Chapter 11: Mistletoe
One hour later, Maeve and the monk were enjoying the best meal either party had had in a very long time. After sating the worst of their hunger, the monk decided it was time to start a conversation.
"So," he began between bites, "are you ever going to tell me where you got that satchel?"
Maeve glared at him, but only half-heartedly. Despite her best efforts, she found herself actually becoming friends with the young man.
"Well?" he asked again. "Whose is it?"
"My savior," Maeve answered simply, shrugging like it was no big deal. "He saved my life, and gave me the satchel of medicine."
"Oh that's so romantic!" he exclaimed in a higher voice. Maeve stared at him in disbelief, and he cleared his throat, blushing. "I mean, isn't that what happens in the stories? A brave knight rescues the fair maiden, leaving her with only a token to remember him by, until they meet again."
Maeve almost choked on her food as she fought the urge to laugh. Me? A druid? With the Dragon King? He's out of his mind. No way would I be interested in that heartless man. But aloud she said, "You've been reading too many fairy tales."
"Sorry," the young man apologized sheepishly. "I guess I'm a bit of a romantic. I still believe in true love. That's why I'm here actually."
Maeve glared at him. "I hope you're not implying-"
"NO!" he squeaked, before composing himself. "No, no. I apologize for giving you that idea. I merely meant that, well…" he trailed off. "A few years ago, my father arranged for me to marry. I was disappointed, of course. I've always wanted to marry for love. But he was my father, so I said nothing. Then I heard rumors about his- her cruelty." he corrected himself, shuddering. "I knew then that I had to run away. So when my father sent me off for the wedding, I escaped. I hid in a monastery for a few days before stealing these clothes and coming here."
"So you're not a monk. I thought not."
"No, sorry for deceiving you."
Maeve shrugged. She had her own secrets. She couldn't blame the boy for having his own. However…
"You never did tell me your name," she pointed out. The false monk froze, surprised by the question. Maeve thought his reaction was rather suspicious, but she was stopped from further questioning by a disturbance outside.
Both Maeve and the young man looked towards the entrance of the tavern, from which they could hear the sounds of a woman wailing. Before Maeve even had time to consider what could be happening, her dinner partner had thrown payment for the meal in coins on the table and was rushing out the door. Maeve quickly followed.
The comrades quickly found themselves in a throng of villagers, who were all crowded around a young woman. She was kneeling next to something covered in a blanket, and she was sobbing.
"What happened?" Maeve asked gently.
A village woman nearby answered her. "Oh, it's so sad. Her father just died, and she has no money to pay for his funeral."
Before Maeve could say anything, her companion stepped forward. He knelt by the young woman's side, his face almost as sad as her own.
"I'm so sorry for your loss," he spoke quietly. "I can't make it hurt any less, but I can at least pay for his burial."
"You will?" the girl asked, hope shining through her tears. "Oh thank you, thank you sir!" she flung herself into his arms and sobbed.
He turned to Maeve. "I'm sorry to cut our farewells so short. It was a pleasure meeting you." With a small wave, he stood and helped the girl to her feet before inquiring where he could borrow a cart for the body.
A while later, the young man and the mourner were walking solemnly behind as a farmer pulled the cart with her father's body on it. When they reached the cemetery, the false monk stepped forward to assist the farmer in unloading the body. However, when he pulled the sheet aside, he gasped in horror at what lay underneath.
Instead of a freshly dead corpse, the blanket fell away to reveal bleached white bones.
"Miss," he asked shakily as the farmer retreated in fear, "how long has your father been dead?"
"About three hundred years," she answered with a smile.
"Oh, I see – wait, what?" The false monk stared at the mourner in shock as her lovely face transformed into a gaunt skeleton. Her dark hair turned white as ice, and her brown eyes turned red. The farmer ran away screaming, and the creature let out a piercing scream.
A banshee! The young man thought, horrified, as he covered his ears. He tried to run after the farmer, but found that he was frozen in place. He couldn't move a muscle, no matter how hard he tried. The banshee's lips pulled back in a terrifying grin, revealing two rows of long, pointed fangs.
The false monk let out a very feminine-sounding scream as the banshee leapt at him. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the inevitable pain of his flesh being torn apart. A few moments passed, and his screams died away as he felt… nothing.
He opened his eyes in surprise, looking around cautiously for the banshee. He found it, lying on the ground a few feet away with a branch of mistletoe imbedded in its chest. Next to the banshee stood the Druid who had saved him.
"It's you!" The monk cried out, leaping to his feet. "You saved me again. Thank you!" He looked at the banshee, whose corpse withered away into dust before his eyes, leaving only the cause of death behind. "Mistletoe?"
"Yes." The druid nodded, retrieving the sharpened branch from the ground. "Not many people know this, but mistletoe is actually pretty effective against minor demons and monsters."
"A banshee is a minor demon? Are you kidding me? That thing was terrifying!" The man shuddered, then looked around to see if the farmer was all right. "Did you see the man who was pulling the cart?"
"Yes. He was smart; he ran away before the banshee had a chance to scream and paralyze him. Unlike you, who clearly doesn't know anything about dealing with monsters.."
"Oh," the monk blushed, sheepishly. "Well, I guess I'll do it myself then."
"Do what?" Maeve asked as he returned to the cart.
"Bury her father of course."
She looked at him incredulously. "Are you an idiot? That woman was a banshee, she doesn't have a father!"
"Still," he said quietly as grabbed a shovel he began digging. "Whoever this person was, he was human, and he deserves a proper burial."
He's right, Maeve realized. Not many would be willing to stick around here after what happened. He's braver than he looks. Of course, not many people would offer to pay for a stranger's burial in the first place.
"Here, let me help."
By the time the sun was setting, the bones were buried and the monk had fashioned a simple cross from some fallen branches. He placed the cross where the headstone should have been, and scattered some flowers around the dirt.
"There. Now he can rest in peace."
The two stood silently for a moment to show their respect. The boy turned to go back to the village, but Maeve stopped him.
"I'm afraid this is where me must part ways. I'm heading on to another village." She shook his hand. "My name is Maeve, by the way."
"R-Frederick."
"It was nice to meet you Frederick." She pulled the mistletoe spear out of her bag and handed it to him. "Here. Just it case you run into more trouble."
"Thank you. I'll try not to, though."
He waved as she left down the path, waiting until she had disappeared through the trees before returning to the village for the night, lugging the farmer's cart behind him.
A/N: Have you figured out who Frederick is, yet?
