Writer's Note: As you can probably guess, this story won't have a lot of dialogue until Maddie picks up more of the language. Presumably people ignore that because it's hard to say, "I want to have your babies, Legolas!" without words. I also find it a bit like cheating for a magic spell or some kind of god to banish the language barrier. Therefore I enjoy the challenge of writing a story where the main character cannot understand anyone.
To make a realistic girl-falls-into-M.E. story: Remind the readers that the medieval ages are a very different world than our own, and that we are completely unprepared to be suddenly dropped in them.
Disclaimer: I make no money from this work. Anything recognizable from The Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R Tolkien and affiliates.
Home with the Fairies
Chapter Three: Where Many Paths and Errands Meet
The day was waning and night would be falling soon. After bathing and dressing, I'd been left on my own. I puttered around my room, then the hallway and the other rooms, and finally wandered downstairs to watch Bryce clean and prepare the bar for the crowd tonight. Now I was left in the main bar area alone, but I could see people moving about outside. I went to the window cautiously and looked out at the sea of medieval dresses and tunics, children, women and men, young and old, walking together with the children cavorting about. I realized it was people heading to a celebration; mothers clasping their children's hands, men grouped together boisterously talking, all walking in the same direction.
It must have been why the town was so quiet earlier, and why no one was in the bar. They would come back later, but for now it was a night of celebration. Of what I had no idea, but a village-wide party indeed.
Bryce came down not long after the main crowds had passed. Ysmay had left me after I was dressed, no doubt to prepare herself too. He came down in a finer tunic than I'd seen him in earlier, freshly cleaned and his beard shorn close. He still reminded me a bit of a butcher, with his imposing frame and musculature, but when he offered me his arm, I realized he was taking me to the celebration.
I couldn't help feeling a little excited and a lot nervous.
We left the bar and I noticed two things: one, my skin was paper-white compared to the darker complexion of Bryce, and two, in my new outfit I actually blended in fairly well. Still, people seemed to realize I wasn't from here and stared at me, but I stared plenty back at them. Their faces were tough and worn, creased with hard work and tanned from the sun. I marveled at them silently, and wondered whether my world wasn't missing something.
Bryce led me through the main street outside the village. I noticed the calluses on his palms, the tough fingers and the roughness of his skin. He'd worked all his life, I thought, as I examined the weathered lines across his forearm. My arm, in comparison, was a dainty, willowy thing that would probably fall off if asked to do the same kinds of chores he probably did everyday. I was white, spotted with a couple of freckles, and I bit my nails. But the skin was smooth, the fingers rounded and soft, and I was a little awed at the stark difference between us.
We got to the main square with the last stragglers, and though I couldn't see much I didn't need to. There was a fountain in the center that everyone was standing around. It was made of stone, with only a simple spout for water. Garlands, flowers, and candles were everywhere, and there were a number of market stands around the edges of the street. The smell of food wafted over to me, and I realized that the meager bread Bryce had given me before was long gone. My stomach growled at the smells, and I blushed with embarrassment. No one paid any heed though. They looked just as hungry as I was.
Before we could eat though there was a speech.
Standing on the lip of the fountain was a man in a fine grey tunic with a black undershirt, slightly balding but still with strong black hair only lined with grey. I deemed him the headman as he launched into his speech. I didn't have the faintest idea what he was talking about, and the crowd wasn't all that responsive either. I didn't know if it was some kind of political speech or perhaps a boring story. Bryce was paying serious attention, and mothers hushed their children.
When he was done, cheers erupted and the music began. The crowd dispersed among the stands, buying and bargaining goods and sucking on treats. Bryce drew me to the fountain where some children were playing and people were sitting. He indicated the stands of food and treats, and then pointed back down the road towards The Black Bird. I nodded, not quite understanding what he was saying but figuring I'd just head back on my own once I was done.
He turned then headed over to one of the nearest market stalls, picking up what seemed to be a shish kabob of meat and veggies before heading back down to the pub. It would be busy tonight I could guess.
The lights were lit inside The Black Bird as I approached, and I could already hear the rowdy voices of men and pints clinking. Someone started up a bar song and soon the deep and bearish voices of others joined in. There was a lot of laughter, much of it drunken, and I hoped I'd be able to slip by.
I got to the doorway and nervously pushed it open. At every table, on every wall, were men, along with several women in low-cut, tight outfits (low-cut by medieval standards—they were downright conservative by my own), standing about cheering and talking. Smoke filled the room from people's pipes, and the dank smell of alcohol and sweat permeated. I wrinkled my nose before consciously relaxing it. I didn't want to offend anyone, and there were already a number of eyes on me.
