A Story for the Innkeeper

A Story for the Innkeeper

Postby Dulcie » Mon Apr 01, 2013 1:05 pm

Spring was a quiet time for the Dagger. While the regular patrons came and went as they pleased the steady crowd of farmers had dwindled down to just about nothing. It was a busy time in a farming community. A time when the baby animals were birthed, and seed was carefully inspected, ready to be planted as soon as the earth had warmed enough for them to be planted. It was quiet, and quiet was exactly what Dulcie liked.

All the bread had been baked, the linens in the rooms upstairs were clean and the innkeeper had decided to take a much needed break. She had poured herself an ale, propped her feet up on an empty chair and had just started enjoying the silence when she heard the creak of the stairs from the porch outside. Generally Dulcie prided herself on knowing the footfalls of just about every person in town and while she heard the tapping sound of a cane or walking stick, she knew immediately by the shuffling sound of the feet that it wasn't Councilor Berdini. She spent the next few minutes trying to figure out just who else in town came around the Dagger using a cane, but her curiousity was soon answered as the door was slowly pulled open and an old woman stepped inside. She was a sight to see certainly, wearing a threadbare coat and a skirt that seemed to be made of a patchwork of many different fabrics.

Dulcie immediately leapt to her feet, coming to catch the door for the old woman.

"Oh there. Welcome to the Dagger. Do you need some help getting in?" She asked carefully, watching as the woman hobbled past her, offering a hand out to the old woman if she wanted it.

"Nay lass. I been gettin' around this tavern fer months now an' I've been doin' just fine. Good o' ye to offer though child." The old woman said as she continued her shuffle towards the chairs near the hearth, pausing briefly to look over her shoulder as those green eyes noted the apron about the other woman's waist, the way her hair was kept, and a few assumptions could be made.

"Ye be workin' here lass?"

Dulcie nodded her head and closed the door with a soft press of her hand, looking back over at the old woman with a sort of reverance. Like some of the other people in Myrken she had a deep respect for anyone that had survived to live that long.

"Yes, I manage the place. I hope that it's been comfortable for you. I know that the stairs aren't that easy to get around on." She said apologetically, moving towards the old woman as she heard the crack and pop of the old bones as the other woman seated herself.

"Oh it's been plenty fine. I can get around just fine when I be wantin' too. An' don't ye come over here askin' me anymore questions 'bout if I can be managin' things. I nay want for anything but a spot o' company lass." She paused to pat a chair near her. "In all my years I hear some o' the best stories from innkeepers, an' I'd love to be hearin' yours child."
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Re: A Story for the Innkeeper

Postby Dulcie » Mon Apr 01, 2013 1:46 pm

Dulcie seemed to consider for a minute before she finally nodded. She collected her mug of ale and came over to the chair that the old woman had patted.

"My name's Dulcie by the way. And I don't think that I've got much of a story to tell. I think I do more listening these days than talking about myself." She shrugged her shoulders simply and took a drink from her mug of ale before she looked over at the other woman, waiting for an introduction in return.

"Yer lyin' lass." The old woman said simply, eliciting a blink of surprise from Dulcie, her lashes fluttering a bit as she tried to resolve the old woman's sudden statement.

"Excuse me?" She asked, holding on to her mug tightly.

"Lyin'. And I be guessin' that ye lie just about every time someone asks ye to tell yer story. Let me show ye how I know that yer lyin' aye?" The old woman said with a twinkle in her eyes, and Dulcie couldn't seem to resist really. She was curious, hooked on the old woman's sudden dose of the truth. She nodded her consent and waited for the old woman's assessment.

The old woman leaned forward slowly and took Dulcie's left hand. She pulled it towards herself, cradling it between her two withered old hands. A bony fingertip ran down the innkeeper's hand, tapping lightly on the ring finger. "Yer first lie. Not a different color o' skin, but nice an' smooth there. Not like the rest o' yer workin' hands. Married at lease once I would be guessin'." The old woman paused there and looked up at Dulcie for confirmation. It was quickly received as Dulcie gave a quick nod of her head. The old woman smiled sweetly and nodded. "Musta loved that one. Still see a bit o' pain lingerin' in yer eyes lass."

