In Which Jothein Finds a Thorn Among Roses

August 31, 1164

"Good morning, Seoth," Jothein greeted the innkeeper as he strode into the shop.

Seoth grunted. "I suppose you could call it that. Thank you for your good spirits, Jothein, but I'm afraid they are quite wasted on me today."

He then proceeded to scan the shop; Jothein knew the glances of his customers, and he could identify Seoth's as that of a man with a particular item in mind. "May I ask what it is you're looking for?"

The other man paused for a moment, then mused, "Oh right, you left early last night. Well, I doubt this will surprise you, but your friend Florian somehow got it into his head to challenge gravity and, well... long story short, I need some new bar-stools."

That was Florian, all right--and Jothein had a sneaking suspicion that the man hadn't even been drunk at the time. Some time ago, Seoth had revealed himself to be a rather easy individual to annoy, and Florian had made a point to capitalize. "I see. Well, I don't have any right now, but if I don't get too many other customers today, I can probably make some for you fairly quickly. Do you mind if I send Rifden to the inn with you for the measurements? The boy could use some practice."

The innkeeper shrugged. "How old is he? He isn't one of those grubby-handed little children who only serve to make a mess of places, is he?"

"He's twelve--and rather tidy, I assure you."

"Very well, then."

Jothein turned toward the staircase. "Rifden! I need you to take some measurements for Master Altharaine here!"

As the boy clambered down the steps, Seoth ventured a slight chuckle. "You know, maybe I should count myself fortunate. If the man trashes my inn here in distant Veldorashire, I shudder to think of the state of all those inns in the actual vicinity of his house."

"Actually, he barely sets foot in any of them," Jothein informed him. "He claims that their beer tastes like piss."

Seoth sighed. "Lucky bastards. Anyway, thank you, Jothein, and I will pay you upon completion--though you might want to warn Florian that I'm adding the cost to his tab."

Rolling his eyes, Jothein nodded. "I'll tell him."

"Excellent--and this might go without saying, but I want these to be among the most expensive you've ever made."

"Well, the customer is always right."

Tossing his head back, Seoth gave a crisp, cold laugh. "Indeed. Now, come along, boy; this shouldn't take too long."

Jothein retreated to the table as Seoth led Rifden outside. He knew that he would be slaving over this new project for quite some time after the boy returned, so he figured he'd better take advantage of the opportunity to sit down while he could.

Or, so he thought before the knock on the door told him otherwise. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Enter."

As if by magic, the door swung open to reveal a young woman in a creamy velvet gown. Jothein raised an eyebrow; if Lady Alina had dresses so fine, he had neither seen nor even heard of them. And that circlet--real gold, he could tell. Who was this girl? And why on earth had she come to his humble little shop dressed like a princess?

"Can I help you?" he offered, hoping his confusion wasn't too apparent.

"I'm sorry to bother you," the girl began, making her way to the table, "but my mother sells flowers nearby, and she's hoping for a little more business, so we're giving out samples."

That only raised more questions. "I wasn't aware that anyone sold flowers around here." Not to mention, how can the daughter of a flower seller afford to dress like that?

"Oh, we're a little off the beaten trail," she hastily explained; there was something about the way her eyes bulged that unnerved him somewhat. "Anyway, these are for you. You can put them up in here somewhere, or give them to your wife, or whatever you choose."

Jothein squinted, studying the roses. He did not seem to recall ever seeing such a color before. "You know, my wife isn't really the sort of woman who cares much for flowers."

"But they're a gift!" protested the girl. "Please, just take them--you have nothing to lose."

Figuring that at least it would get her to leave, Jothein bit his lip and reached for the bouquet. "Well, I suppose you're right. Thank--ow!"

The girl blinked as he recoiled. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he insisted. "Just... caught a thorn, that's all."

>With more caution this time, he took the flowers from the girl and set them on the table. "Thank you."

She nodded. "You're welcome. I hope you enjoy them, and that you'll come by for more."

I highly doubt I will, he thought to himself, but it seemed a rather rude to say so to her face. "We shall see. Take care."

"You as well," she acknowledged, turning away from him and briskly making her way out of the shop. "You as well."

His finger was bleeding where the thorn had pricked him, he noticed. Odd--thorns weren't typically so sharp, or at least not as far as he knew. Oh well, it would scab over before he started on Seoth's order; by the time Rifden returned, Jothein doubted he would even remember it.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Nora Finds Them Waiting

July 12, 1164

"Mama's home!" exclaimed Cuthron as he tottered toward Nora and leapt eagerly into her arms.

