((Notes: This story was written for amusement at Christmas. It is IC in the form of visions. It is a spoof of, and inspired by A Christmas Carol‘ by Charles Dickens, and just as much by The Muppet Christmas Carol by Jerry Juhl and directed by Brian Henson .
The story contains some references to the earlier story, An All-Hallows Eve Dream
Written in collaboration by the players of Waelden and Yllfa. The banner and screenshots for all parts of the story were taken and edited by the player of Waelden.))
Laden with extra supplies from Northgyth, Hildfrith pushed her way through the crowd spilling out of the door of the Roaring Dragon. A chilly draft followed her inside, and it lingered in the air like a cold blanket before the warmth from the kitchen and the fireplaces had worked their magic upon her little tavern.
Yes, she was pleased to see the place so busy!
Yes, she would be glad when this night was over.
“Bronaa, more pies to make. Hurry up girl, we can’t keep our customers waiting!”
Somewhere behind the bar her daughter, Brona, raised a hand.
“Mama, can you please come and help out!”
‘Useless girl, Hild thought uncharitable, and a bit uncharacteristically. Usually she regarded Brona as rather capable and resistant to the stress of a busy night. More like herself than her father. But on this busy evening Brona was her father’s daughter; lazy, slow witted, and clumsy. What had gotten into the girl, she wondered.
“No I can’t!” she shouted back over a laughing throng consisting mostly of all off duty guards, all cheering and raising their tankards high to this night of merriment. “Can’t you see I have my hands full already?”
At that moment a tall, broad shouldered man took the bags of flour and salt from her. He took the box filled with eggs under one arm, and grinned. “Season’s greetings to you Hild. It’s going to be a lovely clear night by the looks of things. We will all be able to see the stars…. And perhaps even make a wish?”
Hild recognised Heard, the assistant smith of the garrison, but merely muttered under her breath. “A lot of nonsense and hogwash. Just help me get these things into the kitchen if you will, or we will soon run out of steak and ale pies for all the hungry men with coin in their pockets.”
The good natured smith chuckled and did as asked. “I know all this must be tiring for you, what with Seldis away, and Ethel not being able to help and all, but season’s greetings to you anyway!”
Hild picked up a cleaning cloth from the bar and swatted at a retreating Heard, who just went back to mingle merrily among the others.
In the kitchen itself there were two racks of pies Brona had already made, all eagerly waiting to be put into the open oven and into the searing heat. There were several plates of sliced venison and boar waiting to go out to customers, and still a half side of venison to be carved and put on the plates. A cauldron of pig tale broth hung over the fire pit. The room was sweltering hot from cooking, and the many smells and scents made everyone even more hungry, as it seeped out into the tavern.
Swiftly removing the shawl from about her head and shoulders, and the gloves from her hands, Hild went to see what needed doing most urgently. She would work hard of course, but she expected the same of others, particularly Brona, and any she employed. For a moment Hild halted. Was she working Brona too hard? The girl was usually a good and willing help to her, both in the kitchen and with the livestock. Maybe it was the influence of Ethel that was altering her? Hild appreciated Ethel’s help with cooking from time to time but she hadn’t felt quite at ease with the girl since…..oh..since….never mind. At least Waeldez, eh Waelden and Yllfa hadn’t frequented the tavern recently. Perhaps that was for the best, too.
Snapping back to the work at hand, she could hear a bit of a commotion in the bar itself. Not angry voices exactly… and then she remembered… or rather she remembered what she shouldn’t have forgotten.
“Where’s Hild?” A gruffer voice was calling out, with two more mumbling in agreement as their voices drowned in the chatter.
“My mama is in the kitchen, cooking.” Brona’s voice sounded out as strongly as she could manage.
“Well she should be here!” the loudest man stated. “We didn’t ride all the way from Middlemead for a mere drink alone.”
Wiping her hands clean on her apron, which lay over the back of a chair still, Hild ran a hand over her hair to make sure it was tidy and somewhat respectable, then she breezed back into the main room with an almost flamboyant wave of her arms. “Hild is here, my darlings!” She nodded to the stairs to the cellar. “Come and talk down here.”
Away from prying eyes and ears, Hild had to make what apology she could to the wanting men.
“The ‘club’ is on every other week,” the grumbly man insisted. His two companions nodded as if all three were joined together. “Ceadda here has been training, and we have the coin to wager a grand sum.”
Ceadda made an attempt to look threatening, or fighting fit, or like a bear or something. Hild scoffed and waved her hand dismissively. She was not impressed.
“This is midwinter’s eve. Surely you know the tavern cannot host any ‘meetings’ this night.”
“Surely you could have sent word out to the villages,” the spokesman said.
