Another day, another evening.
I helped Ymma out in the shop. Not that there was much to do. Northgyth only kept a few essentials there should anyone require them; eggs, milk and a small variety of vegetables from her garden that would go into the evening’s stewpot if they were not sold. Most of the time I sat and spoke with Ymma about what of her past she would tell. That was quite a lot.
Ethel joined us for a while. She complimented Ymma on her cooking, which pleased her a lot and resulted in her making a batch of her special porridge with fruit and ‘something else’ for us both. I did not go next door to bring Waelden through. He didn’t like porridge. Ymma asked what he did like and Ethel volunteered ‘roast chicken’, so she promised to make a pie with roasted chicken for the evening meal.
Life seemed almost normal to me. But every now and then a pang of pain would hit me, and it seemed that I was still there, at the farm, watching the flames that Dunlending set consume who I was. It was in some ways a mercy that Ethel had dwelt there for only a few months. She had not had enough time to become overly attached to the place. Yet when I thought of her small room there, and of what we had put in it for her, and our plans to nurture her ….. and then climbing out of her window just in time to survive, I had to move on.
True to her word, early in the evening Ymma produced an excellent roasted chicken pie with just a hint of mead about it. After we had eaten, Waelden seemed a little restless.
Now Ymma had spoken a little about the tavern, just a little further on down the road than the garrison. ‘The Roaring Dragon’, she had said, with food almost as good as her own. I thought perhaps it was time Waelden and I paid a visit. After all, it would be a good place to start learning more about our neighbours. Taverns are one of the best places to hear whatever gossip and rumours may abound. I was wondering what the folk of Bancross knew of us, if there was any likelihood of anyone letting it be known we were survivors of that deliberate fire?
Northgyth had invited Ethel to spend an hour or two with her, to talk about cooking and to plan a small area of the further field for target practice. Waelden and I were free to wander as we chose for a time. I suggested the tavern.
Another fine night it was. There were a few rain clouds in the distance, over the mountains, but nothing that suggested we would get drenched. We walked, a little subdued perhaps, though he reached over to take my hand, entwining fingers with mine.
“We have been blessed by Northgyth, but we must not rest too easily. We need to find a place we can make our own, for all three of us.” he said.
“I know. Just a little longer to feel on our feet again… for me to feel that at least, aye?”
He smiled at me. He was more at ease since knowing we had a place to stay at least until midwinter, but it was not the same. It was not a place to make long term plans in. Waelden knew that. And I wondered at what he truly felt about all that had befallen us? After the fire, when we first arrived in Bancross we had clung to each other, and cried a little, and been angry and grateful in measure. And he had blamed himself for what happened, even though he could not have prevented such mindless hate. We had spoken, but always his concern was for Ethel and I. A man who had seen fellow soldiers die, his own men fall …but it was different this time. We were his family.
I squeezed his fingers enough for him to look questioningly at me. “Do not shut me out of your thoughts, Greybeard. If you are planning anything, know I will stand with you whatever it may be.”
“I know you will,” he replied, squeezing my fingers in turn. “I know you will, she-wolf.”
‘Aye, the Dunlending has reduced my past and my dreams to ashes’ I thought then. ‘But I will rise out of the ashes and my dreams, our dreams, will become a fruitful harvest.’
Then we were there. The tavern had a welcoming look. Two horses stood close together in the yard. The building itself was typical of Bancross and in a good state of repair. ‘They must make a decent enough living here,’ I thought. There were two doors, as is common to the style of house. On the mat outside the closest door lay a large black hound. He raised his head as we approached, watched us with bright, alert eyes, barked twice then yawned and went back to gnawing at a bone with some difficulty..
“That one’s bark is worse than his bite,” I pointed out, nodding towards the hound. “He only has three teeth.”
Suspecting the dog guarded the door to the proprietor’s dwelling, we made for the further door.
“So, this is the Roaring Dragon,” Waelden said. “Sounds quiet enough so far.”
“It’s for the guards mostly, as you already know. Ymma says some evenings a few men from nearby villages drop in as well.”
Waelden gave me a look that said ‘I wonder what that’s about?’
“But Ymma said the place is friendly.” I added. “They welcome all who are not...eh looking for trouble.”
“Let’s hope so, or this tavern visit will be a short one.” Holding open the door, Waelden looked inside before nodding to me to enter. “It’s quiet.”