Deciding cutting through the masses would be a bad idea, I realized my best bet was scooting by the bar. Bryce was there, filling tankards and talking with the men. He must have seen me looking though, because as soon as we made eye contact he waved me over with a hand motion.
I wove my way through the crowd on the edges, biting my lip when a man leaned in close, liquor on his breath, and said something to me. Shaking my head at him, my hands trembling ever so slightly, I managed to push my way to the bar where Bryce leaned over and offered me a glass of some golden liquid. Politely shaking my head and smiling, he shrugged before pointing up. I felt infinitely safer just standing by him in that crowded pub and on impulse I grabbed his big calloused hand in mine and squeezed thanks before heading up.
As soon as my head hit the pillow the lights and feasting tonight flooded back to me. Despite the language barrier, one young man at a stand offered me some of the shish kabobs he was selling, but when I tried to say I didn't have any money, he waved his hand at me and gave it to me anyway. Thanking him and even bobbing a curtsy as I had seen other women doing (I didn't mangle it too badly either, which was a pleasant surprise since I'd never done it before), I thankfully ate. The food was delicious, made over an open fire that left a smoky flavor I liked. I didn't think I'd ever had such sweet, true meat and flavored vegetables. Some cold, clear water from the fountain as the children were doing sated my thirst, and though I enjoyed the music and merriment, I quickly tired.
I had taken a look around the real town here, but it was hard to see much more than the looming shape of the buildings. With only scattered lighted torches to see by, it was hard to make much detail out. I had wandered around after eating for a bit, and was even asked to dance (I think) by two young men, but I was ready to turn in by that point and declined as best I could before heading back.
My day had been very long, and I was glad to have a bed to sleep on. I was humming the dancing tune, thinking of the happy faces, the laughing, screaming children, but even so thoughts of home never strayed. It made me think of block parties, of birthday parties, of buying food from street vendors at home. It reminded me of pleasant things and sad things, and I drifted off, lulled to sleep by the song the people had danced to, and images of my friends from home dancing to it.
Ysmay came to wake me, and the first thing I saw was her angrily indicating my clothing. It took me a couple long moments to realize I had fallen asleep in the dress and now it was wrinkled. I tried to smooth it out, but Ysmay was inconsolable. Eventually she gave up smoothing it out herself, and after redoing my braid, she took me downstairs.
Bryce was cleaning up the bar, and from the looks of it, he'd be at it all day. Chairs and even a table were overturned, tankards and pints were left everywhere, and the floor needed a good moping. It smelled heavily of liquor and smoke despite the open door to help air it out. I was amazed I'd slept through all the ruckus of the people down here.
I didn't know what time it was until Ysmay opened the door to the outside and the morning sun half-blinded me. I stumbled out and she clicked her tongue before almost dragging me down the street towards town.
They'd let me sleep in, I realized uncomfortably. Ysmay was dressed nicely, but her hands were unwashed and there was dirt under her fingernails. I remembered then that in the medieval ages everything had to be done by hand. She'd probably been up since dawn. I sped up to walk with her feeling ashamed. I had to find some way to repay her and Bryce's kindness.
We entered the town and I took another look around, this time in the daylight. The streets were still a mess from the festival, but it was quaint and nice overall. All the buildings were wooden, many with thatched roofs. Only a handful were more than a story tall, and beyond the main square they got shorter and dingier as far as I could tell.
This time more of the villagers seemed to know an outsider was here, and stood in their doorways and on the streets to stare. Many at the market stands turned as we walked, and I could feel their eyes roving over me. I felt irrationally self-conscious of the way I walked and held myself, like it wasn't proper or normal. I felt…different from them. An outsider. Even if it was true, it wasn't a good feeling to be singled out like that.
Ysmay led me around the fountain and down a side street. The buildings here looked more official and important, and then I realized they were also the only ones decorated. Garlands of flowers hung from the windows and they had curtains too. This had to be the wealthy section of town, and I was proven right at the house we stepped up to.
Ysmay fussed over my dress a little more, pushing my hands away when I tried to help. When she was satisfied she knocked on the door. It opened to reveal the headman who gave the speech last night. He didn't look surprised to see us, but I was surprised to see him. My first thought was that if anyone knew about the world outside this enclave then it had to be a guy like headman. This could be my ticket home!
I smiled extra wide before noticing that Ysmay curtsied to him, and I quickly dropped one too. He nodded before letting us inside.
His house was two stories tall, with a kitchen and a parlor room ("living room" brought up images of television sets, and that couldn't have been more wrong) on the ground floor. I only got a glimpse of the kitchen where a woman was working before we were herded into the parlor. Ysmay and I took seats on the stiff couch while he sat on a matching chair. The room, despite his obvious wealth, was markedly empty of decoration. He might be rich in comparison to the townspeople, but even I could tell that his wealth wasn't all that encompassing.