Hild placed her hands on her hips. “Stay and drink and eat, it’s on the house, or go. Captain Denholm will be here shortly, (she lied) and if he thinks you are troublemakers you will be out of Bancross faster than you can wink an eye.”
There was an exchange of words between the men over who Denholm was.
“He is just as bad as Sergeant Thilwend. In fact she may come as well!” Hild continued to lie.
That did it. The men didn’t want any confrontation with the Wyrm Slayer, or with a equally severe new captain. They each took some of the sliced meat, and a mug of ale, and then left with disappointment upon their faces, but at least they kept their mouths shut. Those cold, heavy coins would’ve felt good in her pocket though, Hild thought. Just not this night, but there would be many more to come.
And that was it, Hild thought. Back to the kitchen and keeping the customers happy, drunk and satisfied. Even so, Hild was angry with herself, and her inner thoughts betrayed her lust and secret desires. She had built up a thriving trade through the ‘Club’, and didn’t want any bad rumours getting round. It was lost coin. It was lost business.
Back in the kitchen she worked herself hard, and Brona even harder having the girl serve and cook. She was younger and had more energy. She could manage it all, and more.
The crowd began to thin a little as the night drew on and the stars grew even brighter above the inn. While the cold took over the outside, the atmosphere inside continued to be warm, merry, celebratory. Folk were talking about their wishes for the new year… ’A new horse for pulling the plow’, ‘A better crop next year’, ‘The old Miller's daughter to notice him’, all that sort of everyday thing that folk thought of, hoped and wished for to better their lives. Hild had no intention of wishing on a star, but all the same she did think of something. She had dreams as a young girl. Surely there was more to life than this existence she currently had? If only there was something more to have? Fame and fortune? Riches in abundance?
Her thoughts scattered as a cold wind went through the tavern, and the creaking sound of the front door opening. She paid it no mind at first, thinking it to be just another customer, but soon there was a small group of men standing by the open door, she noticed. It seemed an old woman was there and asking to come inside. Her voice was thin and weak, and barely hearable through the crowd. The men smiled kindly to the old woman, and one of them laid a hand on her shoulder in comfort as he ushered her into the warmth of the Dragon.
Brona quickly headed over with a remaining platter of meat and a little bread.
“Here you go, old mother Agnes, have this. None should go hungry on a night like this.”
“Wait just a moment!” Hild’s voice soared over the others. “This is no place for beggars and freeloaders. Do you have coin, Agnes?” she asked the woman with a stern and demanding voice.
One of the men was now holding the frail woman’s arm, trying to support her. Her feet could be seen through the coverings that served as shoes. Her toes had a hint of blue from the cold. A thin olive coloured cloak was wrapped about her, once her husband’s or son’s perhaps. Her face was thin and lined, but her eyes twinkled with hope, and she managed a faint but honest smile with the few teeth she still had left at Brona.
“Come on Hild, let her in for the night,” he said.
But Hild had had enough of the day. “No. I’ll have no beggars here, or we will have half of Edoras at our doorstep, asking for the same.”
“But mama, the men who came for the figh...the club got free food and...”
Brona didnt finish her sentence. Hild glared at her and pointed to the back room. “To the kitchen, girl. Finish serving, and when all customers have left you can scrub the kitchen and the floors.”
“But mama, I am exhausted. I’ve been working all day.”
Hild pointed to the kitchen again, and Brona lowered her head and did as she was told.
There was the sound of a few coins being thrown to the floor. Heard stood there, his face a mask of disbelief as he eyed Hild. “There, Hild. It is enough coin for a platter of meat and then some. I never thought I would see you turn away someone in need. We should be hospitable to all, particularly in this winter season.”
Heard wrapped his strong, large arm around the shivering woman to share his warmth with her as her smile faded. He made sure she had hold of the bread and meat, and said to her with a comforting voice: ‘You can sleep in the Armoury this night, Agnes. The forge will still be warm, there are thick blankets and I will feed the fires more if need be. And I will see what I can do to bring you warmer clothes and shoes in the morning. Worry not, you’ll be safe there.”
With that he left, and most of the group dispersed. Some were still merry, a few were frowning, seeming of like mind to Heard, while others muttered about beggars and vagrants who only want things for free.
“That was ill-done of you Hild, even if you have a point. Remember the curse of Wyrgende!” one older guard said, as he left and slammed the door shut behind him.
‘A large crowd, no helpers, but fighters and beggars, and now a curse,’ Hild all but threw up her hands in resignation. What had she done to deserve this, on this very night? Well, with Brona still at work, and then locking up, it was past time she took care of herself for once. “I am going to bed!” she called to her daughter, as she headed for the door. “By tomorrow I expect a clean kitchen and floors."
