Bree was a small town, that was for sure, but even small towns have their dark sides. The streets where "respectable" people would never admit to going. The streets where young men found their fun at. The streets where you saw coins being discreetly passed under cloaks, and the streets where – for the right price – a dagger would flash discreetly, and a life would flash before darkening eyes.
And Thumber Road was on this side – Witches Way, it was called by those who scorned it. All the women worked on Witches Way, unless they were the truly irredeemable ones, those who would take whoever paid enough and spend it on herbs and powders that were not meant for humans. Witches Way was ruled by Mrs Glyfoird, an ugly old woman, but one who kept an eye on all of her girls and their purses. She was not from Bree – her black skin said as much – but she had been there for as long as the mind could look back. During the nights, while her girls leant from doorways into the street, she would sit on her stately old wood chair, like a queen surveying her kingdom, enthroned upon a balcony where her eyes missed nothing. She had the house at the top of the street, and her favourites worked at the closest houses. Those out of royal favour were left at the other end, forced to charge lower prices and work harder than the favoured ones. 2 or 3 girls, the youngest, most beautiful ones, worked in her own house, and ate, slept and trained under Mrs Glyfoird's watchful eyes. These were the girls allowed to entertain only one customer a night, who could dance and sing and were even given lessons and a hope of marrying a customer who was particularly enthralled with them. These were the girls who had plentiful supplies of the expensive herb that all the girls required – pennyroyal, diluted and with the bitter taste of the tears that were shed as it was taken. These were the girls who had doctors to watch over them, lest they take too much or too little. Every year, two or three of the less fortunate would die from the pennyroyal. Sometimes it was accidental.
Deeta was nearer to the higher end of the road than the bottom, a fact that she thanked the powers for daily. She was 5 doors away from Mrs Glyfoird, and shared a house with 3 others, all like her – Senna, Anya and Olo. Olo had 17 years to her name; Anya 26. Senna and Deeta were among the many who had been left with no Birth-Day, but Senna knew she must have had 20 or 21 winters, and they had guessed that Deeta was the youngest there, with 13 or 14 to her credit.
All of them were grateful to be in a house that got along so well, and one that didn't have to worry about money – Anya had a well-established reputation already, and the others, having gained business as a result, were on their way to getting them. While none in the house were well fed, they always had enough for two meals a day. The houses below them argued and fought, but strife in this house was not something that happened often, and if it did agreements and apologies of noble intentions were quickly made.
At night, each had her appointed place. Anya, with a face likened to that of the pictures of beautiful and noble Númenóreans, and beautiful dark waves of hair the colour of chestnut, had the left side of the balcony, where she sat, the first thing that men passing the house would see. Deeta was at the other side. This was often considered an unlucky draw, because most men were already looking at the other houses, but Deeta liked it, mostly because of the fresh air. An already tiny frame and lack of food had produced a figure elf-like in its slenderness, with masses of curly brown hair that exploded around eyes so dark and set in such pale skin as to be almost black. Normal 0 false false false EN-GB X-NONE X-NONE !-- /* Font Definitions */ font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:1; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-format:other; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:0 0 0 0 0 0;} font-face {font-family:Calibri; panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1073750139 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ , , {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin-top:0cm; margin-right:0cm; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:0cm; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;} .MsoPapDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; margin-bottom:10.0pt; line-height:115%;} page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 72.0pt 72.0pt 72.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} 1 {page:Section1;} -- Her hair, usually so frizzy that it was more like a hat than hair, did not add to her beauty, and she knew that her features were slightly too large and her head slightly too small for her to be considered truly beautiful, but it all added to an ephemeral look. Some men preferred the girls at the bawdier end of the street, with the lower cut dresses, but Deeta earnt her keep from those who liked them young and delicate. Senna would lean on the door frame, and knew how much she could could charge a customer before he would take his business to other places. If a man requested Senna herself – Senna, with her beautiful dark red hair, that fell down to her hips and was so often braided into tiny plaits – then Olo, who otherwise sat in the window, would take her place. And if both of them were booked then the door was closed, and the men passing by would know that that house was surely well in demand. Olo had curly black hair, that fell in beautiful ringlets when it was let down, but mostly it was kept pinned to her head and secured by strings.
This night, however, Deeta almost wished she was inside. The wind was biting, and her clothes – vest, underskirt, tights, skirt, shirt and bodice – were cotton, and not warm in the slightest. Anya, at the other end of the balcony and wrapped warmly in a beautiful coat, glanced back, concerned, as coughs raced through Deeta's body. Deeta knew that if Anya had a choice, she would have gifted the coat to the younger girl, but the house couldn't afford to have Anya ill and not working. There were customers out there, but many of them were regulars, who hurried past, wrapped in coats and faces down, feet treading a path trodden many times before. Deeta had seen a man who she knew to be one of Olo's come in a few minutes before.
Shivering, she wrapped her arms tighter around herself and leaned back over the railings, shaking her hair over her shoulders till the curls whipped around her face in the wind. Scanning the men below, she spotted one of Anya's many regulars heading towards their door, tugging a smaller figure behind. A few minutes later, Senna's voice rang from inside, summoning them both in from the cold.
