales and turns back toward the center of the cabin. "Ye got anything t' drink, here?" he asks his uncle in a low voice.
Sipping her tea, Immalaine watches in rapt fascination as the three men quarrel amongst themselves. Or rather as Cuthberd quarrels with everyone around him. Shaking her head, she remains quiet as she watches Rastelion move to the center of the room, her green eyes full of turmoil, before taking another sip of tea and closing her eyes for a moment.
"Got mint & willowbark tea," Ceolfred says, moving back to the table where he'd been cutting vegetables. "An' just put th' stew on. Get some food in you afore having somethin' stronger, lad!" Rastellion trails behind him.
As Ceolfred pours the tea, Rastellion pulls a small leather pouch from his belt and hands it over. "Here," he says quietly, "here's t' help pay for pa." Ceolfred weighs the small bag in his hand. "Tha's the third one like this," he says. "Yer not gettin' into bad ways down in Breetown, are ya, lad?" Rastellion shakes his head. "All from tradin'," he says, still quietly, "like I tol' you before. An' don't worry, I got plenty for myself still... Jus' don't tell pa."
Needing something to do other than stare at Rastellion's broad shoulders and back, Immalaine sets her mug on the table as she stands, moving over to the fireplace to look down on the stew and stir it. Behind her, she can hear Rastellion and his uncle speaking but can't make out the words, though distracted as she was she'd not have heard them anyway.
Ceolfred studies him for a long moment, then pockets the bag and shakes his head. "Yer a good lad," he says. "An' a better son than that sorry sack o' vinegar deserves." Then he turns back toward the room, a smile back on his face, and moves to rejoin Immalaine. "Well, mebbe Rastellion knows, but I sure don't. How 'bout, while we wait for th' stew, you tell me, Immalaine, jus' what you were hopin' t' do up here." He chuckles. "An don't use long words, neither, as I ain't a clever fellow like m' nephew here."
Turning back from the stew, Immalaine has to collect her thoughts as she hears Ceolfred speak to her. "I'm a farm girl, only thing I'm reckonin' on doin' is grow some crops. An' I'm good at it too, I dun mind sayin' so. I'm ain't lookin' fer nothin' 'xcept t' help out."
From the fireside, Cuthberd snorts a bitter laugh. "Help out!..." Ceolfred speaks over him. "Aye, so you're a farm girl. But why come up here?" He looks around. "I ain't no farmer, and Cuthberd's farm's been sold. Don't even have th' money quite yet from that, an' don't know where th' new farm will be," he says, throwing a hard stare past her at the other man "though my brother in law's dead set on makin a go of it up here." He turns his gaze back to Immalaine, his expression softening. "I've no doubt o' yer heart, la - Immalaine - but how's it helpin' Rastellion t' come up here?"
Rastellion adds, "Not to mention as how you've left Zandianna, who's afraid ye'll get eaten by orcs." His mouth quirks. "An near bit my head off, blamin' me for you running off!"
"'Cause that's what friends do, is all." she said, refusing to look over at Rastelion, though her shoulders slump a bit at the mention of the lady Zandrianna. She'd spent the whole night, just days before she left, crying on on her shoulder as she told her everything. Afterwards, Zan had simply wiped her tears and hugged her, before tucking her into bed.
Ceolfred studies the girl for a long moment, but only says, "I see."
Rastellion steps to the hearth and turns, warming his back at the fire. "Well, I don't see," he complains. "Even once we get th' farm, there won't be coin t' pay a farmhand." He scowls. "Not with how little farmin' brings in in these parts, that is. And I gotta stick with my pa." His gaze returns to Immalaine, and he says, softly, "An' I wouldn't stay in Bree t' leave you - or anyone - alone wi' him." He sips his tea, then says, at normal volume again. "So why?"
Ceolfred heaves a sigh. "Y' know," he says to the room in general, "this is my house an' I say tha's enough talk on empty stomachs. Rastellion, come on outside wi' me t' bring in some more wood. Stew'll be ready soon."
Rastellion blinks at the log hamper, still nearly two-thirds full. "But there's plenty o'..." he begins. "Don't be talkin' back t' me in my own house, boy," Ceolfred scolds. "Now come." To Immalaine he adds. "You stay put, Immalaine. You're my guest. We'll be right back."
Checking the stew one more time, Immalaine returns to sitting at the table, leaning down to rub her calf, which was cramped from walking the past two days. She looks over at Rastellion's pa, who was apparently lost in his own thoughts at the moment; not good ones either, she mused, from the scowl on his face. As she rubbed her leg, she started humming a lullaby that Zandrianna had sung to her that night. Under her breath she begins singing. Her voice, though low, was clear and sweet and the music seemed to calm her some as she lay her head on her knees and sighed.
Outside, Rastellion picks up several split logs from the pile at the side of the cabin, and turns to bring them in. His uncle stops him. "An' here I thought you were th' clever one!" Ceolfred says, frowning at the boy.
Rastellion looks down at the wood then back up. "What d'ya mean?..." Ceolfred shakes his head. "Lad, th' girl's smitten with ya. Why else d'ya think she's come wanderin' up here?" Rastellion frowns. "I dunno! Makes no sense! But she said we should be 'just friends' and..."
Ceolfred grips his nephew's shoulder. "Lad, women never make sense when they start thinkin' with their hearts. Don't tell me you ain't noticed /that/?! What'd'ya do to the poor lass, anyway, t' send her runnin' away like this?" Rastellion stares. "Running away?! I never..." He trails off, remembering his conversation with Zandrianna.
Ceolfred squeezes his shoulder. "Never mind. Ya don't need t' tell me. You're a good lad; ye'll do th' right thing. Just... try t' see what's right in front o' yer face, hm?" Not waiting for a reply, he turns and strides back into the cabin. Rastellion, his face a tangle of confused emotions, follows with the wood after several long moments.
(Credits and love go to Rastellion, who provided the voice of the male characters in this story. *Blows kisses to Rastellion and grins widely*)