Ysmay and the headman began to speak, and I soaked in the room and him. He was just as I remembered him from last night, though I could see his potbelly more now and the sweatiness of him in general. He also had a sly look about the eye that made me a little nervous, so I sat silently and tried to be polite without doing anything, keeping my hands in my lap, my ankles crossed, just like all those women in period pieces I'd seen. I really hoped he would be able to help me. I didn't know how long I could go on pretending to live this way.
My attention wandered though, and when Ysmay said my name it took me a prolonged moment before I realized she had indicated for me to say something.
"Um… hello?"
My words came out like a question, and I quickly hid a wince, but the headman gave me a smile. I was still made distinctly uncomfortable by his presence, but I tried to smile naturally, wanting to be in the good graces of possibly the only person in town who could help me get home.
"Do you understand English? Hello?"
He shifted a little in his seat, and I couldn't help noticing the sweat stains under the arms of his coarse tunic that were never quite washed out. He didn't answer me though, just gave me another smile, this one a little weaker than the first. I could already feel the pit in my stomach, but I denied it a little longer.
"Coca Cola? Starbucks? …America?"
The pit became of lump of coal, and I had to physically resist slouching back into the seat, feeling the telltale prickling of oncoming tears behind my eyes. Great, now I was going to cry just because one important looking person who might be able to do something about this situation is absolutely useless. What was I, six?
I shut my eyes tightly, firmly telling myself that getting emotional was stupid, and reopened them to see him sparing Ysmay an annoyed look. Then he directed a question at me, giving me a rather earnest, if somewhat oily smile.
I didn't understand at all what he was asking me, and I turned to Ysmay for a charade-translation. She, however, looked incredibly displeased and was beadily eyeing the headman who was still looking at me. I was about to smile awkwardly at him when Ysmay cut in and they started to argue.
I got the distinct impression that Ysmay didn't like him and didn't approve of something about him. Or maybe that was my own dislike talking, I couldn't be sure. She was perfectly humble in manner, but there was a bite there that I picked up on. Whatever he said hadn't made her happy, but I didn't feel particularly bad that she was clearly chewing him out for it. I couldn't help the small amount of childish resentment that he'd gotten my hopes up for nothing.
Their conversation continued on in that vein. He continued to repeat my name and pointed at me several times, his voice tightening. I could tell they were arguing, but I didn't have the faintest idea what about, not to mention I was starting to get annoyed at being treated like I wasn't there.
The conversation came to a rather abrupt, if anti-climatic end. We weren't thrown out, though it probably would have gotten to that point if Ysmay had kept it up. Instead she unceremoniously stood and swept out of the room. I hesitated as I followed her, unsure if I should drop another curtsy, but the headman was still glaring at her retreating back, so I hurried to catch up to her.
Ysmay took up a brisk walk as we left the house and headed back for the main road. I trailed after her, having no idea what to do or say. She was in a foul mood, so I opted to try to be as invisible as possible until it blew over.
Upon returning to The Black Bird, Ysmay angrily starting talking to Bryce, her voice rising in volume. I wished I knew what she was saying, hating my ignorance of the language. Bryce's thicker voice surged like a wave as he cut Ysmay and my thoughts off abruptly and softened again. Ysmay didn't seem entirely recovered from her tirade, but it looked like Bryce had managed to quell some of the tide.
I took a seat as they spoke a little longer, Ysmay a little calmer this time, and I couldn't help my mind revisiting that meeting with the headman. It had been about me, of course, I was the stranger here. Maybe they thought there was someone nearby who could speak my language? Or it could just be something boring like living arrangements too.
What if perhaps they were trying to figure out if I came from a neighboring village? That sounded fairly reasonable. That headman, for all his smarmy looks, didn't look like he knew anything at all about the world that I came from. I felt strangely assured of this, though I didn't know why.
He has no idea there's a modern world out there.
That sounded bad even in my head. Again, the question always came back to how anyone could be that cut-off? Even the remotest parts of the world had seen technology, had the modern world seeping into them little by little. A whole people can't just exist in utter seclusion—it just didn't seem possible.
I began to wonder, because the train of thought inevitably went there, what if… what if I never went home?
Could I live in a place like this? Without plumbing (the outhouse was filthy), electricity, microwaveable food, the luxuries I was used to? And what would I do?
I turned that one over and over in my mind. I hadn't even considered what I would do now that I was at a town like this. I hadn't been able to think past food, shelter, and civilization. But now what? What good would a college degree do me here? Should I stay here and see if they can find me help or find someone else to go to?
