He collected his pay for the week, wiping at the sweat on his furrowed brow, his skin reddened from that sun. The chestnut colt cantered around in the corral, Aldfryd pausing to watch him. He spoke to his boss, his voice deep and soft, "That one's nervous, but he's coming along. Needs a bit more time than the others."
The owner of the stable counted out the coins, "I hope so, he's worth enough. I'd hate to have him be a waste. I'll pay you for that one once he's broke to the saddle. If you don't get it done tomorrow, Harold will break him."
Aldfryd furrowed his brow, "No need for that. It'll just make it worse."
"Most horses are trained that way, and no harm done," his boss replied airily, handing him the coins, "As long as they stay tractable for their owners, the methods mean little."
The tall redhaired man stayed silent and glanced at the nervous colt trotting back and forth, he was spooked as a foal and never recovered but from what incident, Aldfryd did not know. He did know that a rough hand would ruin the horse, break any of his spirit and leave him a shell of a beast. He would have to get him gentled for it would pain him greatly to see that happen. The northerners did not know horses as his people did, even though the breed up here was not Mearas descended they were still sensitive creatures.
Taking his money, he passed by the corral, the chestnut colt flicking his ears, paying attention to the tall lean man. He murmured to the steed and the horse pricked his ears, taking a few steps towards Aldfryd.
"That one will be a damn hard ride."
The colt snorted and bolted from the sudden loud voice, Harold's unexpected appearance sending the young horse trotting to the other side of the corral. He smacked his hard hand on the taller man's shoulder, "Leave 'im to me, I'll break that stubborn bastard."
Aldfryd turned and stared at him, "I've still got tomorrow."
Harold smirked, chewing a stalk of hay, "Don't waste your time. Lemme buck him til he breaks, then he'll be gentle as a lamb."
He furrowed his brow at that, anger sparking deep in the dark blue depths of his eyes. "I have until tomorrow."
"Right," Harold spit to the side, "Enjoy your night on the town. Pay day."
He glanced at the coins still gripped in Aldfryd's hand and gave him a knowing look. It was the same every Highday, the pay would come and the man would borrow a horse and go to town. For a man who claimed to prefer his own company, there were times he craved being around people. Then he would remember why he disliked it but by that time the drink was on him and luckily the horses knew their own way home.
Aldfryd walked quietly to the bar, the scent of horse and hay lingering around him. He made a wide berth around the musicians and dancers, hardly looking in their direction. He leans on the bar, rumbling to the barkeeper, "I'd like a stout and a whiskey."
The chatter battled with the sound of plucking lute strings and high piping flutes. He cringed slightly and paid the barman. Aldfryd collected his drinks, knocking back the whiskey first, setting the small glass back and then took a long drink from his mug. He turned and leaned on the barrel for a moment, looking past the musicians, staring at the lintel above the door.
He noticed banter between a young woman who eyed a man not much younger than himself with great interest, speaking with a coquettish voice and batting her eyelashes in a fetching manner. The man was not fetched and merely got a refill, leaving the girl to stand alone. She was fair enough, with the look of a local but Aldfryd turned away as well, drinking deeply, pushing a tangle of chestnut hair from his eyes.
He noted the girl downing her drinking and walking out the door, likely disappointed but Aldfryd thought it for the best, as the older man had a woman waiting for him by the fire. He promptly forgot the small drama, drinking the dark ale.
He watched as more people enter and frowned, the lines of his gaunt face deepening and he moved away from the crowd and noise.
"I think this tavern is where a lot o' things begin," one man was saying to another, both already flushed with ale and watching the women in bright dresses dance. The people passed around foaming mugs and found partners or pranced around alone in swaying circles. The singers brayed loudly and Aldfryd found himself missing the sounds of the music of his own land. He watched the comings and goings of people meeting and leaving, eating and drinking from the corner of his eye as he sat in the corner.
Aldfryd finished his beer, wiping a few drops from his short beard and glanced around, noting the lack of barmaids he stood to go back to the bar for a refill.
The crowd near the bar laughed and talked loudly, their eyes flashing with merriment. Young girls almost too young to be in a tavern giggled and held hands, dancing in a circle as another played a lute in a upbeat rhythm.
Aldfryd leaned in, speaking in a deep, quiet voice to the barkeeper, "Just make it the bottle, forget the glass."