"An, it's Ferny for you, but he's brought his son, and it's his first time." Senna explained as she led the way down the narrow stairs. Deeta had guessed as much – many men considered it their duty to show their sons around Witches Way, if only to ensure that they didn't try and go there on their own and end up getting stabbed. They rounded the landing and Anya smiled at the man. "Hello, Bill." she purred, stepping round Senna to wrap an arm round Bill Ferny's waist. She was a completely different person whilst she was around customers, and whoever had taught her, had taught her well. Bill Ferny was a sneaking, skulky man, who always smelt of beer. His son obviously took after his mother, since he was a thin boy with cropped blonde hair, who seemed to be fading into the shadows behind him. He looked to be around Olo's age, maybe 16 or 17. His father clapped an arm around him and shoved him forward, into the light from the lantern. "Well, Barns." he asked stridently, "Which do you want?"
Bill leered at Senna and Deeta, standing on the stairs. He had visited both of them on the occasions when Anya had been indisposed, as well as Olo, and none of the occupants of the house had the slightest affection for the man. "That one," he pointed at Senna, who looked at the boy from under her eyelashes "is a classic, but that one," he nodded now at Deeta, standing behind Senna "ain't as delicate as she looks!" He laughed uproariously at his own wit, obviously drunk, and Senna and Deeta exchanged forced smiles.
The boy nodded at Deeta, who looked demurely down at the stairs. "That one." Bill looked at Senna.
"25 for Anya and 20 for Deeta." she told him. "Both of them have other customers due tonight."
Bill squeezed Anya's shoulder tightly towards him. "Nothing is too good for my Anya." he agreed. "But, considering my loyalty as a purchaser of your services, surely the girl...?"
"20." she told him firmly. He laughed again, looking slightly less pleased, but pulled out some coins and gave them to Senna. She smiled winningly at him, and led them up the stairs to the first floor, the "entertaining" floor. "You're costing me, boy!" he told his son, following Senna. Remember what I told you – don't be gentle, get what I paid for!" Deeta thought to herself that Bill was, if not a good man, at least a man who followed his own advice. After he had "purchased her services", she had had bruises up and down her arms for days. One of the doors was already closed, and Anya headed straight for the one on the far left, with a surety born of many former experiences. Letting the man in first, she shared a resigned look with the other two and closed the door. Anya was just as repulsed by the drunkard as the rest of the house.
Senna hurried back downstairs, hearing a man's voice, and Deeta turned to the boy – Barns – putting a smile on her face. "And where would sir like to go?" she asked him, her customer face firmly in place. He looked unsure, but strode for the room on the right. Deeta followed, trying to guess what the boy wanted. From the look of him, he needed to be told what to do, but she was still not as good at this guessing game as the others, and she'd been wrong in the past. Closing the door behind her, she turned. The boy was sitting on the bed. He looked a little scared, but when he realised that she had noticed, his face turned ugly, and he sneered at her. Standing up, he strode over to her and pulled her down onto the bed, seizing both arms and pinning them above her head. Deeta tried to look like she was enjoying the cruel treatment, and knew immediately that this boy was absolutely his father's son. He got his pleasure from power. His mouth met her with a rough force that would leave her lips swollen, and he knelt over her, forcing down her legs and hips, and leaving her unable to move. His lips removed themselves, and he sat back, sitting right on top of Deeta's hip bones. She made the sound that she knew men like this wanted to hear, a moan that was scared, but lustful at the same time, and the boy's hand found the top of her bodice buttons. He ripped them open – somewhere in Deeta's mind a voice said that she would have to add some to his bill for ruining her bodice – and then started on the shirt beneath. Her own hands, now free, undid his shirt, and he kicked off his shoes as he threw her shirt to one side, leaving Deeta in her skirt, underskirt, tights and breastband, and him in his breeches and presumably loincloth. Her fingers slid round the top of his breeches, and just below them, and he moaned with pleasure, throwing back his head. She tried to pull them down, but he would have to stand to do that. He rolled off her, and pulled them off himself, till he was in a simple loincloth, held by just a knot. Taking the opportunity to breath, she slid off her own shoes and tights, and then her underskirt, before he was on top of her again. She could feel him through his loincloth as he kissed her, sliding his hands down and round her back. Pushing himself up, he slid forward until his crotch was almost directly in her face, and she realised what he wanted. She made a move to get up, and pulled him gently so that she was kneeling on the floor and he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Her hands slid under his loincloth, and he shuddered, before pulling the knot that held them up himself and shoving himself into her mouth. Stopping herself shuddering, she did as he wanted, and he moaned loudly. She stopped just before he was about to. He frowned, grabbing her arm as she stood. "Bitch, get back down."
Trying not to show how irritated she was, she didn't reply, and instead pulled off her breastband, fiddling seductively with the edge of her skirt. The naked boy pulled her onto the bed again, harder than she expected, and yanked up her skirt, not bothering to remove it. She heard another rip, and wondered how much thread was costing at the moment as he knelt on top of her and slammed in. Closing her eyes in apparent ecstasy, she thrust in and out as the boy moaned.