And then I had an idea of what Ysmay and the headman had been talking about. If I stayed, I had to contribute to the community. But it was obvious to Ysmay and Bryce that I couldn't communicate with them, and my culture was significantly different than theirs. I'd never done hard labor before as evidenced by my un-callused hands, and I didn't have any skills that might be useful. I could analyze poetry, argue modern politics, and do calculus (if I could remember it), but I didn't have any practical skills useful in an ancient culture. But would they send me away? Leave me on my own in this practically new world?
Bryce came around the counter and tapped me on the shoulder. I glanced up, and took in his weathered face, the kind eyes sunken in and a little bloodshot. I knew that I it would be a risk to leave, but it would equally difficult to stay. They didn't have much, but they'd still shared it.
Bryce didn't let me think longer on it though. He pulled a canvas sack up in his hand and gave it to me. It was a rough material, but tough, and with something inside it. A gift?
I almost wanted to hand it back, knowing that their generosity was boundless and I had nothing to give them back. He motioned with his hands though, and I pulled the cord holding it together and opened the sack.
Inside were my clothes, folded and washed, my sneakers making it rather bulky looking, along with my keys, phone, money, and pocket mirror. The mirror was actually wrapped in my freshly washed t-shirt like it might break. Seeing this, I knew they were telling me I had to go (and that they thought my cheap pocket mirror was worth something), and I denied the feelings of abandonment that immediately hit me. I couldn't live off them in good conscience, and they'd already given me so much. It wasn't like I knew them either. They'd just been ridiculously helpful to a completely lost and bewildered girl who'd found them by accident. I'd only come here yesterday after all.
My eyes were starting to water, and I swallowed thickly to hold it back.
The headman had probably encouraged this, I thought glumly, and I couldn't be mad at him because I couldn't blame him. I needed to figure this stuff out, where I was, how I'd gotten here, and how I could get home, and that couldn't be done in a small town like this.
I realized I was staring at my things, and I put the bag down before rising up and enveloping Bryce in my arms. He was too tall and too wide for a proper hug from me, but I hugged him with all my might, thanking him in the only way I could truly show it.
I pulled back and pulled out my keys from the bag. They were silver and shiny, no doubt of a finer make and metal than what they had here. I remembered Ysmay staring at the mirror in longing, but I knew I couldn't part with that just yet—it might indeed be worth something if they had no real mirrors. So I pulled two keys off the ring, one for my parent's backdoor, one for my apartment, and handed one to each. Keys were replaceable. Human kindness was not.
When Ysmay tried to give the key back to me I folded her hand around it and hugged her too. Bryce put his in the pocket of his apron, and I thanked them in English and bobbed a downright beautiful curtsy despite my messed up emotional state.
I went to the door, but Bryce pulled me back inside and held up one finger. I assumed he meant wait, but he led me farther inside and sat me at a table, pulling out a bowl from a cupboard and ladling some soup in. Embarrassed, I realized I wasn't leaving quite yet. I kept my nose in my soup as Ysmay laughed at me, though not in a hurtful way even if it was a little rough around the edges. She still fingered the key in her hand admiringly. It was small and shiny, rigged and molded in a way I knew they didn't have here. Hopefully these two wouldn't forget me.
I was fed warm soup and led upstairs where Ysmay stowed my dress and petticoat and made me turn in for bed. I pulled on my t-shirt, hoping the smell of my house, my detergent, and my world would never leave it, and knowing it already had.
Ysmay woke me at dawn and helped me to dress. I insisted on wearing my socks and sneakers, and Ysmay fought me at first before relenting. It certainly made the bag easier to hold, since the suede shoes were much more flexible and lighter.
I washed up in a small pan of water, just splashing it on my face and a bit into my hair to help it stay flat. I had no way to brush my teeth, not even a spare cloth, so I made due with my fingers and decided I'd just have to live with it. I already had better dental hygiene than anyone else I'd met here.
Downstairs, Bryce was already up and cooking. The smell wafting from the makeshift kitchen behind the bar was delicious, but it was too early for my stomach to be hungry. If I had to guess it looked around five or six in the morning. The sky outside was still grey and foggy; the windows looking out on the courtyard were wet with dew. Still, I wasn't going to turn down the only breakfast I was being offered. And who knew when I'd get another proper meal?
Bryce called out something and Ysmay responded before pushing me down into a seat. My bag was taken and put down by the door. Bryce then appeared with plates laden with food. This was clearly a feast in celebration of my leaving, and I smiled so hard at the two of them I thought my face might crack.
There was dark bread laid out and some kind of soup to dip it in. Bryce put out another dish that had some kind of meat on it. I assumed it was the medieval version of sausage. There was a block of cheese laid out too, which Ysmay began to cut a chunk off for us each. Then the drinks were poured.