He picked up the whiskey bottle and went back to find a quiet corner. His gaze drifted back to the girls dancing and the men laughing, drinking in companionship. Aldfryd took a long pull from bottle, grimacing slightly as the fiery liquid burned a path through his chest.
Aldfryd took another long drink, closing his eyes for a moment, willing the liquor to do it's work. Another bard showed up and bowed to the girl with the lute, taking her place.
The dark haired girl with the lute skipped outside, calling behind her, "Who'd like to hear some more songs, I'm playin' outside!"
Aldfryd took another drink and glanced with annoyance at the growing noise. He stood up, his legs still steady after all the drink and made his way towards the door. He passed the knot of people and the man playing the harp now. Exiting the tavern, he stomped down the stairs, the half full whiskey bottle still in his hand. He caught sight of the girls and other revelers, carousing near the fountain and made a sharp turn to the south. He fetched his horse from the stable, but rather than ride he walked with the mare, she staying at his shoulder.
Aldfryd wandered around Bree, drinking from his bottle, his steps becoming ever more wobbling. He wandered down the cobblestone road, finding his way towards the small town of Combe nearby. Passing under the stone arch, he hummed to himself, hardly noticing the setting sun, the grey mare never wandering far from his side. He spotted the tavern, the largest building in Combe and made a beeline to it. After paying the stable boy some copper to feed the mare, he tromped up the wooden stairs and entered the dark building.
Inside, bits of hay was strewn all over and a couple of chickens pecked around. There was a man at the bar, sitting with a large hound and he was speaking to the young woman. He was dark haired and bearded, his clothing reeked of the forest and wet fur. Aldfryd recognized the young woman from the Pony and blinked, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him already.
Kalf looked over to her, his eyes moving up and down her. "Joah."
Rosibelle raised her eyebrows. "You gonna eventually tell me what that means?"
Aldfryd bumped open the door, the nearly empty bottle clutched in his hand. He was at least relieved to see much quieter room than the one he left, his dark blue eyes burning behind a fall of lank red hair.
The hunter nodded, the gesture indicating his answer, "Joah means.."
Rosibelle laughed. "What else are you hungry for, then?" she asked, slightly amused.
Aldfryd tried to stand tall, walking in almost a straight line towards the empty tables and slumped down onto a stool.
Kalf looked over to the man who entered before he looked back, grinning slightly, "More pie."
Rosibelle smiled a bit. She turned around and went back into the room, before coming out with another large slice. "That all, hm?" she asked, before glancing over at the man who entered also.
Aldfryd set the almost empty bottle down and stared at it, leaning in closer to study the last remnants of amber liquid at the bottom.
Kalf scratched his beard, before he whistled over to his hound who stood up and padded over. "Some meat for him, joah?"
Rosibelle peered over the counter and down at the hound. She nodded, once more going into the room. She came back out with a wooden bowl and went around the counter, bending over to put the bowl down, which contained strips of venison.
Kalf watched her as he took a few gulps from his mead. His hound started to wag its tail at the mention of meat, looking to the woman returning with the bowl before he sat down obediently.
Aldfryd muttered under his breath and then took up the bottle, throwing his head back to finish off the last of it. He smacked it down, shoving it away and glanced over at the pair for brief moment before staring at the wall. The girl seemed to be ignoring him, perhaps in favor of talking with the strapping young hunter or maybe she recognized him as well, and thought he was following her as she had with the man at the bar.
Rosibelle patted the hound's head before she went back around the counter. "That'll do you, then?"
Aldfryd finally looked over at the young woman, staring through her for a moment before clearing his throat.
Kalf looked down to the hound, and spoke a simple word. "Wilþan." He nodded his head before the hound wagged his tail and started to eat. He then looked about to speak before the man cleared his throat, and he went silent.
Rosibelle looked over when she heard the man, and she drifted over to him with a bright smile. "Anything I can get you, hm?" she asked, leaning her hip on the table.
Aldfryd looked up slowly, breathing through his nose, "Ale. Before I die of thirst."
Rosibelle motioned to his bottle, saying in a sweet tone. "Sorry. Usually, it's considered rude to bring another's drink into a place for drinking." she winked and went back to the counter to fix the ale.
Rosibelle took a mug to the keg, filling it to the top.
Aldfryd grunted at that, pushing back a sweaty strand of hair. His eyes followed her as she went to get the mug. Perhaps it was but the bottle was nearly done, and it was not as if he was not going to buy more. Until his coin ran low or he passed out. Whichever came first. He said nothing more, his thoughts muddled already.
