PART THE THIRTEENTH

IN WHICH THE BUCKYFLEET CRASHED HEADFIRST INTO BREE-CULTURE

(AKA, In which Cute Shipgirls Doing Cute Shipgirl Things is the order of the day)

Mutsuki's new bird-friend quickly found itself a place in the fleet, and not just as a spotter. The tweeting of the robin made the road less lonesome and more animate, and brought more than a few smiles across the fleet.

Except whenever they'd asked Mutsuki where the bird came from, or what her name is, she'd only shake her head and give them one of those "I'm not telling" smile.

Yuudachi had looked on, curious as she always was, but decided she would ask no question. It was a tacit agreement among the fleet: it was not an important matter what a bird's name was as long as it was helpful and kept morale high. Deep inside, though, she thought she knew why.

In a week's time they'd crossed the muddy, dirty part of the road with naught but woodland and rolling hills on either side. In another half-week, they'd now come across real signs of life: little hamlets of little cabins along the roadside, farmhands tilling rows of corn and wheat, vast meadows full of fluffy sheep and more than a few cows grazing and gallivanting about. There were no more incidents, save for one time Yuudachi's bike broke its chain – and even then, never underestimate what four determined warships and a few hundred fairies could accomplish in unison.

For the last few days of the journey the road had cut an uncomfortable detour around a very large swamp: the smell of dampness and things decomposing under the mud wafted far further than the fleet was comfortable with. A variety of midges and mosquitoes flew out from the muddy waters, and like dive-bombers harassed the fleet without end. Except, as the insects had unfortunately found out: against ironclad fleetgirls insect stingers were a poor substitute for actual torpedoes and bombs when they had half a mind to put their defenses to bear.

But the uncomfortable journey, at any rate, didn't take too long. It was a couple days before they saw (and smelled) the last of mud and dampness. Now they came across a land far greener and more lively than the wilderness they had been through. Before them now lay a broad country, yellow-gold with wheat and ears of corn beneath the deep blue sky.

There were folks about now, and curiously diverse at that. There were brown-haired men, not exactly tall but quite muscular and toughened by hard labor. There were "men", tall as a PT-girl at most, so round and hairy-footed, and never to be found with shoes (the first one they saw frightened Mutsuki into stammering). There were other, gruffer sorts of men, quite short but built like rocks (Yuudachi wondered if they were built of rocks, even).

Kongou wasted no time striking up conversation with as many as she could. It might be something in the air that might have made her feel right at home. She went "Aye, old chum, where to for a good old mug?" with a stout, short bearded fellow ("He's a dwarf," she said after he'd waved them goodbye). With a round, rolling tiny little man wearing a dandy shirt with brass buttons all over, she bowed and put up a vigorous "Well, my dear sir, that's a marvelous country you've got here!" ("That's a hobbit," she kindly noted right afterwards). And with a burly-looking man guiding his fluffy herd home, she just gave a very broad smile and inquired after his sheep, which apparently was the right way to talk to that sort of fellow.

In fact, so sociable and normal-sounding she was, that by the time they'd went up along the road to the gate of the little village on the wayside ("Welcome to Bree-land, mind your manners lasses," introduced a helpful local) Mutsuki was smiling and Yuudachi was excited and Fubuki was so, so paranoid (as in, 'who are you and what have you done to Kongou-san' paranoid).

"I just know, alright?" she said with an oh-so-bright smile, and pointed to her head and her bridge-fairies within, who were very nearly all of one voice – a chorus of happy and proud "Dess!". Kongou might have had a lot of advantages in other ways as a fast battleship, but having a share of bridge-fairies who just knew this sort of thing was outright unfair...

Hardly had they came through the simple village gate when Fubuki's face fell, her disappointment palpable.

This place was no industrial center. They should have expected as much, to be fair. The only industries available at all were cottage industries. Cheese. Butter. Sausages. A baker or two. A potter on one end of the village, a weaver at the other, and a carpenter and maker of household miscellanies in between. They'd ran into a couple of really short, really broad, thickly-bearded chaps on the way back, carrying lugging small bags of coal and ore – and right at the side of the village against the hillside was a small smithy churning out a lot of black smoke.