The old woman continued her proof against the lie, taking a gnarled finger to push up Dulcie's sleeve a bit, revealing an old scar, the tip of it having showed from the edge of her sleeve. "Yer second lie. Looks like ye stitched it up yerself. Used to tell go about tellin' stories to wanderin' warriors and the like an' saw wounds like that. Ye nay look to be a warrior though lass, so ye've got me wonderin' a bit about you." Again, the nod confirmed it and the old woman continued. She returned the innkeeper's hand to her chair with a pat of her hand over hers.

"But what intrigues me most be that little scar on yer neck. Ye keep it hidden I think, behind yer hair, but I see a hint o' it now. Ye see I find myself wonderin' how it is that a widow who stitches up her own wounds an' lets herself be fed on by vampires ends up runnin' an' inn and tavern. I'm a good listener lass, an' as someone who tells many stories I can tell ye how good it feels when ye share one. Tell me lass, what's troubled yer life so?"
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Re: A Story for the Innkeeper

Postby Dulcie » Tue Apr 02, 2013 11:02 am

Dulcie shifted, turning her body away from the other woman as a hint of a blush touched upon her cheeks. She looked down at her lap and fidgeted with the sleeve of her shirt, tucking it back into place. It took a few minutes before the innkeeper finally started talking. They were minutes that Grawnya easily gave to the other woman as she watched her and the fidgeting until Dulcie finally began talking.

"I'm an orphan you know." She started, her gaze turned up towards the old woman. "My parents died just after I turned 18. That's when I started working here. I needed something other than the farm to keep my family fed. There's 13 of us children. You've probably met some of my little brothers and sisters when you've been in town telling stories. They've told me about some of the tales you told them." Dulcie said as she glanced up at the old woman, a smile offered as she indicated to the other woman that she at least had some knowledge of who she was.

"So I guess to answer your first and your last question, I met my husband here. He was sitting at that table right there." She said as she pointed to the table closest to the door and nearest to one of the windows. "I was tending bar, and I suppose that's all there was to it. He walked me home that night, and on the way there I was attacked. He saved me. He walked me home every night. Then it became dinner, and then a ring." She laughed a little, remembering his tenacity. "I loved him very much, but now it feels so long ago." She waited then for the usual apology, the uncomfortable shift that people made when a painful story was told. Instead she found that Grawnya only nodded comfortably and added.

"That only explains the ring lass. Not why it's gone, and not my other question." She pointed out gently. Dulcie nodded and continued.

"He was a vampire." She paused and waited, listening for the gasp of horror and yet only found understanding and compassion in the old woman's eyes. "He wasn't a bad man, far from it. He didn't feed from any other human but me, and only then because I let him. People aren't all so understanding though. We were on our honeymoon after we had gotten married and someone stumbled across us. There were too many and too fast for us. They killed him." She furrowed her brow a little, shaking her head a bit. "People make fun of me you know? Call me a Monster-Lover or try to throw men in my direction, to get me to be with someone human. It's not that though. I loved Ethan for who he was, not what he was. People don't understand that."

"A tragic tale this one. I would say that I was sorry to be askin' about it, but I am not. Sometimes a tragedy is what touches a heart the most lass. An' I can see that ye have a big one. An' do nay be lettin' other folks tell you who is an' who is nay a monster. That's somethin' only ye know child." The old woman offered her a smile and reached out to try to take Dulcie's hand again. The innkeeper smiled and let the old woman hold her hand, feeling an ache in her heart for a moment that she might have shared with a mother if she still had one.

"An what about that scar on yer arm then lass? From when yer husband was taken?" The old woman asked curiously, looking a bit surprised when Dulcie laughed and shook her head.

"No, no. That had other.. consequences." She paused again, half expecting another question, but the old woman didn't offer one. "I was attacked here one night in the bar. I can't stand being in the bloody Rememdium any longer than I have to be, so I just stitched it up myself. It's not the first time I've had to do it, or had to stitch up someone else. Bad things happen here."