The day before I had been quite surprised to find that an auburn-colored drink was the drink of choice. I had sniffed it as discreetly as possible and took a small sip, and confirmed that it was indeed some kind of alcohol. I imagined it was ale because that seemed like the drink of the medieval ages (at least in the movies), but I didn't actually know. I guess alcohol before noon was acceptable—I wasn't even going to consider an age limit.
Today it was the same drink, and I was still a little uneasy as I looked at the dark, frothy liquid, but I figured water probably wasn't always the safest to drink, and it did keep you warm in the morning chill.
It seemed the typical breakfast was bread dipped in the ale. This morning was a special occasion though. The soup was a little watery, the taste a little dull, but the meat was smoky, though tougher than I expected, and I couldn't pinpoint what kind. The cheese had a sharp taste, not entirely pleasant, and the ale was very strong, so I only took a handful of sips. Ysmay and Bryce talked between themselves and I politely listened with half an ear as I munched slowly. I think they may have noticed my unease with the food. I felt a little guilty at my pickiness, and so tried to eat more.
When we were done and Ysmay had cleared the plates away, Bryce produced a canteen, shaking it to show it was full, and a couple small packages. These packages, I discovered, had food in them. There was some cheese, a little bread, and two strips of dried meat. Ysmay came out of the kitchen then and showed me half a dozen apples, which she stowed in the canvas bag. The other rations were added in too, and the bag bulged oddly to accommodate.
I stood up awkwardly, not sure how to go about the goodbyes. I'd already given them the keys the day before, so I decided it would just be hugs and words. I approached Bryce first, and this time he was more prepared for the hug. He put his own lumbering arms around me, and I squeezed him as tight as I could before letting go.
"Thank you, Bryce. I don't know what I would have done without you and your generosity. Thank you."
He seemed to understand my meaning, for he nodded and told me something in his own language, which I hoped reciprocated my words.
With Ysmay, it was like hugging a mother. She might look and act like a hard woman, but she was soft to hold, and I could feel my eyes leaking as I clutched her a little longer. I wiped my eyes as we released each other, and told her what I had told Bryce.
I resolutely shoved any thought of my own mother and father away as I left The Black Bird with the canvas bag slung over my shoulder. I glanced back at them several times as I walked down the road heading south, and I told myself it was going to be alright.
The bag was deadweight on my shoulders, and I'd been shifting it restlessly to help my aching back. I was holding on to it by the leather cord that held it together, and it was burning my palms. I almost wanted to eat the food inside it just to lighten it, but I knew better than to use my rations all at once.
The road was dusty and bleak. I'd left the grasslands far behind me in my walk. Bryce had told me the night before, through charades, that it was a four-day walk. I was terrified inside as soon as The Black Bird disappeared behind me. I was going to cross open country I didn't know, without a map of any kind, all by myself. Going God knows where too, since the only thing I was searching for was any sign of civilization. I stifled my fear and tried to hum to the rhythm of my steps to keep my mind off it.
As I walked that day I saw only a handful of people. I wondered if Fornost was the main town around here, and there were smaller connected ones dotted about. And then I had to wonder again how big this area was. How long would it take me to reach the edge of their land and back into civilization?
All of the people I passed were heading towards the town, and I didn't make eye contact with them. They stared though, and probably because of my shoes. I was afraid they might stop me or try to steal my things, so I kept walking and prayed no one would try anything.
The day was warm as I sat down for lunch. I ate an apple and cleaned off half the loaf of bread. I was sitting on the side of the road, covered in a layer of dust. The dirt was like a haze in this heat, and the sun beating down didn't help. The road was quite large, easily wide enough for a wagon. It must be a main thoroughfare, and I could only hope Bryce was sending me towards a more populated place. I needed to find someone who might be able to help me.
I had tried to ask him and Ysmay what the place was called, but that was a difficult charade to do. They had probably said it, but in sentences where I couldn't tell any words apart so anything could have been it.
I wiped the sweat from my brow with my sleeve as I thought about it, lamenting the thick material of the ankle-long dress. I pushed the sleeves up to my elbows and rocked to my feet before shouldering the canvas bag again. Four days on the road…
That night was my hardest yet. I managed to find a spot farther from the road, near one of the few trees scattered about. I didn't want to be too close, not wanting to get robbed by some passerby seeing an easy target, but I also didn't want to lose sight of the road.
I'd laid down, tucked my canvas bag under my head and made sure the clothes were near the top so it wasn't too hard, and stared out onto the road. When I closed my eyes, all I could see was my small apartment, my bedroom, the blanket strewn over the couch, my mother fussing over my kitchen when she came by, my father grumbling over my TV, and tears began to leak out of my shut eyes.
