It was going to be another late night at the Drunken Steward. Gretchen Mills leaned over the bar, trying to take some weight off her tired feet. It was a dark, gloomy night, pouring down buckets of rain. Those here now would likely be staying until the last call.

"You look tired." Gretchen's cousin Peter came out from the kitchen.

"What gave me away?" she smiled wearily.

"It looked like you need some help out here."

"That would be nice." Gretchen stood back on her feet, wincing a little. "I'll start taking orders, you can get the tap." Peter nodded.

Gretchen walked to the end of the bar, where two young men stood waiting. One of them quickly scribbled something into a book.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" she asked them, trying to appear as energetic as she could.

"Yes, actually," said one, smiling in a way which some people might have found charming, but which Gretchen found a little sleazy. "We'd like to book a room for a few nights."

"Oh! Excellent." Gretchen brought out a leather-bound ledger from below the counter, and a pen. "Just sign your names here, put down today's date and one night's payment. I'll get your key. She leaned down and opened a cupboard behind her, removing one room key from a hook.

"All right Herr…" she glanced at the ledger, "…Grimm, you'll be in room five. Here's the key. You sirs feel free to have a drink or something to eat. Last call's at 2 A.M."

"We shall, thank you." Another charming/sleazy grin, and a nod from the other bespectacled young man, and they were off. Gretchen returned to the bar.

"So we've got some lodgers, then?" Peter asked.

"Yep. Two fellows named Grimm." Gretchen's cousin gaped at her.

"Surely you're not serious!"

"Why? What's so special about them?"

"They're the ones who killed that witch-queen in Marbaden last November. They wrote the book we've been reading, Gretchen!"

"Oh, of course! I thought there was something familiar about the name."

"Dad will be over the moon. Imagine! The Brothers Grimm staying at the Drunken Steward!"

"Well, I imagine they've got to sleep somewhere when they travel. Anyway, the one who talked to me seemed a bit of a sleaze."

"Ahem," came a voice from behind them. Gretchen turned around. One of their new lodgers, the one with the glasses, was standing at the bar.

Gretchen flushed, embarrassed. Peter just stared. "Good evening again, sir. What'll you have?"

"Two pints of bitter, please," he said, with a hint of amusement.

"Right away." Gretchen elbowed Peter in the ribs.

"Oh, right!" Peter grabbed two tankards. Gretchen turned back to her customer.

"So, what brings you to Schatzberg?" she asked him.

"Er, we're just passing through."

"From what your brother was saying, it sounds like you'll be here longer than 'just passing through'. Here're your pints," she added as Peter placed the two foaming tankards on the counter.

"Thanks." The lodger took the two tankards back to a table where his brother was already deep in conversation with Sonya the kitchen-maid.

"Isn't she supposed to be on dish duty?" Peter asked.

"Yes. And on a night like this, she shouldn't be venturing out of the kitchen. You want me to handle her?"

"You'd better. I'll handle the customers." Peter turned to a group of men facing him with empty tankards and impatient faces. Gretchen ducked under the end of the counter and made her way over to the table.

"…So, how many kitchen-maids did you say worked here?" the charming-sleazy Grimm brother was saying to Sonya as Gretchen arrived.

"Sonya, you need to be in the kitchen."

"But…" Sonya protested.

"You. Kitchen. Now. No excuses." Sonya opened her mouth to say something. "I know who they are, and I don't care if they're demon hunters or the messengers of God himself. You've got a job to do." Sonya shot daggers at her as she walked back to the kitchen. Gretchen turned toward the brothers. "I'm sorry I had to cut that little chat short, gentlemen. I'm sure it was of the utmost importance (a look at charming-Grimm), but we're terribly busy tonight. I'd better be heading back to the bar myself. Enjoy the ale." Gretchen smiled as politely as she could muster and walked back to the counter.

"Good job," Peter told her.

"Thanks. I tell you, those fellows haven't even been here one night and already I don't like them."

"Maybe that's what comes of celebrity."

"If that's true, then I never want to be famous."

"Me either." Spectacles was back. Again, Gretchen felt herself go red. "Sounds atrocious." He grinned.

"I'm sorry, did you need a refill?" Gretchen asked, a little miffed.

"No, just some conversation. My brother's nice; don't get me wrong, but after a few months on the road…"

Or a few minutes off it, Gretchen thought to herself. "We're a little busy, Herr Grimm," she said coldly.

"I can handle it," Peter said quickly. Gretchen glared at her cousin, who grinned impishly back.

"I think we've started off on the wrong foot here," Spectacles said.

"Funny how that happens sometimes," Gretchen replied.