Just like his father, she concluded, trying to decide how much extra she should add on for the rips.
In the end, she only added on 7 for the rips, which the boy seemed more amused by than sorry for. Senna put an arm around her as the boy and his father disappeared down the street. "We can do the rest of the night." Senna told Deeta and Anya, both sporting red marks which would be impressive bruises by the morning. About to argue, Deeta saw Anya disappear up to the second floor, where the real bedrooms were, and followed, waving goodnight to Olo and Senna.
The next morning was bright, a cold and sunny spring morning. Deeta awoke in a slightly undignified manner, tangled in her blankets and half off the pallet on the floor that was her bed. Blinking sleepily, she pulled one of her blankets over her shoulders and looked over at the bed, where Olo lay. She was still asleep, masses of black curls obscuring her face. Tiptoeing out of the room, Deeta crept down the stairs, trying not to wake anybody, and went to the kitchen. The kitchen was old even by Bree's standards, rusting and with ram-shackle furniture, but large and cold.
Anya was already up, sitting on one of the rough wooden chairs round the table and sipping some pungent smelling pennyroyal tea. Smiling at Deeta, she pointed at the stove, where a small pot of pennyroyal was simmering. Picking up her cup – a rough wooden cup that she had carved DEETA'S CUP into, the day Senna taught her how to write a little – Deeta scooped up some tea and swallowed, making a face at the bitterness. It always threw off her appetite, and she had to have it four times a day. Everyone did. It was one of Mrs Glyfoird's unbreakable rules. If you wanted to be on Witches Way, you drank the pennyroyal, regardless of how dangerous it was and how it could ruin your hopes of a child of your own. Everyone knew if you didn't drink the pennyroyal. The whole town watched as your stomach grew, and grew, because Mrs Glyfoird would have thrown you out of the house the moment you started to show.
Everyone looked worse in the daylight. That was an occupational hazard when you stayed up all night. All girls had huge smudges under their eyes, and most had pale faces. Anya looked particularly tired, and Deeta could see new bruises on her shoulders, in the shape of fat, podgy hands. She looked down at her own arms and shoulders, and saw spidery shadows tracing them down to her wrists. She winced, and went to sit on the floor next to Anya, resting her head on Anya's leg. Anya's hand wound itself through her hair, and she murmured absent-mindedly "We need to comb your hair, Dee. It's getting a bit out of control." They always agreed that she needed to do this, but somehow no one ever found the time. Olo's hair was silky and brushed through easily, falling back into its ringlets, and Senna's straight red locks were fine, as were Anya's waves of dark chestnut, but Deeta's curls were wild and tangled so easily, that no one had ever really see her with hair neat enough to pass as tidy.
They sat quietly for a while, and then Deeta roused herself to go and get dressed. She went quietly back up the stairs, and into her room, but Olo was already awake, and she could hear movement in Anya and Senna's room, so she abandoned her plan of silence and conversed quietly with Olo as she got dressed. She put on more layers than she usually did – two underskirts, her thickest tights, a vest and top under her shirt and bodice – and pulled a blanket over her shoulders as well. "Has anyone seen my cloak?" she called, looking under her pallet. "On the table!" floated Senna's voice from downstairs. She hurried down and accepted it from Senna, who was holding it in one hand and sipping pennyroyal from the other. She smiled her thanks and turned obediently so that Senna could wrap the bundle of frizz on her head into something resembling a bun. Securing it with string begged from the tailor, Senna turned her round and fastened her cloak, then smiled and nodded her on her way. Deeta grabbed the large basket that lay by the door, and set off down Witches Way. She hurried past the lower houses, waving hallos to some of the other girls who were up, and then turned left at the end of the road to get onto the main street. Passing the The Prancing Pony, which appeared to be doing a roaring trade in guests, judging from the smell of eggs and bacon inside, she joined the flow of women and girls heading towards the river to do the wash and get water. She avoided the other's eyes – Mrs Glyfoird's girls were not well thought of among the women of Bree. Deeta thought that they probably didn't know how many of their husbands and sons provided them with their business.
They had left the town now, but the path was wide and well trodden from generations of women walking it twice a day. Reaching the stream, most women tried to get as far upstream as possible. As a Glyfoird girl, the townspeople thought bad enough of her already without her trying to steal the best washing spots. Instead, he feet led her about three quarters of the way down the length of the stream that was used for washing. It was a cold enough day that there were few people around this far down the stream, so she set about the washing in peace, undoing the basket and starting on the sheets.