Rosibelle sauntered back over to him, placing the mug down on the table. "Anything else I can get you, darling?"
Aldfryd reached into his pocket and took a few coins out, putting them on the table, "No." The lean man picked up the mug and drank from it, grimacing and looking down at the liquid but voiced no complaint.
Rosibelle took the coins and went back to the bar. "You heading out already, hm?" she asked with a pout on her lips.
Aldfryd took a deep drink, staring at the wall, looking occasionally at the dirty mugs. The soft chatter of the pair and faint clucking of the chickens were tolerable and the tension in his shoulders started to relax. He could hear them speaking of some place called Mirkwood and the man's accent was strange to his ears.
Another man came in, with reddish hair and tall like himself. Aldfryd perked up when he heard the man greet the barmaid. The hunter and his hound soon left, exchanging farewells with both the girl and the Rohirrim man. She asked him what he wanted to drink and he replied, "Mead."
Aldfryd glances over at the newcomer, taking in his appearance and looks away, draining his mug. He looks down at the wooden table, his eyes bleary. The accent burned in his ears and he sank down, his shoulders drawing up as if to hide himself in plain view.
She busied herself as she fixed the man's mead, before she brought another ale over to the man sitting. "You're looking rough tonight, yeah."
Helmyr met his lips with the iron tankard and began to drink slowly. Wiping his mouth rudely, he mumbled, ''This mead is better than the other, mhm....''
Aldfryd set down his empty mug. His mouth watered for the familiar sweet taste of mead, it had been long since he dared order it, it reminded him so much of home. Of the mead hall where it poured like golden nectar and he sat at the long table with his men as they feasted the safe return from patrol. Fair haired women serving platters of meat and songs sung in deep voices echoed. He blinked as he heard the girl approached, the sound of the mug being left on the table made him glance up slowly. She had already turned and gone, speaking to the man at the bar.
She smiled at Helmyr, tilting her head. "Need another, hun?"
Helmyr said, 'Aye, yes please.."
Aldfryd grunted, picking up the sour ale. He tried to force his thoughts from the past and focused on the chestnut colt. He furrowed his brow, he knew he was drunk already and he should stop, he needed to be able to focus on the horse as it was his last chance before Harold would get a hold of him. But the mead called, it beckoned with glorious memories of ringing steal and galloping across the Wold. Of songs sung by the giant hearths and the warm hand of a woman on his face.
Rosibelle fixed another mead and set it in front of him. She leaned on the bar. "I don't think you ever told me your name, hm?" she said, grinning.
Helmyr cleared his throat and said, ''Helmyr is my name, and I suppose you didn't tell yours either.''
Rosibelle tilted her head. "I didn't tell you my name? How surprising, you are -far- too good looking for me to forget such a thing! I'm Rosibelle, though."
Helmyr said, "Thank you for your nice words. Rosibelle sounded quite poetical to my ear."
Aldfryd set down the mug of ale, glancing at the other man from under a fall of unkempt hair, his eyes registering a mixture of interest and wariness.
Rosibelle leaned against the bar. "Is there anything at all I can get for you, deary?"
Helmyr shook his head, looking abit drunk ''Nay, I fine...so ya work here?"
Rosibelle raised her eyebrows. "It appears so, yes."
Aldfryd snorted a bit at the man's clumsy efforts and went back to his ale, the hops flavor rapidly losing its appeal as he recalled mead. The honey wine was home and the swill in the cup was his reality.
Helmyr looked around and says, ''Looks like you need more staff.''
Rosibelle gestured around the near empty room. "For what? All these customers?"
Helmyr grinned, "For these empty barrels and the chicken behind me."
Aldfryd finished the ale in two gulps and clunked it down, casting a glance at the barmaid.
Rosibelle scolded him, "Hey! You leave Benedict alone!"
Rosibelle heard the clunk and fixed another ale, bringing it over to the man. "You gonna talk to me this time, hm?"
Aldfryd looked up at her, his gaze just over her shoulder. "A mead."
Rosibelle raised her eyebrows. "Oh, hm?" She took up the ale and went back to fix his mead.
Rosibelle brought the mead back to him and placed it on the table before returning to the bar. She returned back to Aldfryd when she heard him, leaning her hip against the table. "Something else I can get for you, darling?"
Aldfryd watched her and cleared his throat. He nodded once, speaking in a low voice, "Yes."