I wanted to go home. I wanted to hug my mom and never let go, sit on my father's lap like I did when I was six. I wanted to smell gasoline and fast food and feel my heart jumping as the neighbors blared their music Saturday night. I wanted to eat potato chips and chocolate, greasy Chinese dumplings and pancakes. I didn't want to walk everywhere until my feet were bleeding, I wanted to shower not bathe; I wanted a toilet. I wanted my world back, not the crappy, disgusting, filthy, horrible, wretched place that I was miserable in.
I curled into myself, head on the dirt, hair mussed up, my dress bunched up by my knees, arms on my face, and sobbed. It was the kind of ugly crying that gets choked in your throat and makes you hiccup and snort, where your nose is running and you have to keep sniffing or it'll get worse, wiping your sleeve to dry your face and getting tears and snot on it like you're five, and I just couldn't stop. I didn't want to be here anymore. I didn't belong here and I'd never wanted to come in the first place. All I wanted to do was go home.
I cried good and long until finally my eyes dried. I was a mess, laying in the fetal position, exhausted completely by my total collapse of any calm I'd had. I drifted off there, dreaming about my home, my food, and my family.
That morning was terrible, as expected. My mouth tasted like cardboard and dust, my eyes were crusty and red, my sleeves had dried mucus on them, the dress itself was covered in dirt and horribly crinkled. I stiffly unrolled from my position and tried to pat down my hair and clothes, feeling just as bad as yesterday but not quite so prone to crying.
I'd had to relieve myself behind a tree, and the almost unbearable act started the waterworks again. This time I shoved away the idea of sinks and toilets and plumbing and instead did my best to wipe away the last couple of tears as I started walking.
On the morning of the third day of travel, the dark clump to the west that I had spotted on the horizon the day before was finally coming into view. It was a forest, the kind that was only found in wildlife preservations in my time: thick, wild, alive. I could only see the fringe of it, being that it was so far from the road, but I wondered if I might have to cross through a forest at some point on my journey.
The thought made me shudder. As beautiful as I thought forests were, they were also the places where bandits haunted (according to the stories) and more animals lived. At least out on the open fields like this I could see something coming for miles.
On the fourth day, hills began to form to the east, and the plains started to gently roll like long, low waves with trees bobbing on top. People began to populate the road too, and I started to become a little more cheery as laughing folk led donkey- and oxen-drawn wagons down the road. I changed my shoes after the first wagon came by, aware that I would draw a lot of attention with them on. Luckily, my sack was lighter since I'd been steadily eating the food, so the sneakers were easy to fit in.
The people themselves all dressed in the same medieval attire as Bryce and Ysmay. I wondered if they were sending me deeper into their lands. Maybe there was a central government I was moving towards? Someone who dealt with the authorities of Canada or America or wherever I was? I found it hard to believe I could be overseas, since I didn't feel like I could have been unconscious that long. Still, the landscape here looked like North America or maybe Europe and those places were very populated. Surely someone could help me.
Considering my situation helped to pass the time, but I was disappointed though as I sat down to rest that night. I hadn't reached the town. Bryce had said four days. Maybe I just walked slow or something.
I was in dire need of bath. The dirt from the trip was caked all over me. My hair was a complete mess. It had slipped out of its braid after the first night, and the leather thong wasn't like a regular ponytail. It wasn't elastic, but a string that I had to knot. I couldn't seem to make it tie fast so my hair hung down in a scraggly mess that constantly got in my face and made my neck hot. I attempted to curl it around my fingers and make a bun that could hold itself up, but it was starting to get frizzy with all this heat. I didn't want to waste my precious water, but on the fourth day I did sacrifice a bit to keep my hair down from the mess it was becoming and wiping my face, lamenting the whole time the lack of shampoo and conditioner here.
I dug through my bag and produced one apple, now going a little brown in one spot, and the meat. I hadn't really considered the meat until the second day when I pulled them out. They were dried meat, and I honestly felt like an idiot when I wasn't sure if they were raw or not. Was it like beef jerky? Did I just eat it like this? Or did I have to cook it?
In the end, I stuffed it back in. Maybe in town I could offer it for money since no one had given me any coins or currency of any kind.
It only took another day to reach the town. I was very happy to see the dark spot on the horizon grow throughout the day until about mid-afternoon where I finally came upon it.
There was a great wall made of stone and wood that was nearly twice my height and thick as a tree trunk. The huge doors were open wide, and people were almost constantly moving in and out. Some carried vegetables, others wood stacks, all kinds of goods really, and I watched them for a moment before heading in myself.
The town was a bustling, sprawling, pigsty.