As usual, the water was freezing, and soon her hands were white and her fingers red from scrubbing. She had 6 sheets to do, and as she squeezed them all out and put them back in the basket, she considered the other jobs there were to do today. The washing was being taken care of, obviously, and she had to mend her bodice and underskirt. The underskirt was fine, as it was black and she already had black thread, but the bodice was red, so she would have to go and see the tailor again. Putting the last of the sheets in the basket, she started on the various undergarments. A tear in her white shirt could be mended with thread borrowed from Senna. Then she needed to do some more work on Anya's Birth-Day present – a waistcoat, made out of dark blue black velvet scavenged from one of the favourites who had an old blue dress she didn't want, and soon to be covered in embroidered stars. The only other thing that she needed to do was get some food – meat or vegetables, whatever they could get. She finished the final pair of tights and moved onto the shirts, mentally reviewing the household finances. If they bought meat, they would have to go into the forest for vegetables for a good few weeks, but if they didn't then they could afford some nice potatoes and some pretty ribbons from town. She frowned, finishing the shirts and starting the skirts. She was sick of vegetables, and usually when they bought meat they made a bit of a party of it and had some of the other girls round.
She would have to ask the others, she decided, starting on the last piece of washing. This was Olo's, although she let the others borrow it – a real corset, not just cloth with hook and eye holds, but a stiff linen corset, laced up the back and with beautiful embroidery around the eyelets. She scrubbed it gently, and added a reminder to buy some potatoes for starch. Leaning back on her heels, she shook the corset out and put it on a rock to drain for a bit. Standing, Deeta winced as her legs worked out the cramps, and examined the new muddy stains on her skirt with shivering fingers. She had knelt on the rocks, but apparently her skirt had not stayed where it was meant to. About to try and wash it, Deeta eyed the freezing water and decided better of it. Placing the corset carefully back into the washing basket, she wiped her hands on her cloak and grabbed the four buckets. Filling them two by two, she hooked them onto the stick of wood that she carried them by, then strapped the basket on by the leather straps that dug into the bruises on her shoulders. She stuck her hands on her hips and frowned at the piece of wood holding the buckets. This was the part she always hated, regardless of other factors. She strained to pull up the stick and rest it on her shoulders, but it stayed stubbornly stuck to the ground. She was just in the mood to kick over the buckets, when a quiet voice asked "Would you require assistance?"
She swivelled and her eyes met a dark haired man, dressed in the dull greens and blacks of a Ranger, and looking to be around 25 to 30 – although so often it was impossible to tell with these men. She took an involuntary step back, and then shook herself mentally. The people of Bree, respectable or not, all gossiped about the rangers, but that was no reason to be scared of them. She nodded. "Thank you."
He stepped forward and lifted the wood with ease, balancing it on the basket. She shook her shoulders to settle the straps, and nodded warily at him. "Your kindness is appreciated." she told him, using the formal address of thanks. He nodded, and moved to walk in front of her. He paused and looked back when she didn't start walking.
"You are not coming back to town?"
Startled, she caught up with him and they walked to town. She wondered if he realised that she was not the best person to be seen walking to town with, and that she would also be made the subject of even more gossip. They walked in silence up the track to Bree, Deeta feeling slightly awkward. As they reached the main road, he asked quietly, in a gravelly voice, "Are you sure I could not help this lady carry her things back home, seeing as she appears to have no sweetheart to carry them for her?"
This startled a laugh out of Deeta. She stopped and looked at the man, unsure if he was joking or not. The man looked back at her and she thought she saw a flash of a smile across his face. She smiled uncertainly back and told him frankly "I, Master Ranger, am not the girl you want to be seen helping, in case you hadn't guessed." Or, he had guessed, and was hoping to get something out of her in exchange – but looking into this man's eyes, Deeta thought (hoped) that this wasn't the case.
He shrugged. "Do you think I do not already have a reputation among the townspeople here, being who I am?" he wanted to know. "I am sure one more such aspersion upon my character will not kill me." Without waiting for an answer this time, he lifted the water carrier off the basket and rested it across his own shoulders, seeming not to notice the weight. Gratefully, Deeta rubbed the bruises on her shoulder and eyed him curiously. She decided to play this man at his own game.
"And am I to know my gallant rescuers name?" she asked.
"I go by Halite in these parts. Am I to know this noble maid's name?"
"Deeta of Bree. And where would these other parts that you hail from be, Sir Halite, where you are known by other names?"
"Why, Lady Deeta-" he grinned at her and suddenly looked younger and more mischievious "-to tell you that, we would have to spend a great deal more time together than I fear we may have. Do we turn off anywhere?"
"Oh, maggots." she said crossly, suddenly realising that they had just walked past the turning for Witches Way. "Just back here – are you laughing at me?"
"Oh, maggots?" He was laughing. "Such foul language from someone so young?"
"I'm older than my years would have it." Deeta threw back at him, turning down the final alley before Witches Way. "If you want to stop here – I understand that you may not want to follow..."
He frowned. "This is Thumble Road, is it not? Why do we turn down here?"
Deeta sighed. She had been hoping too much for a man who knew who she was to treat her with the courtesy Halite had. A foreigner in these parts – why should she have assumed that he knew her profession?
But he had not run yet, and was looking at her still, with unnervingly acute eyes. "You are awfully young, surely, to be inhabiting Thumble Road." he inquired.
"I earn my keep here on Thumble Road. I am sorry, I was under the impression you had realised who I would be." she said stiffly. "If you leave the water here I can carry it."
He looked at her a moment longer, then strode on down Witches Way. "Lady Deeta, I am sure you are still a Lady, wherever you inhabit." he called over his shoulder. Deeta stood for a second, then started laughing, and ran to catch him up. "You truly have no inhibitions about this?"
"Truly."
"Then you are a rare man indeed." Ignoring the looks she was getting from girls talking to each other over their balconies, and hanging over their washing, Deeta led Halite up the road and to the house. Senna was already hanging up the washing line outside the balcony, preparing for the washing to be hung over it, and called out a hallo as she saw Deeta walking up the street, Halite behind her. "You have a friend, Deeta?"
Smiling at her, Deeta led Halite inside and into the kitchen, which was warming up in the morning sun. Anya had thrown the creaky windows open that lined the back of the room, and she and Olo were conducting their usual daily sweep of the house, Olo singing a popular ballad of the times in her bell-like voice. Even dressed in her plain white skirts, and blue cloth bodice, Olo looked like a beautiful vision in the sunlight, singing and dancing round the kitchen like an elf. Anya joined in, humming along, and Senna's voice could be heard upstairs singing the same melody. The kitchen was flooded with sunlight, and Deeta decided that this was no bad place to be.
"If sir would be so kind as to put the water on the table?" Deeta asked him, placing the basket on the floor. "Olo, Anya, this is Halite."
Halite bowed politely. "I am delighted to meet two more such sophisticated ladies."
Anya glanced at Deeta, obviously having the same thought that she had had – what was this man out to get? Olo, however, appeared to have no such doubts, and swept into a grand curtsey, holding out imaginary skirts and sinking low enough to honour a king. "My lord," she intoned solemnly. "It is a honour to make an acquaintance with such a dignified and respected man. I hope you can bring yourself to stoop to our lowly table."
Deeta glanced at Anya, mouth quirking slightly. Anya was stifling a laugh. Halite looked slightly taken aback as Olo flourished her skirts extravagantly. There was a moment of silence, before Halite came back with "M'lady, I thank you for your generosity, for we all know that you are merely jesting, when you yourself rule these rich lands around us." He sank back into an even lower bow, hand held behind his back and a look of exaggerated humility on his face.
Both of the others burst out laughing as Halite smirked at Olo, who grinned at him. "I like your new friend, Deeta." Olo said, returning back to her cloth and starting to wipe down the table again.
"Indeed, and we can thank him for his help in bringing the water in." Deeta looked at Anya for permission, and she nodded. "And I am sure, Halite, that I speak for the household when I say that you are welcome to join us in lunch, which will be in a scant hour or less – although the fare may be slightly less than you would get at the inns."
"I would not want to impose myself -"
"Never." Anya interrupted firmly. "It would be rudeness itself to suggest that. Please, feel free to stay."
"In that case, honoured ladies, I accept with pleasure. But may I make myself useful in some fashion before we eat? These hands are not used to being idle."
"No more honoured ladies." Deeta told him firmly, pointing at the basket. "Deeta, Anya, and Olo. And we shall call you Halite and we shall all be friends." He chuckled, picking up the basket as directed. "I am happy to have such friends." She led the way upstairs and caught Senna's arm as she passed her on the way down.
"Senna, this is Halite. Halite, Senna. Halite is to be treated as any other, Senna. And you can tell all the gossips outside that as well." The two girls grinned at each other, and Senna nodded in a friendly fashion to Halite, who reciprocated in kind.
They came out onto the balcony, on the first floor. Here, each house had a line where washing could be strung to dry, and most mornings the upper half of Witches Way was white and coloured with sheets and clothes flapping in the wind. "Sheets on the left, clothes on the right, sheets can overlap, flop them over and straighten them so that there are as few creases as possible." she told Halite. "Actually – leave the skirts and shirts to me, there's a knack to hanging them." Halite picked up a sheet and started on the left, and Deeta shook out one of the skirts, rummaging in a pocket for her pegs. She basked in the sunlight as she pinned up the skirts, enjoying the cheerful feeling on the street. Always, she loved the joy that couldn't help but make itself felt when there was sun around. The whole street brightened up from the feeling of general smuttiness that pervaded it in winter, and people came out of doors, and sang, and laughed, and talked to their neighbours. Girls walking along the street called hallo, and made lewd suggestions about what Halite was doing up on the balcony, sharing a laugh with Deeta. It always surprised her how in their business, the girls could still find these things amusing, with all the innocence of a virgin maid. Halite laughed with them, talking and joking easily. She considered him out of the corner of her eye, trying to straighten one of the sheets. He was comfortable among them, and there was something about him that made them relax, and know – as she had known – that here was a man of good intentions.
"So what does a Ranger do, coming from the east?" she asked him. "Usually your people come in groups, and approach from the south."
"I had business that way." he answered, seemingly very interested in the sheet that he was hanging. "I may ask you – since we are now friends – how a girl of 14? 13? Ended up here?"
"Many round here do not know their Birth-Date, and I am one, but surely I could pass for older than 14?"
He looked at her, and quirked his lip. "Maybe with a bit more meat on you." he teased.
"And how old are you?"
"Why all the questions?"
"Why no answers?"