"Mama's home," she repeated, hoisting her son to her shoulder, "and you should be in bed. What are you doing up?"

The boy's sister waved from the couch, a matter-of-face grin on her face. "Papa said we could wait up for you."

Nora raised an eyebrow, her gaze shifting to her husband, who occupied himself with the fire in the hearth. "Oh really? Now why on earth would Papa say something like that?"

Sighing, Jothein gave the fire a few last prods before setting the poker back into place. "Because their Auntie Alsina has no tact, that's why--got them all worked up about everything that's been happening in the forests lately, she did."

That did sound like something her thoughtless sister would do. Nora scowled. "Remind me to smack that girl the next time I see her. You know, I almost wish Aldhein would indulge that silly crush of hers, just so she would have an outlet for her antics who happens to be over the age of five and a half."

"Well, I'll probably be seeing him tomorrow--I'll tell him you're eager to have him for a brother-in-law."

Her unchanged vision was the only indication that her bulging eyes had not popped straight from their sockets. "Hey! I didn't say that!"

Jothein merely chuckled, ignoring her annoyed glare. Shaking her head, Nora turned to their daughter. "Bedtime, sweetheart."

Aldara didn't so much as blink, which struck Nora as unusual; she was normally a rather fidgety child. "Mama... you didn't ride home by yourself, did you?"

What had Alsina said to them? She would have to ask Jothein for the specifics once the children were asleep. "I rode home with Uncle Falidor, of course, so you know I wasn't on my own for very long--you can see his house from ours, remember?"

The five-year-old didn't seem convinced. "You didn't go through any forests?"

Nora shook her head. Then, with a grin, she teased, "Even if we did, you know I'm scarier than anything in the forests."

"Amen to that," Jothein laughed as stepped toward her, "but don't worry, my babies--Mama knows not to go riding alone these days."

Still, Cuthron buried his face in Nora's hair, as though afraid she might suddenly disappear. "Mama."

"Mama's here," she assured him with a smile, "Mama's here, and you're getting to big to hold, you know that? My back's starting to hurt."

Giggling, her son wrapped his arms around her neck, then began to bounce squeamishly. "Down!"

Nora had to laugh. "First you want hugs, now you want space. You're a little young yet for mood swings, son."

"But he's getting older every day," mused Jothein as Nora set him on the ground.

"You really think so, Aristotle?"

He casually flicked a lock of her hair over her shoulder. "You and your sister are two of a kind."

"I should hope not," she protested, shuddering. "Not that I imagine either of us is as docile and ladylike as our dear mother would have hoped."

"I imagine your brothers more than compensate for the two of you in docility."

A fact she could not argue, she mused as Jothein gently ran the side of his hand down her face. "It's true that there is no gentler woman in all the land than Falidor."

"And yet, I hope you did the ungentlemanly thing and made him see you to the door of your house," Jothein mused.

Nora frowned. "I most certainly did not; I'll have you know that I was a perfect gentleman, and personally saw him to his door. I do know my brother, and he needs my protection more than I need his."

Shaking his head, her husband planted a quick kiss upon her forehead. "Darling, please--for my own peace of mind. Let him see you to the door from now on, all right?"

Indignant, she dug the toe of her shoe into the skirt of her dress. "Jothein..."

"Please," he echoed firmly, a seriousness in his eyes that she had only ever seen in the event of a death. "We need you."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Evaleith Opens an Oft-Trodden Path

February 4, 1164

The inn was not as busy as Evaleith might have hoped, but at least it was not empty. An unoccupied place did have its advantages, especially when one knew that one would have to sleep there that night, but she could not pay for a bed on her own. She would have to get a different way--the same way she had fed herself for years, the same way she had always bounced between buildings from night to night, the same way she had put herself on that ship and made it all the way to Naroni.

The innkeeper met her gaze and frowned. "A little cold to be out without a cloak, wouldn't you say?"

Evaleith shrugged. She had traded her cloak for some bread about half an hour prior, but he didn't need to know that. "I'm fine."

He appeared unconvinced; hastily, she looked away. "Can I help you with something?"

"Seoth!" scolded a mildly drunken man from the table by the stairs. "Your wife's just in the next room, you bastard!"

The man's friends began to laugh; the innkeeper's blue eyes narrowed. "I can throw you out of here, you know!"

"Can you throw me into your wife?"

