A/N: hey, sorry, major writer's block, but today i suddenly got all kinds of inspiration. So here's (what i think) my longest and greatest chapter! hope you like it--
Disclaimer: i didnt own, i dont own, and i prolly will never own. sigh---
It was early. Earlier than usual. Too early to even think about being awake. So decided the mind of the young woman slumped on the bar of the Border Tavern. The sky was hidden in the predawn darkness; candles, lanterns, and the roaring fireplace were the only sources of light.
Long light brown eyelashes fluttered shut, hiding her bright cornflower blue eyes. Sun-streaked brown hair hung to her shoulders, a splash of freckles ran over her cheeks and nose. She had a neat figure, shapely enough to draw a man's eyes but not a woman's disapproval. Hidden beneath the sleeves and skirts of her blue cotton dress the girl's arms and legs were strong from hours of defense classes as well as carrying serving trays and buckets.
"Sorry lass, sleep time is over." Blinking sleepily, Sandraline fa Toren was able to bring the smirking face of Ben into focus. Looking unnaturally cheerful for being up before dawn, the man balanced a knife hilt on his forefinger while wiping the bar down with his other hand.
Sandry shook her head with an exasperated grin. Really, the things one can pick up working in a tavern. Already in the past two years, she learned how to juggle five beer bottles, throw a dagger, play all sorts of poker games and win every hand, swear in several different languages, and hold her liquor longer than any man. Sandry winced at the last one, remembering the interesting nights she had trying to reach that goal. Ben and Kellen had taken care of her of course, with severe lectures and plenty of laughs at her expense. They seemed to be unaffected by the strange behavior of the clothes and other threads around them, though once Ben had to run, cursing, out of the room half naked while Kellen followed him, crying in her mirth and gathering up his dancing garments. It had been dishes for a week after that one, and a lot of mending.
Ben grinned and wobbled a bit, pretending to lose control of his knife. Sandry leaned back and glared at him.
"Why, again, am I up? Surely it wasn't to be skewered by the likes of you." Ben chuckled and flipped the knife, palming it and sheathing it quicker than Sandry could blink.
"Hottest day of the year darlin'," he drawled, tossing the rag into a nearby bucket and handing her a bucket. "Chores done before the sun bakes us." Sandry groaned, but took the bucket, heading to the garden out back to gather greens for the day.
When the bucket was generously full she stood, then stilled for a moment. A shiver passed through her, though the humidity closed on her like a woolen blanket. A flash of green blinked in her mind, then was gone. After a moment of puzzling over it, Sandry shrugged and went in the kitchen door.
Things were well under way, cook fires roaring, good smells of all kinds hung in the air. Sam was by the hot-oven, taking out the morning's fresh bread. Sandry waved.
"Well goo' mornin', lassie! 'magine, findin' yens up 'n out 'afore the sun." Sandry smiled at the large man and sighed dramatically.
"Trust me, I wouldn't be up and out if it weren't for that slave master, Ben."
"That's Sir slave-master to you!" Ben himself stuck his head in the swinging door. "Sam, how's the bread coming? Guests' will be down soon." Sam laughed and waved a hand at Ben.
"Jus' a mo', it's still risin'." Ben nodded and withdrew his head. Sandry took her bucket and went over to sit by the other, quieter members of the staff. Kellen, the opposite of her husband when it came to early mornings, sat on the floor with a peeling knife and a carrot in her hand. She moaned softly.
"He's so… happy." Sandry shook her head in mock-sympathy. Ever since they had taken her in, she had come to love Ben and Kellen like family. The two were so perfect for each other, and their humor seemed never ending. They were also prone to taking in misfits and making them feel at home. One such misfit was Sandry herself.
Another example sat slumped next to Kellen, snoring softly, a forgotten water bucket and scrub brush beside her. A potato was perched between her knee and cheek, forming a pillow.
"She's allowed to sleep?" Sandry whined, then picked up the scrub brush and began cleaning the greens she had just brought in. Kellen just grunted and elbowed the girl beside her.
Ollie jerked her head up, dark brown eyes opened wide. "I'm awake," she muttered, rubbing dirt from the potato off her face. Her skin, a rich chocolate, was smooth and flawless; her face was round and sensual, lips full and lashes long. Black curly hair framed her face, making her a vision for any man. A year younger than Sandry's eighteen, the Ollie served with her and was loud and vivacious… at least she when she was conscious.
Sandry grinned. "Late night with Alec?" she asked innocently. Alec was Ollie's latest male interest. An adamant believer in love and passion, Ollie went through men quicker than any girl Sandry knew, claiming each one was her one and only, then moving on before their rent was up. However Alec seemed as different as the love sick girl claimed him to be. He was an apprentice carpenter in the town just a couple of miles from the tavern, and the two have been sneaking off to see each other for the past few months. There had even been talk of marriage, though Ollie wasn't sure if she was ready.