"Because I am a noble and lofty man who need not bother himself with a chit of a girl asking impertinent questions." he proclaimed, striking a pose and sticking his nose in the air. His dignity was somewhat ruined by a gust of wind that blew the sheet he was holding over his head. Deeta grinned and untangled him.
"May I know why you are in Bree? Business, I presume?"
"Business indeed."
"How long are you staying?"
Halite shrugged, trying to straighten the last sheet. "It depends. Both on how long my business will take me, and for how long I can afford The Prancing Pony. Mr Barliman's prices seem to have risen considerably since my last visit." he added with a frown.
Deeta nodded. "Hard times call for more money, and the inn is sorely in need of repairs to its roof – the whole town knows that."
"Well, my business should take no longer than a week, but my money may only see me through for four or less days." he admitted with a frown. "I suspect I may need to gather more funds before I attempt any new adventures, and that involves a lengthy trip home."
Deeta considered asking where home was, but knew she wouldn't get an answer. She stuffed the corset with the cloth that ensured it would dry in shape, and went to help Halite, who was still struggling with his final sheet. She straightened it and they stood on the balcony for a second, looking over the street and all the girls up and down it. "Sewing." Deeta mumbled absently.
"What?"
"Oh, I have some sewing to do before lunch. We'll go down to the kitchen and I can do it there." Retrieving the items that needed mending and the thread and needles from her room, they returned downstairs, where Senna was puzzling over the money laid on the table, Olo was practicing her writing, and Anya was already doing some of her own mending. Deeta and Halite pulled up chairs, and Halite insisted on being allowed to do some of the sewing, which he proved himself to be very handy at. They chatted idly as everyone worked about matters of no importance, and the few subtle inquiries that the other girls made about what Halite was doing were politely but firmly rebuffed. Soon, the talk turned to lunch.
"Well," Senna proclaimed, looking up from her slate, "we have enough for a good cut of meat for dinner tonight, if we are prepared to forage for food for a few weeks. Then we could have stew for lunch. Or we could not buy meat, and have plentiful supplies of vegetables for a while. And we could buy some ribbons."
Anya looked up from her own mending. "I vote for meat. We never have meat, and I'm sick of being sensible and spending sensibly. We could make a party of it. Halite could come." she added, grinning at him. Deeta nodded her agreement, and Olo waved her chalk in affirmation. Senna nodded briskly. "Who wants to buy it? Deeta, you're excused if you want, since you did the washing."
"I'll go." Anya volunteered.
"If you want help..." offered Halite, but Anya shook her head.
"Don't worry about it." She put her sewing on the table and stood. "I'll get us some more pennyroyal as well, and Senn, we could do with some more tea unless we want to miss one and have it at lunch." Senna shuddered and jumped up, going straight to the stove.
"I'll make it now, I can't stand drinking that stuff at meals."
"Pennyroyal?" Halite looked concerned as Anya went into the hall. "Why do you drink pennyroyal? Surely you know that it's a poison?"
Olo pursed her lips and looked down; Deeta avoided Halites's eyes. It was left to straight-forward Senna to explain. "You know our business, Halite." she stated plainly. "We cannot afford to beget with child. We would be thrown out, and both mother and child would die."
"You take it as a preventative measure?" Halite looked aghast. "But it could make you permanently barren – or kill you!"
Senna shrugged. "We have no choice. Pennyroyal is expensive, but it's the cheapest we can afford. The safest drugs would cost us hundreds, hundreds that we don't have. That's just the way it is."
"So every girl on this street takes regular does of pennyroyal?" Halite looked like he was squashing down fury, but a poke from Deeta and he subsided into his chair.
"We were talking about The Prancing Pony's prices." Deeta told the others, hoping to steer the conversation onto safer ground. "Halite was saying that he may have to wind his business down sooner than he expected."
Halite nodded. "My funds were not expecting to be stretched so far." he said, tying a knot in the tear he had been sewing, and starting on a new one.
Senna looked up and met Deeta and Olo's eyes, both of the younger girls making appealing faces at her. She sighed, and mouthed "Another mouth?" at them. Olo rubbed her fingers together and nodded at Halite, raising her eyebrows, and mouthing back "And he's funny!" Deeta had the feeling that although Halite was studiously concentrating on his sewing, he knew exactly what was going on around him.
Senna raised her hands in silent surrender to the pleading looks, and said "I'm sure, Halite, that if you are not bothered by nightime activities on the street, we can offer you a bedroom and lodging for a week on the top floor."
Halite looked up. "Are you sure? I mean, I'm not bothered by any business you might have to do, and I insist on contributing something to the house funds, but I don't want to be an unwanted intruder.."
Deeta shook her head. "As long as you don't mind us working, then you're welcome to stay wherever you want."
"How much would you ask for? My funds are too small for the Prancing Pony, but I will contribute as much as I can."
"Well... since it's between friends, how about 30 for the whole week?" Senna suggested, with a glance at the floorboard that the girls knew contained their moneybags underneath. Halite looked delighted.
"That is a tiny amount indeed, Senna, and I insist on 50 – I can easily afford it." he told her. "I'm not that poor!"