In a sense it was so peaceful. Some of her fairies who retained memories of the time before Japan became a great power were elated. This was just like home, except with oak instead of bamboo, cattle rather than fish, and more dairy than any traditional lactose-intolerant Japanese would know what to do with.

But Fubuki, being Fubuki, was too busy looking around for information and writing things down in her travel-log that not even the bright afternoon sun could make the anxious scowl on her face fade any. At once she came after the nearest man her size, clear her throat, and began firing away.

"Um, excuse me, mister?" she asked. "Is there any place around here where we could find a market?"

"Nope, no market here, 'cept for Periwinkle's butchery and Milkthistle's bakehouse," said the man with an amused look. "You looking to peddle stuff, you're outta luck."

Fubuki blinked. "But I thought Bree has a good-sized market, doesn't it?"

"Aye, not from about here, eh, lass?" He pointed to the road that went through the little village and out in the Northwest. "That's 'bout an hour on foot that-a-way to Bree, over the hill – not that 'far away'." He chuckled at his own joke.

Fubuki's blinking grew more rapid, and her face redder. "W-wait, so this isn't Bree?"

"Well, like we say 'round these parts," said the man, "it ain't Bree till you's seen the shine off the roof of that place, the Prancing Pony." He wagged his curled finger at the hilltop. "Got a market proper there if you got to sell."

By the time he finished with his giving direction and walked away with a hearty laugh, Fubuki was well on her way to engage 'scuttle-me-now' mode, it took Kongou's engine to tow her out of the spot.

It turned out that Bree, when they finally got to the other side of the hill and at the gate with the town's name helpfully painted on it, wasn't all that either. The town did have a fine-looking thicket fence from one part of the hill to the other, watch-posts and everything. And yet it was all Yuudachi could do not to shudder at how well it would possibly burn given a nice barrage of flammable munitions.

The first place they stopped, naturally, was the town inn. For one thing, Kongou had insisted ("What kind of adventurer would not visit the tavern first thing in the morning?" she said). For the other, the building was kind of right there and stood out so much it could hardly be missed: Sign painted white with a fancy rearing pony. Large, solid, three-storied stone building with lots of nice windows. The smell of things constantly being cooked wafting from the many ground-floor air gaps. And of course, the advertisement by the Staddle-farmer just before.

The first thing they saw entering the door at the side of the archway was a large man standing behind a counter, seemingly polishing the counter-top until it was sparkling clean – if only because there seemed nothing else to do in their sleepy town. The man, very portly and the proud owner of a massive mustache, perked up at once as the Fubuki fleet ushered in through the doorway.

"Come in, come in!" he hollered. "A customer, or four, look at that! Four women from afar, no doubt! Well, where have I heard it?" he said. "Definitely not something happening everyday, or I'm not Barnabas Butterbur!"

Fubuki stepped forward – awkwardly. "Um... are you the innkeeper, sir? Can we get a room or-"

"Yes, and yes, and for whatever that third thing is you have in mind (which I thought to be juicy gossips), that's a yes, too!" he said very quickly. "Like I said, name's Barnabas Butterbur – that's me name on the sign out there if you hasn't caught it. The family's been running this place for ages, in fact long enough you can come out there and ask any random Rushlight or Heathertoe or Ferny and they'd say rightly I'm among the most important person in this here county!"

He coughed and put his kerchief away. "By the by," he said. "You fine lasses coming from the East or South?"

Fubuki's shoulder seemingly tensed. "What's the difference, sir?"

"Not much about me, if you ask, 'cause good business is good business either way – Bree's not what it used to be after the Kings all went dead, they say. But then-"

Now he leaned a little closer towards Fubuki, sudden enough that the destroyer's shoulder shuddered.

"Uh... sir?"

And then equally as suddenly, the barman leaned back again.

"Why, if you lasses come from the East, I may have something for ya." There was a rustling sound: he produced from his pocket a very crumpled note. "Now, are there anyone among you lasses whose name is-" He began to read – difficultly. "Sen-dai, or Ji-jit-no, Jin't-soo, Gi- ah, never mind." He wiped his brows, and went on, "or Ki-ri-shi-ma, or Mu-Moo-Moot-su-"

At this the destroyer whose name was being mangled stepped forward. "It's Mutsuki, sir," she said, her face flushing. "T-that's me."