Rosibelle raised her eyebrows. "What could that be?"
Aldfryd glanced at the chicken and then up at her, "That is a hen."
Rosibelle replied, 'That hen prefers if you call her Benedict."
Aldfryd looked at it once more and then at her, his eyes already bloodshot, "That hen is confused."
Rosibelle frowned at him, leaning over to whisper loudly. "That is just rude. She can hear you, you know!" She then turned around and stomped back to the counter. She went back to refill the other man's mug and they chattered about quality of service and drink at the two main taverns. Aldfryd took a sip of his mead, a sigh heaving in his chest. He took a larger gulp and leaned forward, resting on his elbows.
His attention returned to their discussion when he heard her say, "Everyone loves a gorgeous barmaid serving them."
Helmyr said, raising his mug, "I'll second that."
Rosibelle grinned, leaning on the bar. "'Pecially if the customers are also gorgeous."
Aldfryd downs the mead, pushing himself up from the table, his legs a bit unsteady and he turns to head towards the door.
Helmyr took a large gulp and flexed his arms, ''Thanks, Rosi...''
Rosibelle looked him over, glancing up at Aldfryd as he left. She smiled brightly at him with a wave goodbye. Helmyr turned his glance to the man who was much more drunk than himself.
Aldfryd weaved towards the door, already unlacing his trousers. He stepped outside, standing at the edge of the porch and took a much needed piss off the side, sighing with relief. It was dark and no one was about, thankfully the guard that usually stood a post was gone. He thought about the young barmaid, how many had he known in the small hamlets and towns across the Mark, some quite similar to the Breeland girl. His thoughts strayed away from that as he finished. He tucked himself in and went back, stumbling slightly on a warped board and grabbed the door. The redheaded man wandered back in, his eyes shining like wet glass in the fire light.
Rosibelle watched him in amusement, looking back up at Aldfryd when he returned. He went to a chair near the hearth and sat down, leaning back, his long legs extended as he stared at the fire. Finally he looked up, "Miss."
Rosibelle looked over at the man, motioning for Helmyr to wait a moment before she walked over to him. "Hm?"
Aldfryd looked up at her, his eyes swimming and narrows his gaze to focus on her freckled face, "Another mead."
Rosibelle nodded and went back to the bar to make his mead. She returned it to him, giving a vivid smile. "If there is anything else, at all, that you need just call me, hm?" she went back to the counter again.
Aldfryd took the mug and sniffed it, glancing at her as she left and began to sip the mead, humming under his breath in a baritone, a slow and rhythmic snatch of a song. He swirled his mead, looking into the pale gold liquid.
Helmyr called out, 'Go on brother, you sing well!"
Rosibelle grinned, leaning on the counter looking in the tall redhaired man's direction.
Aldfryd looked up sharply at him and muttered a slurred, "It is nothing. I'm no skald."
Helmyr spoke loudly, ''I am!''
Rosibelle looked between the two and finished wiping the mugs. "Well, it was nice meeting you two, but my work is done for the day!"
Aldfryd hummed to himself again, a deep intoning sound of a song Helmyr would recognize. A dirge that stirred the hearts of Eorlings and called them to glorious battle on green fields.
Aldfryd looked up at the young woman about to leave and then heaved himself from the chair, making his way over to the bar. "I'll settle my tab."
Rosibelle smiled warmly at him, looking him over. "Alright."
Aldfryd counted out a coins, looking down at them to make sure they are correct and looked at her, "This will cover it?" He put the money on the counter in front of her.
Rosibelle nodded and took the coins. "It will."
Aldfryd glanced at her and nodded, muttering almost inaudibly, "Good night." He looked at Helmyr warily, and then staggered back to his chair.
Rosibelle collected her bag and then quietly left the Inn. Helmyr looked into the fire with blurry eyes. His pale figure gets enlightened with the flames but he said nothing to Aldfryd to which the other man was grateful.
He leaned back in his chair, his last bit of mead still in his mug before standing up, leaning heavily on the wooden chair and finished off his drink. He looked at the stranger, giving him a nod before turning on his heel and meandering to the door. His footsteps heavy on the wooden boards, he nearly fell down the stairs. Finding the grey mare in the darkness, Aldfryd heaved himself onto back, leaving the reins loose. The mare started off down the road, her long years of traveling back and forth between the towns of Bree and the farm told her where to go, her inner sense guiding her and bringing the nearly unconscious man back to the stable.