"Shut up, Florian!" he spat, before turning back to Evaleith. "Now, do you need something, or...?"

She silenced him by pressing her finger to her lips. "One second."

Ignoring his marked confusion, she took a moment to study the inn's patrons. From what she could see, the men at the loudmouth's table were rather better-looking than the ones at the other table, but to her dismay, the two dark-haired men and the blond all wore wedding bands around their fingers. The auburn-haired one did not; she started to approach him, but it wasn't long before one of his friends inquired about his daughter. Anything that could be asked about a child--name, favorite color, general health--provided ample opportunity for conflicting accounts, and that was one thing she did not want to risk. Resigned, she looked to the other table.

Two of them wore rings. Of the other half of the party, one was rather old and did not look the type to go along with such things. The other, however, met her eyes and sent her a wink; he would have to do.

"Well, aren't you a pretty little thing!" the man chuckled as she strode toward him.

Evaleith sniffed. "So I've been told."

"I'm sure. Now, what can I do you for?"

She peered down at him, arching her brows and widening her eyes; she figured she might as well be direct with him. "I need money for a bed tonight."

The man frowned. "What's in it for me?"

"You can share it."

Sending a parting gesture the way of his fellows, he pulled himself to his feet and brushed past her, pressing some cold metal coins into the palm of her hand. "Meet me upstairs," he whispered. She felt his fingers spider their way up her side until they reached her thigh, then he removed his hand and proceeded to the staircase. Somehow, she doubted he had much experience; she may have just earned herself a long, painful night.

Ah, but she could not dwell on such thoughts, she realized as she approached the innkeeper and shoved the coins into his fist. "One bed, please. Forgive me for making you wait, I just needed to talk to my husband."

"Husband?" the innkeeper repeated. "I didn't know Roveln had a wife."

Damn--the man was a regular. Hmmm... "I don't leave the house very often, and he's quite private about his personal life, you know."

"That also explains why you want a bed here when you have a house a minute's walk away."

Did he? "Oh, well... we just want a change of scenery. You know how it is, right?"

The innkeeper rolled his eyes. "Well, you certainly chose the right place for scenery."

"My husband likes this place," Evaleith insisted.

"I'm sure," he sneered. "Look, I'm sorry if you're down on your luck, but you have to understand that I'm trying run a clean establishment here, all right? I don't want the beds in this inn being used for any funny business."

He'd hit the nail right on the head; it was imperative that she didn't let him know that. "I don't like what you seem to be implying, sir."

The innkeeper sighed. "If I'm much mistaken, then I'm sorry, but you really can't blame me for finding this scenario rather odd. Now, run along, before I change my mind and give you back your money."

Nodding, she scurried up the stairs and made her way into the bedroom. She would have to warn the man to keep it down.

"What took you so long, girlie?" he teased as she stepped inside. "Old Seoth giving you grief?"

Evaleith closed her eyes. "If he asks, you're my husband."

"And what would my wife's name be?"

"I'll leave that up to you," she muttered as she released her curls from her braid. "Can you untie my dress for me?"

He smirked. "Don't think I won't."

She turned around and allowed him to lay his eager hands upon her. His clumsy fingers fumbled with the strings--even more reason to suspect he didn't have much of an idea as to what he was doing. If the bed wasn't warm and comfortable, she would know she had been cheated.

Finally, the dress fell to the floor; the man's hand, however, hovered over her back. "So beautiful," he breathed into her ear. "So magnificent..."

She didn't know how much more of this she could take.

Eager to get it over with, she turned on her heel and put on her most charming smile. "Let's just... proceed to the fun stuff, shall we?"

The man emitted a wicked laugh--this was really getting to be too easy. "Can't say 'no' to that now, can I?"

"Can't imagine why you would."

With all the giddiness of a boy half his age, he dipped her in his arms, planting kisses on the front of her neck, drumming his fingers against the small of her back. The glide of his tongue across her breasts sent a familiar tremor throughout her skeleton; that path had been trodden many more times than she herself had years.

Finally, a distinct hardness pressed itself against her thigh; she giggled throatily, then pushed him to the bed and slid herself between his open knees.

"All right, Tiger--time to take off those clothes and get your money's worth!"

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Ceidrid Offers a Solution

June 29, 1163

Though the aroma of chicken broth and the warmth of the fire were both sensations that Ceidrid ordinarily found pleasing, they had so far proven to be an insufficient distraction. Not that that was too surprising--after all, it had been far from a typical day in the household. Last night, Ceidrid's grandfather had gone to bed, just as he always had. This morning, he had not woken.