This is the medieval ages: the smell of drunkards, feces and urine, of horses and mules and other animals all mixed together. It was the butcher hanging his still-bleeding wares in the street raw, the woman gossiping out of windows to each other and air-drying their laundry over the lane, men carrying swords at their hips and eyeing everyone they saw, and open sewers down the sides of the street. It was the tankards in the pub window and the pints in the other pub two doors down. It was in the retched filth lying in the gutters and alleys, the complete ignorance of hygiene or respect for other life, and the men passed out next to barrels of ale.
It was horrible and shocking. I'd never been somewhere so unclean, so completely un-modern. How could this be possible? War-torn Africa, remote islands, rural villages, even they couldn't be this bad. Where was the Peace Corps? World Health Organization? What country would allow any citizen, even ones who were chose to live a more primitive life, live in this kind of muck? I was absolutely gob-smacked by the disgusting standards of living.
I must have gotten really lucky to hit a small village first and during a festival when things were cleaned up to make it nice. But here, this was probably every day life considering how people went along just ignoring the rotting garbage and the human waste.
I valiantly stopped myself from plugging my nose; aware that no one else seemed to notice the stench and that I would probably draw some strange looks if I did. There were a lot of people everywhere, and it was clearly market day from the number of women carrying bundles through the gate. I had to wonder what day of the week it was, but then realized it didn't really matter.
This town was considerably bigger than Bryce's. Most of the buildings were snug up against each other and two stories tall. Many of them were as nice as the headman's house had been, with glass panels in the windows in a crosshatch pattern, fancy doorknobs, and pretty signs swinging from hinges above them.
There were several men prowling the street with swords at their hips that made my hands sweat. One of them eyed me unkindly, and I realized I must look a little strange standing there all by myself looking as scraggly as I did.
I jerked into action and started walking, but it hardly took me ten steps before I realized I didn't even know where to begin. Now that I was here, in a busy town I didn't even know the name of, I realized that I was completely out of my depth.
I had no money for a hotel room, if they even used coin money here or whether everyone just bartered. I knew no one here and couldn't hope to communicate with anyone. How would I survive? What had Bryce and Ysmay been thinking? It was total luck I'd even met them in the first place, but this was a proper town, not an obscure village. People here were used to strangers from other places so I hardly stuck out.
Standing here on the street with everything I owned over my shoulder, I was acutely aware that I had no plan and nowhere to go. Luck. That was all I had, and it was the flimsiest thing I could rely on. My throat started to choke up and I began to feel panic building up inside me.
I started to walk, turning the corner at the intersection and heading down a random street, not paying any attention to where I was going. There were still swarming crowds here, so I walked faster as a prickling started behind my eyes, turning a couple more corners until I was hopelessly lost.
I could feel the pressure welling up and no doubt I was red in the face from holding it back. The area I was in was quiet, and I looked around quickly to make sure I wasn't in some shady back alley. It looked to be a residential area, upper class residential in fact, considering everyone had shutters and fine carved fringe on the edge of their wooden houses. I sat down on a low wall and dropped my canvas bag at my feet. I put my head in my hands and started to cry.
It would be a lie to say I didn't secretly hope someone would notice the poor soul sitting on a garden wall crying all by herself. No one came though, and I finally recovered enough to wipe my nose and dry my eyes with my sleeve—which would normally be gross if my clothes weren't already ruined after the trip. I was probably quite a sight to behold.
I rubbed my face as I tried to think now that I'd regained some of my composure. I had the meat that I didn't know how to eat. Should I dare to sell it? Except, I couldn't understand what anyone said, so how did I expect to barter?
I supposed I could try to see if an innkeeper would accept the meat for a night's stay. The pocket mirror was also a good try, though I'd probably get ripped off for it.
Frustrated, I put my head in my hands and tried to will away the tears again. All I seemed to do was cry here, and I couldn't seem to stop myself when the tears started to threaten again.
I heard some shuffling not far from me, and I lifted my head, sniffling to keep the tears at bay.
Down the road from me were two men. Dressed in dark outfits that were similar to Bryce's, though of a finer cut and some kind of trimming as far as I could tell, they stood at the mouth of the street looking at me. Something about them made me a little nervous, but they didn't look disheveled enough to be drunk.
One of them took a couple steps forward as I watched. He had dark curly hair in a low ponytail, and a long-sleeved tunic, light brown with black sleeves. His clothing was quite fine, and I supposed he might be handsome, with a wide mouth and rosy cheeks. His friend behind him followed him out as they walked towards me.
I probably should have backed up, or at least stood, but I didn't move and they came to stand right before me. The first spoke to me gently, his voice mellow and soft. I had the distinct impression of a cat being persuaded to come out from under the bed. I shook my head to indicate a lack of understanding. He tried again, frowning now as I still shook my head.
"I don't speak your language. I can't understand a thing."