"So I keep bein' told." The old woman said, nodding her head slightly. "Your story is so sad. Perhaps I could tell ye a happy one? A story I once heard about an innkeeper? A friend o' mine said ye might like to be hearin' it."
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Re: A Story for the Innkeeper

Postby Dulcie » Sun Apr 07, 2013 5:47 am

"I figured that he might have said something. He made a big point about me needing to hear a story. Sort of funny really, because I'd listen anyhow. I'm actually a little surprised that I haven't heard one of your stories before now. When I was a little girl my Uncle used to tell us all stories around the fireside. That was before my father," Dulcie stopped then and frowned. She shook her head and made it quite clear she wasn't going to continue down that path. She wasn't even sure how he had started it. "What I was trying to say is that I like stories, and I'd very much like to hear the one you have to tell me. Especially if it has a happy ending. We don't see many of those in Myrken."

Grawnya's eyes sparkled a little as the innkeeper agreed to hear the tale and she nodded her head slightly. "Aye lass, I nay s'pose ye do have many a good story in this place. Hard to say what I'd call the ending o' this one. I s'pose ye will just have to decide on it for yerself." She smiled then and continued to hold Dulcie's hand, her withered thumb stroking over the worn calloused skin of the innkeeper. There was a moment then, before the story started, where Grawnya looked over the younger woman, considering all the things she had learned. There were more stories in this woman. Stories that could be told from those scars, from the hurt in her eyes, and the little hints of things that Dulcie almost said. But part of collecting peoples stories was knowing exactly when to push, and when to stop, and the innkeeper had given enough for now.

"It all begins in a tavern much like this one, in a town very much like Myrken Wood." The old woman's accent was gone, and yet Dulcie found herself thinking nothing of it. Her hand in the old woman's began to relax and already she could picture the Broken Dagger in her mind's eye, there and empty, waiting to be fromed by the tale.

"In this tavern there was a young innkeeper, a woman not all that much different in age from yourself really, who had known a life of hardship, and had scraped her way up from the gutters of her town. The child of a father who knew the bottom of a bottle all too well, and a mother who had fed her children with coins from the pockets of other men. The innkeeper had wanted nothing of the life of her parents, and so as soon as she was old enough she fled and found comfort as a scullery maid in a tavern in a nearby town."

The picture for Dulcie was so clear and so vivid, and as the old woman began to tell her tale there were far too may parts that felt familiar, and her hand tensed a little in the loose grasp of Grawnya's hand. The old woman paused a moment and soothed Dulcie with the gentle stroke of her fingertips.

"Our young innkeeper was very hard working. She knew that honest work meant honest pay and it wasn't long before she was tending the bar. A few short years passed and the owners of the inn and tavern decided that tavern life was exhausting for those so elderly, so they sold the tavern into her hands at a price that was indeed very fortunate for her.

Now then, it's important to point out that this young woman didn't have the blessings that you did, of having found someone to love. You see she was very plain in her appearance. Oh she was far from being ugly, but she wasn't the sort of woman that anyone paid much attention to either. Her hands were rough from years in the dish sinks, and her skin was spotted with freckles from the sun. Her hair was neither fine and silken, nor thick and flowing. Everything about her made her blend into the background. People liked the innkeeper well enough. The drinks flowed, the beds were clean and the food was decent. She had made a good life for herself, and yet she felt something was missing and there was a deep, lonely hole in her heart. She watched as younger girls in town began to find their husbands, to have children of their own, and yet all that she had in her life was the inn and tavern."

The old woman paused then and smiled, catching Dulcie's eyes.

"And then of course, one day that all changed."
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Re: A Story for the Innkeeper

Postby Dulcie » Mon Apr 08, 2013 11:51 am

"What happened?" Dulcie asked curiously after the old woman's pause. It was strange really, she had never experienced a story quite like this one, and even as it was being told something tickled at the edge of her brain, feeling ever so briefly that there was something wasn't quite as it should be.

