So sorry that this chapter was delayed. First Ike threw us off, then general life stuff got in the way, as it tends to do. There will be one more chapter, hopefully within the next week. Also, sorry for not replying to reviews yet.. I claim motherhood as my excuse.
A huge thanks to FauxMaven who made some great suggestions that really improved this chapter. Thank goodness she didn't get washed away by the hurricane!
The title of this chapter, "A Tastier Plum" is from Sir Gawaine and the Green Knight. It refers to the temptress that Gawaine meets while seeking to complete his quest, specifically in comparison to an older woman he also meets.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Bones. I'm just borrowing the characters.
--
Having never been to a Renaissance faire, Booth didn't have any real idea of what it would be like, but still, the place far exceeded his expectations. The whole of the fair was set in the woods, creating a cozy atmosphere with sun-dappled paths and shaded sitting areas. The entrance was an enormous, permanent structure designed to look like the front of a Tudor manor, with a huge portcullis set into the front. A man with long white hair crowned with autumn leaves and wearing soft green robes stood taking tickets.
"Good day, lovely Lady of the Forest," he said, bowing to Brennan. "I do so hope you enjoy your time." Then he turned to Booth. "Ah, good sir knight, welcome! We are in dire need of brave men today. You'll find plenty of adventure!"
Booth mumbled his thanks, a little embarrassed by the man's effusiveness and costume. Brennan, for her part, curtsied deeply and gave him an equally flowery greeting. Turning his attention to the open square in front of him, Booth realized that he would have to quickly get used to people in strange costumes, as the vast majority of the crowd was dressed for the occasion. Most wore outfits similar to his and Brennan's, but some wore full suits of chain mail and elaborate helmets, while others were covered almost entirely in ragged furs and horned masks. He was having trouble remembering that since he was in costume as well, he wasn't one to judge the faire-goers.
The storefronts were just as intricately detailed as the entrance. Rows of wood buildings lined the wide path, with wares displayed on the first floor, and what Booth assumed was a faux façade creating a second floor. It was all in the Tudor style, for the most part. He was impressed that, while the buildings probably weren't realistic by any means, they at least used real wood, rather than cheaper-looking materials.
"The illusion is remarkable," Brennan commented, a note of wonder in her voice. Booth turned to face her, unable to resist smiling at the look of amazement on her face.
"It looks great, doesn't it? You could almost believe you really were in some medieval village," he agreed.
"Well, technically, the faire was created to appear authentic to some time after the Middle Ages." Seeing the look he gave her, she hastily added, "Well, there is some overlap, so 'medieval village' may be accurate enough."
They stood still for a few minutes, off to the side, just taking in the view. It struck Booth as odd the number of people who dressed up. This was a whole subculture that he really hadn't been aware of. It reminded him of something else—
"Hey, Bones," he said quietly, tilting his head towards her ear. "Is this, like, you know, a sex thing?"
"A sex thing?" she asked, frowning.
"You know, like at the Ambassadora."
Brennan chuckled, causing a surge of defensiveness to rise in his gut. "No, Booth, that was definitely a sexual thing; this is something else all together. I'm sure for some people, coming to the faire is a way to find a partner for some costumed sexual intercourse, but look at all the children," she said, pointing out little girls in princess and fairy outfits, boys dressed as knights and wizards. "For the most part, I think these people just enjoy escaping from reality for a little while."
They began exploring, Booth once again offering his arm to Brennan. He couldn't really explain it—maybe it was the character he was trying to get into, or maybe it was his partner's delicious cleavage that he was trying not to openly stare at—but somehow it seemed more natural to take her hand here than in the real world. They passed merchants selling drums and harps, handmade pottery, nylon wings and fake flower wreaths, and all sorts of armor and weaponry.
As they exited a clothing shop (he had tried to convince her to buy a skimpy top that looked like nothing so much as a leather loincloth), an older man dressed in a vibrantly colored slashed doublet and extremely puffy pants bowed low before them. Booth and Brennan exchanged amused glances.
"Good day!" he greeted them. "I'm Gareth, and I'll be doing a hypnosis show in a little over a half hour." He indicated the small stage adjacent to the shop. "I'm hoping to find a few volunteers for the show."
With a shake of his head, Booth said, "Sorry, no thanks." There was no way he was going to let himself be hypnotized in front of a crowd of people.