To this very hour, Cuthron Wythleit laid in his bed, neither moving nor breathing. In his bed... that was how he had always wanted to go, Ceidrid knew. The only missing detail the old man would have desired was the presence of a woman in said bed with him. Oh well--it was better than wasting away for months as their parents had, Ceidrid had to admit.

And yet, it almost felt worse for Ceidrid and his siblings. Sudden. Unexpected. Falidor claimed Ailede had said something like that to him when her brother had died; it was the first time Ceidrid had ever felt any sympathy for his sister-in-law.

Speaking of his-sister-in-law, she was visibly absent. Falidor had arrived that afternoon, accompanied by his children and stepdaughter, who now played in Nora and Jothein's bedroom with their young cousins. Alsina was seated in their mother's old chair by the wall while Falidor, Nora, Rifden and Jothein occupied the benches at the table. As for Ceidrid himself, he had opted to stand; as the house was now legally his, he did not feel right about putting his own physical comfort ahead of his family's, especially in this difficult situation.

Behind him, Falidor dragged the toe of his boot against the dirt floor. "So you and Nora and the children are still thinking about moving into the rooms above your shop until your new house is finished?"

Jothein nodded. "That's the plan."

Ceidrid glanced over his shoulder at Nora; she shifted in her seat, as though the muscle in her thigh had gone numb. "It wouldn't be any inconvenience for us to take Ceidrid and Alsina and Rifden with us, of course, but we'll be in rather cramped quarters; I doubt they'll comfortably fit seven of us."

"Besides, there's only the two rooms: the kitchen, and the bedroom," added Alsina with a frown. "I'm used to sharing a room with two snoring boys and two crying babies, but I draw the line at my sister and her husband fucking without even a wall between them and me while I'm trying to sleep."

Nora glared at her. "Sina!"

Alsina shrugged. "What? It's true."

"What about you, Rifden?" Jothein addressed the youngest brother, likely in an attempt to stir the conversation away from his and Nora's sex life. "Do you have any such... reservations?"

Rifden took a moment to consider; Ceidrid continued to prod at the flames, trying to figure out what he himself would say when they asked him. It was not a decision to be made hastily, but given the circumstances, there was no other option. Unfortunately, Ceidrid was not the sort of boy who thought well under pressure. It seemed at the moment that his best chance was to wait for his younger brother's response, and perhaps play off of it.

Finally, Rifden spoke. "I don't know. Since I'm your apprentice, I should probably move into your new house with you when it's built, but you might want your space if you're living in the shop with the children and all. Maybe Ceidrid and Alsina and me should just move in with Falidor for a while."

Falidor sighed. "If I didn't think Ailede would kill me, I'd agree."

Jothein and Nora's rooms didn't have the physical space... Falidor's house didn't have the emotional space... this was beginning to feel rather hopeless.

Or is it? Ceidrid thought to himself as he turned around to face his older sister; for once, he seemed to have been hit with a sudden idea. "Nora... maybe we could just stay here?"

Nora's brow furrowed, her blue eyes darting about the room for a few seconds before settling on his own. "Sorry?"

"Well... it is technically my house now," he began, speaking word-by-word as each came to mind, "and somebody does need to tend the farm--I don't think Grandpapa would have wanted to see it rot away, especially since it looks like it's going to be a good harvest this year. I know I'm probably not the best guardian for Alsina and Rifden, but I'll be sixteen in September, so I think I'm mature enough to provide for them until your new house is ready."

His sister's head tilted to one side as her lips pursed in mingled compassion and contemplation. "Ceidrid... are you sure? I mean, I trust you, but is that really what you want?"

"No," he admitted, "but this isn't what any of us want. We all want Papa and Mama and Grandpapa to still be here, but we can't have that. In the mean time, if the three of us stay here, then Rifden will be out of your hair for a while, and Alsina will have some time to consider whether she wants to live with you or with Falidor, or maybe find a job or a husband if she wants. Besides, you were married and practically a mother to all of us at sixteen, and Falidor had his own house at sixteen, so I think I can handle this."

Nora glanced at Jothein, who in turn cast his eyes upon Falidor. "Well? You're the head of the family now--what do you think?"

Falidor lifted his head to the ceiling. "I suppose that's as good a solution as anything else. I only wish we could've had a little more time before we had to make such a decision."

"Don't we all," Jothein muttered in agreement. "Don't we all."

NEXT CHAPTER: