They approach the mill and mill-house, situated on a pleasant hillside that slopes down to the falls at the outflow of a small lake. "Remind me what it is you were hoping for,” Rastellion asks. “To sell the mill but not the mill-house, was that it?"
Rossiath nods emphatically. "My husband built that house for me, 25 years ago now. Lived there all that time. Brought our son up there. I'm not looking to move out of it ‘til I’m carried out. Though," she says, slumping her shoulders, "It's looking like I’ll have no say in the matter."
"Debts to pay... I remember. Well, let me see the place. Perhaps it'll give me some ideas, or a thought as to who I know as might be interested in it."
Nodding at him, she turns down the path towards her house. "Now, I'll be forthright. The mill's needing repairs. My son wasn't good at tending the place at all. If my husband were alive to see it, he'd be ashamed." Rossiath hangs her head, clenching her hands as she walks.
Rastellion chuckles wryly. "Perhaps not the best sales pitch," he says, "but I appreciate your honesty. Which is what one looks for most in seller, or buyer!"
Giving him a brief smile of thanks, Rossiath goes ahead to open the gate to the property, the hinges squeaking in their need for care. "Well, there's no point in me trying to lie about it. You'll see what needs doing anyways. And it's not my way, besides." she says, motioning Rastellion through the gate to look around.
From a brief glance, Rastellion can tell it's a fine property, even if one neglected in recent years. But the flower and vegetable gardens are well tended, and the well house has new singles on its roof. He gestures at the sturdy coop. "Those are some fine looking chickens," he observes.
Lost in her thoughts for a moment, about past days, Rossiath sighs and brushes a single tear away, before turning back to Rastellion. She smiles at the hen coop. "Those are my babies," she says, "I've tended them from hatching and I'm quite pleased with them. Won an award and everything" She turns and look at him, watching his amused expression.
Rastellion nods, strolling around the property a bit more, then moving to the mill. "May I?" he asks, gesturing at the door.
Rossiath follows Rastellion, looking up at the old, creaking blades as they head towards the doorway of the mill. She pulls a set of keys from her pouch and going through them. “Have to keep it locked. Don't want anyone going inside and stealing anything, or hurting themselves."
Stooping to enter the mill, Rastellion begins looking around carefully. He can see what Rossiath means; though the structure's clearly sound, peeling paint and chipped or slightly splintered accouterments reveal the recent years of neglect. Finally, he turns to her. "I don't know much of mills; I'd need someone out here to give me an evaluation. But at least I can give someone a basic description." He steps back outside and waits as she locks it again. "And how much of the property do you mean to sell with it?"
Opens her mouth, then closes it and walks around. "From the water, to the mill itself and ..." Rossiath looks around the yard. Rastellion follows, watching her shape out a portion of the property. “Along the side of the house, and part of the back as well. But they'll not have in front of the house, nor my gardens or my hen-house. And I need access to the waters for cooking and such."
The look on his face is dubious, but he simply nods to her and says, "Mind if I see the house then?"
Rossiath purses her lips, seeing Rastellion's expression. Feeling at a loss, she shrugs her shoulders. "If you'd like, come in and I'll put on some coffee."
"Coffee would be most welcome, thank you." he replies with a smile, following her inside.
With a wave of her hand, Rossiath invites him to look around as she heads to the cupboard, taking out the kettle; filling it at a small barrel of fresh water. "Look around if you wish," she says, "While I get this water heated."
Rastellion nods and looks around the house. In contrast to the mill, the mill-house is snug and very well appointed. ''I can see why you don't want to sell the house,'' he says, admiringly. ''I can tell how much it means to you.”
Settling the kettle down on the fire, Rossiath heads back to the cupboard to pull out two mugs and a small container of dark brown grounds. "Do you take anything in your coffee?" she asks, looking back and watching him thoughtfully for a moment.
“A bit of sugar, please, if you have any; or black is fine, too."
"You know," Rossiath says conversationally, turning back to her work, "Zandrianna has told me a bit about you and that young woman. Quite a bit, actually."
Rastellion blinks. “Oh? She has?”
Rossiath nods and pulls out a small container of brown sugar and starts preparing the coffee for steeping. "Seems to me, that a lovely girl like that needs some stability in her life. Something she can rely on down the road."
“Yes, she had a rough time after her farm was burned, I know. She's not spoken to me about it much. I met her in Bree when she was on her own, right after her guardian - one of the family's old stable hands – died. I think she had some hungry and cold months in there.”
Rossiath listens to him speak, then turns and looks at him. "Let me ask you something. Do you love her?"
Rastellion gapes slightly at her direct question. This nosy old woman! But he finds himself answering, "Yes... And,” he says, hoping to head Rossiath off, “she knows I do. I've told her so."
She pauses, looking carefully at Rastellion, then nods. "I believe you do. And it's obvious the girl adores you. But you know young man, a young woman like that needs more than just words. She needs something stable ... long-term." Rossiath turns back to the coffee, stirring it, before carefully filtering it into a carafe.
Rastellion blinks a few times. Zandrianna really has been talking about his affairs with this woman! “You mean, because I’ve not made any long term commitment?” He shuffles his feet. "I told Immalaine, I wouldn't make any promises or plans until I knew where I'd be settling down, and doing what: whether it be here in Bree, or back up north. Should I have lied to her?"
"And has it ever crossed your mind to ask her if she'd go with you?" Rossiath crumbles some sugar into both mugs, before pouring the coffee on top. "Or were you afraid to ask, afraid of what the answer might be?"
"I'm sure she'd go with me. I just don't know what it'd be going to.” Rastellion replies, frowning slightly. “My father wants us to continue farming north of Trestlebridge, but he's lost his left leg, below the knee, so it'd be on me to do the work. Me, I'd rather stay here, I've got good work for the Association, and I've made some coin for myself too, trading, but pa is set on farming and..." He trails off, conscious that he's babbling slightly. "I've no stability to offer her, yet" he concludes, his voice seeming a bit uncertain now.
With a light snort, she hands him his coffee, then goes to pick up a small container of cream that had been delivered just that morning. She pours a little in her own mug, and stirs it as she considers Rastellion. "Young man, women don't look for stability in things, or jobs, or money - not chiefly. They look for it in people." She shakes her finger at him. "That girl, she's a good one. Kind, gentle, sweet natured. And pretty enough to turn quite a few heads. If she’s not getting stability from you, some other fellow's going to come along and offer it to her. What’s she to think then, if you don’t seem willing to make a commitment, but some other fellow does?” She sips her coffee, watching him think.
Rastellion 's brow creases and he shakes his head. "Immalaine? No, she'd never..." His voice trails off as he remembers a tall stranger talking close with her in Bree, and her loosened bodice, and her odd behavior. He continues, uncertain, "... would she?"
Taking in Rastellion's baffled state, Rossiath gentles her voice. "It's not hard to see the girl loves you. It's up to you to make sure someone else doesn't come along and give her more than just promises and words." She takes pity on his distressed look and changes the subject, "So… what do you think about the mill?”
Rastellion turns, with evident relief, to this new subject. He stirs and sips his coffee, then answers. "About that ... I'll give you my honest opinion; I don't think anyone will buy just the mill, especially not in its current condition." He gestures at the house about them. "Someone might be willing to take that on because of how nice the rest of the property is, but that’s not what you’re offering." He shakes his head. "I doubt you’d be able to get what you need for just the mill
For a moment, Rossiath opens her mouth to argue with him, then, feeling tears start in her eyes, stands and walks over to the trophy she'd earned from a past festival, in honor of her chickens. She brushes it with a fingertip, wondering (not for the first time) why her son had gone and thrown everything away. “I guess I knew that’d be the case,” she says, back to him. “But Zandrianna said you had friends among the merchants and… I hoped …” Her voice trails off.
Rastellion watches her standing by the statue, seeing the affection she has for it, for everything in the house, thinking on her proud carriage stooped by fear of loss… and his heart goes out to her. He turns the mug in his hands, thinking. “I do know some people. I’ll ask Mat Tangleroot – he knows more about land and buildings – to stop by, if that’s agreeable to you.”
“He won’t say different than you, though, will he?” Rossiath replies as she turns, putting on a brave front.
Rastellion opens his free hand, conceding the point. “I… I don’t expect so. But I’m not certain. If nothing else, he can tell you what a fair price is for just the mill, and also for the full property.” He holds up his hand, to forestall her next objection. “If there’s a buyer for just the mill – and at the amount you need to clear your son’s debts – Mat will know who that is. But if not… if not, don’t sell just yet. Let me make some inquiries. There may be a way.”
Rossiath bites her lip, uncharacteristically uncertain, hope warring with discouraged realism. “What is it?”
Rastellion shakes his head. "I don’t want to make any promises. Let’s just say I may have a possibility to explore. Maybe.” He finishes his coffee and sets the mug down on a low table. "Thank you for the coffee, and the tour. I think I'd best head into town; ask at the mayor's office whether I can get them to postpone the sale of Immalaine's property for a few days. Now that we're cutting it so fine." He shakes his head, muttering, "bloody bureaucrats."
Rossiath grimaces in sympathy with him. "I wish you the best of luck with that. They're not looking to help anyone but their own pockets, down there."
Rastellion snorts a laugh. "Well I know that! And I’ll speak to Mat, too, while I’m in town.”
Rossiath moves to the door to let him out. "Get off with you then young man. I have chores to do, anyway."
Rastellion smiles his thanks to her, then heads outside to his waiting horse, his mind already turning both to the upcoming trip, and to Rossiath's words about Immalaine. "Maybe I should promise her more," he murmurs, as he mounts his horse and pats its neck. “I can talk to Immalaine tomorrow night, in the village.” He nods to himself. “Get her away from worrying about Zandrianna, away from all this. That’ll be the right time to talk to her,” he says, determination entering his voice as he urges his horse on towards Bree. “I’ll make sure she’s got no reason to doubt me.”
(Credits and love go to Rastellion, who provided the voice of the male characters in this story. *Blows kisses to Rastellion and grins widely*)