He seemed to realize then why I was shaking my head, and he smiled before offering me his hand. His friend was smiling too, his teeth yellow. Hesitantly I took it, and he actually bowed to kiss it before helping me up.
I couldn't help but blush at their chivalry, especially considering my hideous state, but when his friend tried to take my bag I quickly picked it up. The first only laughed. I felt a little miffed by it, but he lightly admonished his friend and smiled at me again.
He gestured for me to follow him. Unsure of where I was going, I pulled the bag to my chest and didn't move. I wasn't stupid enough to follow two strangers in some random town.
Realizing I wasn't following, he smiled and beckoned again. I tried to look uneasy and shifted my feet, and he seemed to get it. He approached me slowly again. "Bromley," he pointed at himself.
Warily, I considered making up a new name, but discarded it as the name really didn't matter here—it's not like they could look me up, they didn't even have phonebooks let alone anything more advanced. He smiled then encouragingly at me, his face open. He seemed to genuinely want to help, and I couldn't help letting my own small smile cross my face. Maybe I had more luck than I thought. "Maddie."
"Maddie." He smiled as he rolled it on his tongue.
He opened his arms wide around himself, indicating the entire town I assumed, and said "Bree."
"Bromley. Bree." He pointed again to himself and then to the whole town, and I realized he was saying he was from Bree. And that Bree was the name of the town.
No one had ever heard of my home here. At least I didn't think so. But it couldn't hurt to try. "Maddie. America." I repeated his word order and motions at him in the hopes he might understand.
"Ameri…ca?" He said it like he was feeling out the word, and it was instantly clear he'd never heard of it.
Fumbling to make some sense of myself, I tried to explain. If they didn't know about America the country, then maybe it might be better if he thought it was village or something. Now what was the word the shepherd boy had said again? "Furnace?"
No, that wasn't right. Bromley was looking at me funny, and I knew he didn't recognize it. "Furmost. Formest."
I was struggling to find the right pronunciation for town when he suddenly said, "Fornost!"
I immediately smiled and nodded. "America. Fornost. Bree. Fornost."
I was quite proud until he looked confused. "Fornost. Bree."
"Huh?" I managed elegantly. This was simple, at least to me. Bree was a town. America was a town (well, country, but it didn't really matter right now). I repeated it and he was shaking his head even before I'd finished.
My confusion was palpable. Bromley tried unsuccessfully to make me understand whatever it was, but I didn't get it at all. Through all the hand motions and talking, Bromley's un-introduced friend suddenly squatted on the ground. Using a small rock, he made a circle and said "Fornost." Then he drew a smaller circle some ways below it and said "Bree."
Blinking, I stared at the miniature diagram for all of ten seconds before suddenly realizing that "Fornost" was the name of Bryce's town, not the word for town. Which is why I wasn't making any sense.
Crouching down I drew a line with an arrow tip pointing towards Bree from Fornost and said, "Maddie."
Bromley smiled at me and offered me his hand again. I took it, and he helped me up. He then turned to his friend and said, "Hadley," while pointing at him. I smiled for him and dropped a curtsy to them both. I wasn't sure if that was right or not, but they didn't say anything so I assumed I was in the clear.
Bromley said something and beckoned again, and this time I followed him through the winding paths back into the open market.
This was a different part of Bree than I'd seen, and it was quite loud. I stuck close to Bromley and Hadley as they weaved through the streets. I couldn't help but stare at the wares though. There were bolts of cloth in all kinds of colors; some stands had a variety of weapons, from bows and arrows to swords and daggers. There were food stands and jewelry booths, someone offering cups of beer—probably a homemade brew—there were dishes and silverware, candles and perfumes, and all manner of things in between. Everyone was haggling at their top of their voices, and some people were bartering even as I spotted silver coins and jangling money pouches.
I noticed as I walked that there were a handful of curly-haired children in the crowd running through people's legs and calling for attention from the vendors, even trading with them. One of them skipped by me, and I actually stopped walking when I realized he looked like a full-grown man, though he probably only stood just above my hip. These "children", as I took a good look around and was able to catch sight of several more in a group, were actually proper adults, but had some kind of dwarfism that made them incredibly short, though they looked proportional enough, if a little fat.
I was very surprised and probably would have stood there gawking if Bromley hadn't grabbed my hand and steered me out of the crowd. The sun was setting before us as we walked down this less-crowded street, though they were plenty of people. Here seemed to be more travelers though, and more merchants but it wasn't quite as hectic. I saw a couple more of these little people, and I politely tried not to stare. Bromley hadn't let go of my hand, though I tried to discreetly wiggle it free. While I appreciated his kindness it did make me uncomfortable.
I forgot about it though when he guided me up to a doorway and inside. Above the door swung a creaky sign with a white rearing horse on it.