He moved to walk away, but Brennan asked the man, "What do you need to do?"
"Just some pre-hypnosis work. My show isn't long enough to hypnotize someone for the first time, we need to leave time to have fun with our volunteers," he grinned. "I've already got two brave volunteers; we can start now and be ready in time for the show."
She turned to Booth, eyebrows raised, her smile hopeful. "Do you mind? It might be fun."
Booth stared incredulously at her for a moment before commenting, "You know, I never thought you were the type to believe in hypnosis."
Brennan shrugged. "Well, Cam and Angela have been hypnotized, and they say it was real for them. Whether this is or not, I don't know. But even if it's not, it would still be interesting."
"Well, if you insist," he said, holding his arm out toward the stage.
--
For his half hour by himself, Booth mostly occupied himself with observing the culture. The stage was along the main thoroughfare, so he sat in the last row of rough-hewn benches, his back to the stage, facing the crowd. The path was paved with a mix of bark mulch and gravel, but there were some patches of bare dirt and the foot traffic kicked up a persistent low cloud of dust. He found he was able to pick out three main types of faire-goers. There were the costumed people, who seemed to take the faire somewhat seriously, or at least really enjoyed staying in character. Then there were the people who wore regular clothes but by their wistful looks at the costumed people, wished they had dressed up. The third group, which he couldn't help being ticked off by, were the people snickering at those in costume, drinking liberal amounts of beer, and generally being scornful. Thankfully there were only a handful of those; almost everyone seemed to just be really pleased to be out at an extraordinary event, with good weather, and lots of other people to share the experience with.
When the benches started filling up, Booth swung his legs around to face front. The stage was small and backed by what appeared to be a ramshackle cottage. There was a doorway partially covered by cloth and two false windows, though the flowers in the window boxes were real. It wasn't long before the hypnotist appeared on the stage, setting three wood chairs in a row. He addressed the crowd, introducing himself in character and including a fair bit of his background. After a few jokes to warm up the audience, he brought Brennan and two other young men out from behind the curtained doorway.
The three volunteers looked completely normal to him—he had half-expected them to look dazed or somehow visibly entranced. But Brennan's eyes found him in the crowd and she gave a little wave, which he returned with a wink and a smile. Gareth the Hypnotist had his subjects sit in the chairs and explained to the crowd how he had done some backstage work with them to make the show go a little smoother. He then proceeded to put his hands on the shoulders of one of the men and spoke a few quiet, yet authoritative words to him. The young man slumped forward, his head resting on his knees. Brennan, who was sitting next in line, looked mildly alarmed, but before she had time to react, she was slumped similarly. Once the third volunteer was put under, the hypnotist turned to the audience.
"Our three courageous volunteers are now under hypnosis. The only voice they will pay attention to is mine. So, now, I call on you!" he exclaimed, arms spread wide, encompassing the crowd. "What amazing feats shall we have them perform?"
There was an instant uproar, and Booth only caught snatches of suggestions: "Make him act like a duck!" "Make her dance!" "Make him think he's a baby!" Many of the shouts were lewd suggestions aimed at Brennan, and a defensive impulse rushed through Booth.
Gareth held up his hands, quieting the audience. After a moment's thought, he whispered instructions to both Brennan and the first young man. When he snapped his fingers, they sat up, seemingly alert and normal, until the young man slid out of his seat and began crawling towards the edge of the stage. Brennan leapt to her feet and ran after him.
"No, no, honey! That's dangerous!" she scolded. She grabbed him under the armpits and attempted to lift him up, but he clearly weighed too much for her.
"My, sweetheart, you're getting heavy! What a big boy! Yes, you are!" she cooed.
That brought a good deal of laughter from the audience, including Booth. This was definitely a side of Brennan he had never seen. The hypnotist must have included some suggestions as to what type of mother she should be, because he knew from experience that this wasn't the way she talked to children. Brennan then tried to get the man into her lap so she could feed him. There was quite a lot of struggling before the man was finally seated on her lap, leaning back in her right arm (Booth had no idea how could she support the weight of a full grown man like that), while her left hand held an imaginary bottle to the man's lips.
"That's my widdle pumpkin, yes, drink up your yummy milkies! Who's the cutest baby in the whole wide world? You are! Yes, you are!"