Senna smiled, and stuck her hand out, as a man would, to seal the deal. Not batting an eyelid, Halite shook, and so a bargain was struck. Halite disappeared to go and retrieve his bags, after assuring the girls that he could find the house again.
He did find the house again, and came back carrying a plain black bundle, and a smaller cloth wrapped around some herbs. Laying his bundle to one side, he spread the herbs on the table as the girls crowded round to look at them. "I saw them on my way back here, and wondered if you could use them for cooking."
Anya, who did most of the cooking, wrinkled her nose doubtfully, rubbing one of the herbs in her fingers. "They seem very dry. I've never seen them before, are they safe?"
"Safer than pennyroyal, and I can show you how to cook them. An old friend of mine once taught me how to make an unusually filling stew from these." His smile had a trace of nostalgia in it, but everyone was distracted as a large leg of lamb came into the room, closely followed by Anya. "Lamb!" exclaimed Deeta and Olo, gleefully and in unison.
Deeta and Olo – neither of whom had any talent at cooking, were sent to invite some of the girls from the houses around, whilst Senna, Anya and Halite scraped together some food to go with the meat. In the end, about 10 other girls accepted the invitation, and sent the two younger girls back, sometimes with a bit of extra food to go with the meal. In the end, there was quite a good crowd of them there, as the sun began to fall at 5. One of the other houses had a mandolin, and there was singing and dancing, with Halite much in demand as a partner. The food stretched to feed them all, and everyone got a bite or two of the meat, which Halite – as promised – had served with the unappetizing-looking herbs. They proved delicious, and he was much feted along with Anya and Senna as the makers of the feast. As the town bell rang half six, eventime, girls waved cheerfully goodbye and scattered out of the house, leaving their plates neatly in the sink and calling promises of help cleaning up tomorrow over their shoulders. Anya and Olo disappeared upstairs to prepare for the night's customers, but Deeta hovered at the door as Senna instructed Halite. "You can stay down here in the kitchen, or go up to your room – or me and Olo stay down here if you want to talk to us in the hall, but you'll have to stay in the hall and only in the hall. Don't go into any of the middle floor bedrooms, whatever happens, and don't talk to Anya while she's working – Anya has a reputation and it would not be good for you two to be seen together. Deeta, stop looking so nervous, I'm not throwing him out. Show him up to his room and go get ready, love."
Deeta pulled Halite up the stairs to the top, going into the room she and Olo shared, and shook her pallet out, trying to untangle her blankets at the same time. "You'll sleep here." she told him.
"Where would you sleep?"
"Me and Olo'll share. We sometimes do even when there are two beds. Now you, turn around and face the wall while we get changed."
As Deeta tried to find her night clothes, Olo told Halite cheerfully "If we had a reputation, you'd be ruining it right now, I hope you realise."
"I can still find other lodgings-"
"A jest, Halite! Dee, could you button me up?" Deeta's fingers easily slipped through the buttons, made specifically by Senna to undo and redo easily, and then she turned for Olo to do her up. "Okay, we're decent now." Halite turned back round to face them as they began to apply lip red and the black powder that made your eyes glitter and stand out. "Do you stay up here, Halite?"
"I think I may talk with Senna in the hall for a while." He accompanied them downstairs, and went into the kitchen, returning with two chairs. He set one out for Senna, who smiled at him in thanks, although she remained standing by the door, and sat on the other himself. Senna surveyed the two younger girls – Anya was already on the balcony, it seemed – and smiled fondly at them.
"Then I think we are open for business." she said, opening the door and putting on the pout that the girls knew meant it was customer time. Olo disappeared to the window, to sit and wave seductively, and Deeta made her way upstairs to the balcony, thanking the powers that the wind was not quite as bitter as it been yesterday. She could hear soft conversation from downstairs, and sat quietly, watching the slowly increasing numbers of men parading the street. As the night began to liven, she sighed, and put on a smile, leaning forward.
Halbarad woke very early that morning, stretching out the kinks in his back. He frowned, wondering how Deeta managed to sleep on the thin pallet every night, as his gaze found the two bony girls with arms wrapped round each other, tangled in the bedcovers and both still asleep, dark hollows under their eyes and blonde black curls covering the pillow. Now, faces immobile with tiredness, both girls looked far too young to be working and living like this. He guessed that they had probably only gone to bed two hours or so before, judging from the level of the sun, and he winced, remembering what they would have been doing.
Silently, he pulled a soft tunic from his pack and slipped it on over the trousers he already wore, then padded down the stairs to the kitchen. He opened the windows, which had been closed last night, and let the whitebright early morning sunlight in. Looking round, he found the single bucket of water left from the four he and Deeta had carried back yesterday, and poured it into a large pot on the stove, beginning the pile of washing up that filled the porcelain sink. Deeta. He considered her as he started to clean. He had approached her simply because she was struggling, and then seen the bruises lining her arms. He had been genuinely oblivious to her profession – indeed, it had not even passed his mind that a girl who looked so young would be allowed to work by her family. He supposed that when her family were in the same circumstances as her, there were not many other options.