"Don't mock me because you have the passion of a stone," she snapped. Sandry only rolled her eyes. Ollie had been trying to introduce Sandry to the men who come to the tavern, but Sandry didn't have much interest. She just didn't have time in her life for love, she didn't even know anyone she could really have a relationship with—Sandry stiffened as the green flashed in her mind again. What was that? With a little more difficulty, Sandry was able to forget about it. A snore next to her made Sandry jump. Ollie was asleep again.
The main room was filled with travelers trying to escape the heat. Bustling from table to table, Sandry stopped briefly to drink water from the ladle Kellen handed her. It had been like that all morning, the fact that it was midday made things all the worse.
Shoving her tray onto the bar, Ollie nudged Sandry. "There's a man at table three who needs service," she said, her eyes dancing with mischief. Sandry looked to where she was pointing. Table three was a corner table, slightly away from the crowd. At it sat a lanky man- or boy, she guessed, around her own age- with curly black hair and green eyes. He was bored, lazily balancing a knife on his finger just as Ben had done. Something about him seemed familiar, so familiar; she had seen someone else doing that, showing off… Suddenly the air was sucked out of Sandry's lungs. No, no, it wasn't possible, it couldn't be, she had to be imagining--- Briar?
But it was him, all grown up… so grown up and handsome, with muscled arms and tousled hair and- NO! He had been the one who had hurt her, chased her away, he… meant a lot more to her than she would admit to herself.
Ollie gave her a knowing grin. "Handsome, huh?" Sandry barely heard her, instead she began to panic. She absolutely couldn't let Briar see her, he would recognizer her, he would take her back; she would have to be a noble again! "Well?" Ollie asked impatiently. "Get to it!" She motioned wildly.
"N-no, no, no, Ollie you have to take this one for me, please!" Ollie growled in exasperation.
"I don't think so, he looks perfectly nice, and you will go- talk- to-HIM!" she exclaimed as she shoved Sandry towards the table. Finally, only a few feet away from the table, Sandry gave up and, taking the tray from Ollie, glared at her.
With dread she walked to the table. Stepping up so she was behind Briar and her face in shadow, she cleared her throat. In a small, breathy voice that could in no way be identified with her own, Sandry asked, "What'll it be, sir?" Briar turned and set down the knife, giving her a tired smile. Sandry lowered her head so that her hair hung in her face. Briar squinted at her, as if he couldn't see her clearly.
"Do I know you?" he asked. Sandry stiffened.
"No, sir, I'm quite sure you don't, sir." she replied, adding as many sirs as she could and smirking inside at his grimace. Briar's face fell and he shrugged.
"Oh. Well I guess I'll just have--." A loud crash cut through the noise, Sandry whirled her head to look at the source of the racket. Ollie kneeled nearby over a mess of dishes, apologizing and cleaning it up, but all the while looking pointedly at Sandry. Sandry knew that look- You can do better than that. Sandry sighed, fed up with her 'encouragement'.
Unfortunately, the distraction made Sandry forget her charade. A gasp behind her made Sandry closed her eyes. Damn. Slowly, she turned back to Briar.
His eyes were wide, mouth slightly opened. In fact, he bore a resemblance to the fish they were serving that night. Sandry would have appreciated the humor better had her life not been crumbling around her.
"S-Sandry?" he gasped, "What're, wha- why?" Finally, he got a full sentence out. "Is it really you?" Hmm… not the most intelligent full sentence. Sandry put on a forced smile.
"So you'll be having the fish? Good, now excuse me I have many tables to serve." And with that she turned on her heel and walked away. Behind her Briar scrambled out of his chair.
"Now whoa, wait Sandry!" He grabbed her wrist. Jerking her arm away, Sandry stopped.
"Leave me alone, Briar."
"Look, Duchess, we gotta talk." At the sound of her old nickname, Sandry whirled on him.
"Never call me that again!" she hissed. "I'm not a duchess. I don't want to talk. I think you talked enough last time I saw you, plant mage." Briar stiffened, as if he'd been slapped, and looked at the floor.
"Duch- er- Sandry, about that, I can explain-." Sandry laughed derisively.
"Oh, you can explain? Alright, why you start by explaining why you insulted and yelled at me. Then, you can explain why you drove me away. And while you're at it, GO JUMP IN A LAKE! You hurt me Briar Moss, and I DON'T think 'I'm sorry' is going to cover it!" By the time she had finished her rant, Sandry realized two things. One: she was yelling- loudly. Two: the entire room had gone completely silent and everyone was staring at them. Cheeks flaming red and tears in her eyes, Sandry turned from the gaping Briar, stared long and hard at Ollie, and, back completely straight, walked out of the room.
A/N: you like? review and let me know! o and 2 things- 1) i know that the mages arent sposed to drink but you saw the results. as she got better at holding her liquor, the magic part calmed down too. 2) i'm kind of bad with writing accents or whatever so sorry if Sam sounds odd. oh and in case you guys didnt figure it out, the green flashes were Sandry feeling Briar coming. uh... thats it i guess!