The young man, who was making vigorous sucking motions with his mouth (which was almost as funny as Brennan's baby talk), cooed happily, staring into his 'mother's' eyes.
"Okay, time for a burpie!" Brennan announced. She heaved him to a sitting position, using one hand to support his front, while patting his back firmly. As if on cue, the young man let out an enormous belch, to the delight of the crowd. Gareth took this moment to snap his fingers once again, and immediately Brennan and the young man stiffened, both completely shocked and a little horrified to find themselves in that position. The audience roared their approval.
Next, Gareth put the two men back under, while leaving Brennan conscious. She (and everyone else) watched while the two men recreated a scene from a delivery room—the other man playing the part of the woman giving birth, while the man who had been Brennan's son got to be the frantic husband. This went on for quite some time, the crowd laughing uproariously, until the hypnotist finally put the two men out of their misery and snapped them awake.
"Let's have a big round of applause for Josh, Temperance, and Stephen!" Booth clapped enthusiastically, adding to the din around him. "Now, if you've enjoyed my show, get out your wallet and pull out a five or even a ten dollar bill. Then put your wallet into my hat!" He swept his feathered hat off his head with a flourish and jogged down the main isle to the back of the audience.
Brennan caught up with him off to the side, after Booth had put a few bills into Gareth's outstretched hat. He smirked at her, which earned him a prod in the ribs.
"So how was it?" she asked, just a little bit anxiously.
Booth slung his arm around her shoulder and gave her a wicked grin. "Well, for starters…"
--
Booth's attention was focused on a particularly dangerous looking claymore, Brennan standing at his side and discoursing on the origins and uses of the arms laid out in the weaponry stall. The burly smith, who was diligently hammering a piece of red-hot metal in the adjacent forge, gave her a sidelong glance.
"The downward sloping arms of the guard are common on Scottish swords like this one, though the arms usually ended in an enlarged quatrefoil design. Claymores were actually somewhat smaller than most other two-handed swords," she lectured. Making one of her lightning-fast changes of topic that so often confused him, she said, "It's highly doubtful that I would have used that immature language while I was under hypnosis. You must have been exaggerating."
Without waiting for his response, she turned her attention to the sword lying next to the claymore. "This katana is also a two-handed sword, of Japanese origin. Note the curving blade. Recently, the term 'katana' has been used inaccurately to mean any Japanese sword, but only single-edged curved blades should be called katanas."
"Listen, Bones, I'm not exaggerating. Obviously, you had no control over it. Let it go," he said impatiently.
Brennan was about to respond when a woman approached them. It was all Booth could do not to gawk: her shirt (if you could call it that, it looked like a bikini with sleeves) was tied tightly in a knot between her breasts, showing a firm stomach and more skin than should be allowed at a family event. On her shoulder, she carried a beribboned basket that was brimming with roses.
"Ah, good sir," she addressed Booth, "I see your lady has not a rose; has she done you some ill, or are you just of the boorish type, and have yet to purchase one for her?"
He blinked at her and almost told her off before catching on. "Oh, err, no," he said, grasping for the right words. "I've, um, yet to find a rose that matches her beauty." Smooth—if only he hadn't stuttered his way through the delivery. "Would you be the lucky peddler who has such a blossom?" Well, that was better. Glancing at Brennan, he was pleased to see her blushing.
"I'm afraid to say that your quest will be fruitless, for there is indeed nothing that can match your love's radiance." The woman curtsied to Brennan, and then continued, "However, every lady deserves a rose, wouldn't you say?"
Booth chuckled at the peddler's persistence and handed over a few dollars while Brennan selected a coral hued rose. The woman seemed pleased with Brennan's choice and winked at her—which struck Booth as particularly strange.
"The joust will be starting soon," the woman told them before she strode away. "The tourney field is over yonder!"
Following the crowd heading in the direction the peddler had indicated, Booth once again found his arm linked with Brennan's. He watched her hold her rose under her nose, the delicate petals just brushing her skin as she inhaled. It was such an innocent gesture, but somehow, it seemed inexpressibly erotic to him. This day was turning out so much better than he had thought it would be when he first woke up, and it was all due to his incredible partner. The urge to gather her into his arms rushed through him, though he manfully pushed the thought away. Instead, he gently bumped his shoulder against hers.
When she looked up at him, he leaned close, and with a smile on his lips, murmured, "I'm glad to be here with you, Bones."