I stepped through the doorway and looked around. It was a small tavern, right enough, but it had a warm and unhurried feel about it. There was a hearth fire in the far corner, and a fire pit nearer the centre of the room. Two tables had chairs around them, all of plain wooden styles. To the right was a bar, with a small amount of food set out. Cold sliced meat, some dishes of hazelnuts, and a couple of baskets of bread. At the rear of the bar were several casks, and plenty of mugs. Mounted deer heads, and antlers were on most of the walls, but the prize trophy was over the bar, the mounted wyrm’s head, or ‘dragon’.
Two men sat at the table near the fire, each with a mug in front of them, and a pipe in their mouth. Both looked as if they had seen better days, but they were off duty and at ease. Behind the bar was a woman in her late thirties perhaps? She had a fuller figure, shown off by the green dress with a laced bodice she wore. Her reddish blonde hair was piled on her head with a wide comb, though tendrils of hair had escaped and seemed to be somewhat in her eyes. Her expression was one of curiosity, and welcome. But behind that she appeared very much in charge here, I thought.
“I wonder if they serve meals in the evening?” I asked Waelden in a soft voice.
“I can go without anything after that hearty meal Ymma cooked. Just an ale will do me.”
“Aye, but I have to ask if they do roast chicken,” I grinned. “Just in case we bring Ethel.”
He grinned too, then took a second look around the place, nodding a quiet greeting to the two guards.
“Don’t stand there dawdling, you folk. Come in. Take a seat.” The man nearest the fire removed his pipe a moment, and called over to us.
“We are on our way, good sir. Just taking in the atmosphere,” Waelden replied.
I waved in turn to the men. “Well met! We are just wanting a couple of ales I think. But we will soon take a seat.”
The man nodded and returned to his pipe. I turned to Waelden. “ A quiet night!”
“Perfect for me. I am not in any party mood today, after all. Some peace and quiet, an ale or two, that will do just fine. And I like this place. It’s well ordered and comfy.”
“Good evening to you. How can I help?” The musical voice of the woman at the bar was addressed to us.
Looking at her then I noticed she had a merry smile .. and curious eyes.
“Good evening to you!” Waelden addressed her first. “We are new in the village, as you likely know. What do you have on offer?”
Her eyes lingered a moment on Waelden in a manner that made me curious. It was almost as if she was assessing him for something. Then she shook her head and looked at me.
“Your wife?” she still addressed Waelden, though her tone was one of confirming a suspicion.
“His woman,” I stated. “And I will have a mug of ale.”
She nodded. It was no challenge to me. And I wonder what exactly she had been thinking?
“And you, dear?” I asked him.
“A simple ale will do for me. The colder the better.” He was looking at the casks.
“And as for what we have on offer, well as you can see we have plenty of ale. Mostly local brews though we do get an occasional shipment from Edoras. And we have mead, and a bottle of wine.” The woman chuckled openly. “Wine isn’t that popular here.”
Turning his attention back to her, Walden said “I may be interested in a mead later, but wine is for fine dinners and courtly halls, I say.”
“Right you are, sir. And you’re new to Bancross you say. Very new, I warrant.” The woman moved to a keg tap, filling two large mugs to the brim.
Waelden nodded in return, moving to rest his elbows on the bar as he conversed. “Aye, my name is Waelden and this (he turned momentarily to me) is Yllfa. We live at Lady Northgyth’s place for now.”
“Just Yllfa. I am no lady.” I added with a grin.
“Well in that case I am just Hild. Hildfrith in full, but I like to keep things simple.” She grinned in turn. It was a pleasant expression, almost a friendly one.
Laying two coins on the bar in exchange for the drinks, Waelden reached for a mug, as did I.
“Oh, that’s too much, Waelden,” Hild nodded at the coins. “We are a simple tavern here. Guards and travellers mostly, looking for a cheap but good enough meal and drink. That will cover four ales, and some.”
“Then keep it, for I will surely have another after this glass is drained.” Waelden looked to me, to see if I wanted anything else. I shook my head, but added I too may want a second ale later. He raised his mug to Hild.
Now I had met quite a few women similar to Hild. Most were kindly and well meaning, though had an eye on making a little profit as they went. Some could keep confidences, many could not. I wasn’t sure which type Hild was yet. Her original interest in Waelden concerned me. It wasn’t that of a woman with an eye for any man who walked into her establishment. It was something else. But whatever it was, she was no longer pursuing it, it seemed. There was an idea forming in my mind, but I thought this was not the time or place to speak of it.