But they were beautiful, friendly, lively girls, however ill-fed they were and whatever they did to earn their food. Olo – he would not be surprised if, somewhere back in her line, she had a man or woman of numenor as an ancestor, or even – he chuckled at the thought of the look a citizen of Rivendale would give him at this – an elf, who had inadvertently parented a child. No, fathered a child – an elleth would surely not have been able to give up her child, so it would be an elf who was completely unaware of his child. But you could see it in the way she danced and sang, that there were noble parents there. Anya was beautiful, that was for sure, but hers was a very human, earthy beauty, voluptuous and as uncertain and fleeting as humans themselves at times. Deeta had the same unearthly quality as Olo, but in her case he feared that it was all too due to underfeeding and a tendency to illness than elves.
He looked up as Senna came into the room, looking exhausted, even more so than she had the day before. She looked at him, startled, as she noticed the washing. "Halite, it's very kind of you, but I am happy to do it."
"You look exhausted." He told her frankly. "You are already feeding and lodging me, please allow me to make some small return."
She made as if to argue, and then sank down into a chair, rubbing her eyes. "Thank you."
They sat in silence for a while, before Halbarad struck up a conversation. "Deeta and Olo are very young to be working, surely?" he said, looking carefully at the washing. "And maybe you as well." He felt, rather than saw her nod and sigh.
"I started working when I was 15." she said wearily. "That was 5 years ago, and even then I was not the youngest. Deeta has been working for near four years now, some of the girls down the lower end of the street are her age as well. We have no choice. What with the things that have been happening lately, there is no way we can travel, no way we can work ourselves out of here. Mrs Glyfoird sees to that." she added with bitterness. "What other options do we have?"
Halbarad stayed quiet, having no answer to this, and Senna left her question unanswered. When he glanced at her a few minutes later, her head had slipped down to rest on her arms, and she was breathing quietly. He looked at her for a moment, red hair blazing in the sun, and realised she was dressed only in a nightgown and the thin overcoat sometimes worn with it. He shivered, wondering how she could stand the cold, and left the washing, scooping her gently up in his arms. It was shamefully easy, and he carried her up the stairs to the bedrooms. Hesitating, he made for the bedroom that he knew did not contain Deeta and Olo, and nudged the door open. The room was tiny, and mostly taken up by a wide bed, with a few bundles of girls clothing spread around the edges. Anya slept on one side of the bed, face dreamy and relaxed, so he placed Senna on the other and pulled some of the blankets gently over her. Returning downstairs, he sat dis-spiritedly at the table.
Every moment he spent here, he grew both more attached to the girls and more repulsed by their lives. He was a regular visitor to Bree, and had always been well aware of its dark side, having heard the gossip and lewd suggestions in the taverns, but never had he realised the extent of the problem. Deeta was working at 10? And Olo could barely be older than her, a few years at most. Anya seemed to be, somehow, the most capable of this work. The times he had seen her last night, she had seemed to somehow detach herself, be a different person when she was with the men. Not like Senna. He could see in her eyes that this was burning her out, wearing down her soul – having to put prices on her friends, having to price even herself and looking after the household, working out what they could afford, with no rest at night and little at day. It hurt him to see such a beautiful girl, trodden down into the dirt because she could not afford to raise herself out of it. For she was beautiful, although by many men he knew she would be considered odd looking, with the red hair so rare in this part of the country – in most parts of Arda. But to him it shone like copper, fine and glistening, set beautifully by blue eyes, with a wash of green over them that hid to the world her tired core.
"Brooding?" Olo had come down into the kitchen, and was scrutinising him through unreadable eyes. He grinned at her, moving his thoughts away from depressing topics and greeting her a good morning.
He stayed there for exactly one week, enough time to extract the information from Butterbur that he needed, and by the time that week was over he knew that he needed to get back to Rivendale, to replenish his stores and report his findings to Elrond. He bid farewell to the girls with not a small misgiving about how they would look after themselves, and had to remind himself several times that they had managed for years on their own. They waved him off, Senna giving him a quick hug and pulling away, a blush on her cheeks. He had hoped he wasn't blushing as well, since it would have been rather undignified for a "mysterious" ranger. From the mischievous look Deeta gave him as she walked him to the edge of town, he rather thought he had been.
They reached the edge of the town sooner than he would have hoped, and he turned to face Deeta with a smile. "Thank you." he said sincerely, sweeping her into a hug and immediately regretting the rash action. But Deeta hugged him back, and when they pulled apart, told him "If you're ever in town again, whether you have the funds or not, there will always be a room – well, a bed – at our home."
He nodded, and they both looked at each other for a second before Deeta grinned and turned to walk away, calling over her shoulder "And I'll tell Senna you send your love!"
About to protest, he smiled fondly at the thin retreating back, and turned himself to begin the long hike back to Rivendale. It would take him several days to reach the border and alert the elven guards, who could get him a horse. He chanced only one glance behind him, and smiled as the defiant young girl turned a corner, out of sight.
-
So I hope you like it! Literally, a one word review of "Continue" or a two word one of "Don't Continue" are great by me. If you're feeling particularly loquacious, then feel free to give me some con crit.