"Anyway, we were never properly introduced." Spectacles stuck out a hand. "My name's Jacob Grimm. What's yours?"

Just humor him and maybe he'll go away, Gretchen thought. She shook Jacob's hand. "I'm Gretchen Miller."

"A pleasure to meet you."

"So you and your brother are the ones who helped find all those girls in Marbaden last year?"

"…In a manner of speaking, yes. I'm not about to flaunt it."

"My cousin's a big fan. We've been working our way through your book." Jacob's eyes seemed to light up at this.

"Oh yes? And what did you think of it?"

"So far it's not bad. A bit of a hodge-podge of local folktales, isn't it?"

"Along with some personal experience, yes."

"The only one I'm not crazy about is that one about the girl who gets eaten by a wolf."

"Red Riding-Hood?"

"That's the one."

"The wolf part always gets people. They think it's impossible that she'd come out of his belly alive."

"Oh, that's not what bothers me." Jacob looked up with interest. "It's the imagery. It really sticks with me." She shuddered, "Where on earth would you get such an idea?"

"That was one of those that came from personal experience." Gretchen stared.

"That can't be true."

"No, it is. Well, the eaten alive part. Not the wolf part. In Marbaden my brother and I saw a girl eaten alive by a horse. Its stomach bulged way out, like a big sack." He stretched his arms out to illustrate.

"Wow." Gretchen was completely absorbed.

"You don't…doubt this at all?" Jacob asked curiously.

"Should I?" she asked.

"No, no of course not." He looked increasingly pleased. "Um, I think your friend could use some help…" he pointed down the bar where Peter was trying to take and fill several orders simultaneously, and not doing very well at it.

"Oh! Oh no. I'm sorry, I've got to go help…It was nice talking to you. Maybe if there's another break in the customers…or the weather." Jacob nodded in understanding, and left to go back to his table. Sonya was back talking to charming-Grimm.

"SONYA!" Gretchen shouted, "KITCHEN!" If looks could kill, Gretchen would have been dead. But as it was, she was still very much alive, and suddenly overwhelmed with thirsty and hungry customers.

"Looks like you couldn't handle it after all, eh?" she chided her cousin.

"I'm doing my best," he said indignantly.

"Let me get that." Gretchen took three tankards from her cousin and put them on the counter, where they were quickly snatched up. She took a long glance at the Grimms' table. Perhaps they're not so bad after all, she thought to herself. Jacob looked up in her direction, and Gretchen quickly turned her head, so he didn't think she'd been staring.

"Take the orders for a while, Peter. I can pull the tap."

The rest of the evening was a blur. Finally, it was 2 AM.

"LAST CALL, EVERYONE!" Peter shouted as Gretchen rang the bell. Some left, others—most others—came up front for one final drink. Gretchen looked back at the kitchen. Sonya was still glaring at her.

"Fine, Sonya. You can go back out and make eyes at the famous new guests. Go." Sonya said nothing, but quickly dropped her washcloth into the dishwater and vacated the kitchen. Half an hour later, everyone had left, and Peter got up to bolt the door.

"Kitchen's closed," Gretchen said as Jacob approached.

"I know. I just thought I'd let you know that we'll be heading up to our room now."

"Okay…Goodnight Herr Grimm."

"Please, it's Jacob."

"Alright, then. Goodnight, Jacob."

"Goodnight," he replied, and went up the stairs to join his brother. Gretchen waved at them from below. That was a little strange, she thought.

"I still can't believe we've got Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm staying in our inn," Peter said as he wiped down the counter.

"Like I said before Peter, they've got to stay somewhere."

"Yes, but here of all places. I wonder why they've come."

"God only knows. I suppose we could ask tomorrow."

"Are you working tomorrow?" Peter asked.

"No. It's my day off. I plan on getting a lot of sleep. Uncle Klaus will be back tomorrow, won't he?" Peter's father (and Gretchen's uncle), Klaus Hilmar, was the proprietor of the inn. He had gone to Berlin the day before on a monthly supply run.

"He should be."

"Good. It always gets hectic here when he's not around."

"You're telling me. Speaking of which, are you going to talk to him about Sonya?"

"Of course I am! She should have been washing dishes, not chatting up the guests, even if they were famous." Gretchen removed her apron and hung it on a hook next to the ale barrels. "I'm going upstairs. Goodnight, Peter."

"Night, Gretchen." Gretchen left the bar and headed up the stairs. She rented a room from her uncle as well as working in the bar. She slept in room number 8, down at the end of the hall. She unlocked her door and got ready for bed. She fell onto her bed, exhausted. Within a matter of moments, she was fast asleep, snuggled into the mattress with the quilt pulled up around her chin.