"Ah, I'm glad that you asked." Grawnya continued. "You see these old taverns are full of little quirks and strange little spaces. Surely you've seen similar things in this space of yours. A door that you didn't notice or forgot was there, a cupboard hidden behind a rack of pots and pans. There are all manner of things that are built and hidden in old buildings, and this building in particular was no different, for it too hid a secret.

One day the innkeeper was cleaning the tavern quite thoroughly. She had worked there for a number of years, yes, but it had been built and cared for by other hands for so much time that she decided that she needed to know ever nook and cranny of the place. She took everything from the cupboards, removed every tapestry and painting from the wall, all with the intention of ensuring that everything was deeply cleaned. Of course she never quite got there however, for as she pulled down the last tapestry she discovered a little door that she had never seen before.

Curiosity of course overtook our young innkeeper, and she opened that little door, and discovered that there were stairs leading beneath the tavern, oh and what a sight did she see when she reached the bottom."
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Re: A Story for the Innkeeper

Postby Dulcie » Mon Apr 08, 2013 12:07 pm

"Well what did she find? You can't just go pausing like that all the time. Tell me!" Dulcie said with a bit of a laugh, something that seemed to please the old woman, who immediately began to pick her story up again.

"At the bottom of the stairs she found herself in a cave, but it was unlike any other cave she had seen before. It was as if the earn that been carved out by the hands of men rather than by those of nature, and she found herself in a narrow passageway, illuminated only by strange mushrooms that seemed to glow in the darkness, giving the cavern a sort of strange blue-green glow about it.

For a moment she thought to turn back, to go back up to the tavern, but her curiousity drove her forward. After just a short walk the passageway widened and she found herself in a great, grand space. The mushrooms still glowed, but she could see in the dim light that someone had left behind candles that still rested in their sconces. She hurried to find the flint in her pocket and quickly lit the candles, revealing what appeared to be a hot spring in the middle of the cavern.

She found it strange of course that this spring was there beneath the tavern, and even stranger yet that there was hidden door to it. She came to the water's edge and breathed in the scent of perfect, pure water. She touched it with her hand and found it just the right temperature of warmth for bathing, and so with a glance to the left and a glance to the right the innkeeper decided to indulge herself in a moment of rest.

She took her time bathing in the waters of the spring, finding that indeed the water was absolutely perfect for such a thing. By the time she had finished and was returning herself to her clothing she felt different, like she had been cleansed of her weariness and her trouble. She went back up the stairs and returned to her tavern, feeling like a new woman."
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Re: A Story for the Innkeeper

Postby Dulcie » Mon Apr 08, 2013 12:29 pm

"And was she? A new woman that is? Was there magic in the water?" Dulcie was clearly sucked into the story. She could see those luminescent fungi on the walls of the passageway, and the glow of the cavern lit up with the soft glow of the candlelit. It was a story filled with whimsy, and that was exactly the kind of story the younger woman had longed to hear.

Grawnya continued, "Not exactly a new woman, but there was certainly some magic in the water. You see the innkeeper had barely begun to finish hanging the tapestry back up when her first customers of the day arrived. A pair of fishermen came to her bar, and as she waited on them, expecting to hear their usual chatter amongt one another about their time fishing and the girls that they had left behind in the town, they were captivated with her. They asked her dozens of questions about herself, and they fell over themselves with compliments and kind words. It was so strange for our innkeeper who was so rarely noticed by anyone, that these two men would suddenly be attending to her.

This continued all throughout the day. Each man, and even some of the women were fascinated with the innkeeper and by the time the day had finished she had been asked to the spring festival by nearly a dozen people, and begged to attend a family dinner by at least three others. She couldn't believe her good fortune, and she couldn't help but think that perhaps the waters had indeed turned her into a new woman."

Grawnya paused and smiled then at Dulcie, watching the younger woman's look of fascination at the story. Dulcie nodded silently, urging her to continue with her eyes.

"The innkeeper continued to bath in the waters each day, and each day her patrons would shower her with compliments and good will. Her tavern was becoming more and more popular with each day that passed and she was earning so much that she was able to afford more staff for her modest business. But even amongst this all the innkeeper had noticed one of the merchants who had been coming day in and day out to see her in the tavern. He had offered to walk her home numerous times and yet she always refused him, feeling confused about how to choose one man over another when there were so many, but eventually she consented.

