The afternoon sun was just past its pinnacle in the sky and on its way descending towards the horizon when it paused to shed light on the hard-working town of Trestlebridge. It brought forth sweat from the necks of carpenters sawing down lumber, glinted against the swords of guards practicing combat, and illuminated the anxious faces of mothers trying to feed their children with little in their larders. Creeping onto a small patch of grass not too far from the stable, the sun shined its rays on the needlework of a young woman sitting on a small mat in front of her simple tent. Perhaps it recognized a certain companionship with the woman’s golden hair, for it would linger there all the hours until twilight, shedding enough daylight for the woman to finish her work on the quilt in her lap.
Ellany, though, seemed to hardly notice what her fingers were up to, let alone give enough thought to be thankful towards the sun. Her blank stare into the distance and the alternate pressing and quirking of her lips signaled that her mind was knitting up its own fabric of ideas. Fragments of these thoughts slipped through her lips and out into the open air occasionally: “Food, clothes, and blankets…donations…from Bree…lumber from Combe…reduced prices from vendors in exchange for free passage up to Trestlebridge…then…” She let her hands, with needle and quilt in tow, fall onto her lap as she sighed, seemingly reaching some sort of block in her thoughts.
Ellany suddenly wished her father was there to consult. His years of experience and keen business acumen would have been invaluable right now as she turned the Trestlebridge predicament around and around in her mind. Her conversation with Miss Taala and Mister Eroforth the previous evening had given her more ideas on how to help Trestlebridge than she had bargained for – more ideas, but not more answers. Originally, she was going to contract a business agreement with them. Using their interest in coin to her advantage, she was going to pay them to escort her wagon to Bree and, in exchange, ask them to bring their own ale or even spend some of their money to transport ale for the townsfolk who had little to spare. She had thought it a practical solution to replenish the ale, which, according to Don and Miss Nettie, seemed to be disappearing thanks to the mercenaries.
However, upon discussion with Miss Taala and Mister Eroforth, she had learned that they were bringing most of their own supplies and pouring their money into the Soot and Stain for access to ale, which was being provided to the establishment at a fairer price than most merchants might set by some Mister Seaver. They were not as thieving as the people in town seemed to suspect and not as dangerous as Corrben seemed to warn. She saw on their faces that the mercenaries really were trying to help. They offered to escort her donations free of any charge, they spent their own coin to buy whatever the locals offered them, they guarded refugees down to Bree, and they even negotiated a fair price to bring lumber from Combe. But as Mister Eroforth had explained, they still had to earn their living; they couldn’t ask their men to toil and risk their lives without pay.
Ellany’s brows came together. There, was the limiting factor and the point down to which all her plans had to come: coin. It was the gate through which all her proposals must either pass or shrivel and die. Her mind had conjured up all sorts of possibilities all morning as her fingers stitched the edging of the quilt in her hand – she could buy supplies from Bree and distribute them all in Trestlebridge for free; she could take any extra wares from the craftsmen here and sell them to the people in Bree, giving all profits back to the craftsmen; she could hire carpenters and stone masons from Bree to come rebuild the houses that burnt down in the fire…Yet all of these required coin.
She had grown up fortunate enough to live comfortably provided by her father’s business all her life. For the most part, she could do as she liked, invest in whatever pleased her, and hardly disturb her father’s hard-earned income. But rebuilding a town…these ideas would bleed her household dry. No matter how much she wanted to help, she could not freely give life to the designs that were in her mind that afternoon. Yet, she was disgruntled by the thought of accepting payment from the townsfolk whom she was trying to assist. This was where she wished her father could help her most. He would be able to assess and cut through these complications successfully and reach a conclusion that would help Trestlebridge grow and still save on the expenses that would invariably come from doing so.
Realizing that her hands had grown idle as she thought, Ellany picked up her needlework again. Miss Charlotte had many quilts that she had patterned and started this year. They only needed to be stitched around the edges to finish, and these she had given to Ellany while she would set to work beginning new quilts in Bree. This way, the quilts wouldn’t have to wait until Ellany’s next trip back to Bree, to be given to the Trestlebridge folk. It was how they usually worked together anyway, and it allowed them to finish quickly.
Now that she thought of it, there wasn’t much that changed to their household productivity or expenses whether she was at home or here in Trestlebridge. The money Miss Charlotte usually spent on buying food for Ellany could be saved and spent to purchase meals from the people here instead. She didn’t work and earn a wage from the Town Hall anymore, but she had quite a bit saved up. This, she could use to pay the stablehand to care for her two horses, Thistle and Fern, who would pull the wagon back and forth between the two towns. Thus, it would hardly cost her household if she could at least serve as a means of transportation, buying and selling goods in Bree on behalf of the people in Trestlebridge at no profit to herself. She could even try to negotiate with a few of her father’s friends and business partners in Bree to offer her a lowered price for their goods.
Her needle began to delve into and resurface from the quilt fabric as her thoughts flowed rapidly onward, having made some progression on the matter of coin. As soon as she was done, she could try and find Miss Nettie and Corrben to see what they thought of her plans. She also now needed to hurry and finish all of the quilts before she left for Bree, since she would have just as much work cut out for her there as she did here in Trestlebridge.