One walk turned into another, and then another after that, and the innkeeper found herself falling deeply in love with the merchant. Their love for one another grew stronger with each day that passed, and eventually when her lover proposed to her, the innkeeper accepted with a happy heart and they were wed. "

"But was it real then? Their love?" Dulcie said, finally breaking from the trance of the story as she looked back over at Grawnya, confused.

"Ah, that's the question now isn't it. You see the innkeeper continued to bath in those waters every day, from the first day that she found it to the last day of her life, and never did her love for her husband falter, though many wished that it would so they might have their chance with her. The question about whether it was real are not though, I suppose that's up to you to decide. Who is to say that love which is brought to life by magic isn't any love at all?"
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Re: A Story for the Innkeeper

Postby Dulcie » Mon Apr 08, 2013 12:45 pm

Dulcie considered that for a moment, her brow furrowed in concentration. "I don't think I agree. I mean, love is something in you, not something created by magic. It wasn't real. It was just... sad." She frowned. This wasn't the sort of story that she had been hoping for.

"Ah lass. I hear what ye be sayin' but think for a moment 'bout what ye just said. Love is somethin' in ye aye? What puts it there? There's folks who believe that the Gods are behind how a person finds their love. A spring could just be a tool o' their devices." Grawnya said soothingly.

"I don't believe in Gods." Dulcie said flatly, though when she looked over at the old woman she saw that she was being looked at questioningly. "I just don't believe that any great being could put me through what I've been through. I'm not a bad person, I don't deserve what I've had." It made her feel vulnerable to say it, but there was something about the old woman that made it seem safe, or at least safer to tell.

"Or maybe ye be worried that if there is a God ye will nay be forgiven for what ye've done." The old woman said, her tone holding a sense of portent to it. Something that sent a quick chill down Dulcie's spine and she looked at the old woman suspiciously.

Grawnya laughed. "Oh nay be lookin' at me like that lass. Ye were the one givin' yerself away again. Heard that bit o' doubt in yer voice when ye talked about not being a bad person, an' not deservin' what ye've been given. Ye live as long as I have an' ye get to knowin' when people are doubtin' themselves."

"Am I that obvious?" The younger woman asked carefully.

"I imagine only to me lass." Grawnya said, pausing for a moment "Ye've killed someone haven't ye child? Bold an' strong as ye are, I can nay imagine much else that would have a woman who can stitch up her own wounds feelin' so guilty." She didn't wait for an answer, but she saw the slight nod in Dulcie's head that let her know she was right. "How many child?"

It tugged at her. This woman tugged at her, made her want to tell things that she didn't exactly want to tell, but Dulcie couldn't help feeling that she needed to. That there was so much in her that she kept all bottled up all the time that sometimes she felt she might explode, and here with this woman, this strange old woman, it somehow felt safe to let it go.

"Three." She admitted softly, in a voice that was barely her own, quiet as it was.

Grawnya just nodded and took Dulcie's hands, holding them both in her withered pair. "An' I imagine ye still be feelin' their blood on yer hands." She paused again, her green eyes settling on Dulcie's. "Wash 'em clean lass. Let go o' what's been done an' gone. Let yerself start o'er lass. Nay go denying yerself the bit o' happiness that's out there in this world. I been around long enough to know how rare it comes." She smiled then and carefully released Dulcie's hands as she began to stand up, offering a nod of gratitude for Dulcie when she went to help her up.

"Thank you Storyteller. I'm not sure what to think of the tale, but I appreciate your time." She paused then, finishing helping Grawnya to her feet. "And I appreciate the advice. I think maybe it's been too long since I've talked to anyone about.. well, about anything really."

Grawnya smiled and offered the younger woman a light pat on her shoulder. "Ye can always talk to me lass. An' maybe some day, when it weighs lighter on yer heart, ye might tell me more o' yer stories."

The old woman didn't wait for Dulcie to say no. She just turned and hobbled out of the door, off to go find her usual gaggle of children to tell tales to.
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