"Ah, yes, good, good," said Mr. Butterbur, looking her up and down intently. "Lemme see here... Comes from out East, check. Funny-colored hair, check. Lean and petite, check. Short skirt and leggings and-" Here he stared at her shirt hard enough to make her blush harder. "-crescent lapel on the vest, check, check and check."

"Well, you're probably her for all I know," he said, handed her the letter, and then swallowed hard. "All these strange, queer, foreign, Outsider names gonna break me poor tongue! Anyway, the wizard insisted that the letter be given to any one afore-named. Which is... even queerer, if you asked. But who am I to argue with a wizard?"

Yuudachi peeked from over her left shoulder, Fubuki looked over her right, and Kongou had her chin on the back of Mutsuki's head.

"Dear friends from the 'Naval District',

(Whomever that happens to be here, at any rate)

I've had to leave early – change of plans, among other things; chiefest of all the Master Dwarves being altogether keen on leaving much earlier than expected.

I dearly hope you are not coming alone – though I personally have, indeed, no doubt you've got a good team here already!

Perhaps you might like to be advised, that our Company shall be leaving the Shire no later than the Twenty-Fourth of April, and would make ourselves available in this very inn in no more than two weeks – one, if I could dislodge a too-comfortable old friend from his porch and his pipes and his comfortable ways. Should you like to avail yourselves of the occasion to join us, pray do not stray too far from Bree-land during the first week of May!

Bed and breakfast-through-supper at the Prancing Pony has already been paid for you, from my own pocket. Pray do enjoy the stay while you wait! It's a rare beauty, that is, Bree-land in late spring.

Yours, in amusement (and great merriment)

GANDALF

P.S. If the Misses Hazelnut and/or Diamond are about – which I am quite sure they should be, do tell them I appreciate them for the support they've likely given my case, and I most look forward to their participation in the Company.

P.P.S. If good old Barnabas Butterbur mangled the pronunciation of your name, do forgive him. Here's a good man, albeit a bit unlearnt in the ways of the man of letter.

P.P.P.S. I dearly hope the Prancing Pony is not in a dearth of black tea as was the case in your Naval District. If, however, this unfortunate trouble has indeed come to pass, let me know and there would be some rather harsh word for our dear innkeeper here."

Yuudachi blinked once and again at the letter. "Hazelnut, poi?" she said. "Diamo-" And then she spelled out the words in kanji, and suddenly everything was clear. "Kongou-san? Haruna-san?"

Blasted wizards talking in code, that was what it was.

Now Kongou's lips and eyebrows were twitching violently. "H-How did he know I would be here? How did he know Haruna-chan and I even support his adventure-thing at all?" she said "No, forget about that, how did he know our names?" A barely suppressed dess of questionable amusement escaped her.

"We've been too transparent, poi..." said Yuudachi. Fubuki was nodding rapidly.

"Anyway," said Barnabas Butterbur, "the wizard paid very handsomely, as he always does! One gold piece in deposit, and as many, he promised, as there would be of the women (and/or girls, he said, queerly enough!) who'd be staying at the one and only Prancing Pony at his request!"

"That... sounds so wrong, poi," said Yuudachi. Next to her, Kongou was making one of those that's-lewd faces of hers – hands over eyes and everything.

Given the scowl on the barkeeper's face, he well understood what they meant – and sort of took exception to the implication. "Ah, codswallop, that wizard? Queer fellow, he is, but altogether a good customer and a good man at that, and always has the courtesy not to frighten people though he darned well could have! Anyone laughs, tell them you heard it straight from Barnabas Butterbur himself! " He leaned against the counter-top. "And I say, like we do in Bree these days, any business is good business, welcome, do come again!"

"Well, it can't be helped if the old man's paid for our lodging," said Kongou. "I wouldn't turn down free bed and breakfast. Smells like..." Her sizable chest heaved in a hearty breath. "Good old Merry England hospitality."

By which she probably meant the absolutely glorious tea, scones and pastries being prepared in the kitchen just behind the innkeeper.

"Aye, room's on the house, and sup, and breakfast, and luncheon, and tea, for-" He counted off his fingers, "two weeks, or whenever the wizard returns, whichever comes first. That's what he said."

Then he reached his hand behind his back and secured his apron in place. "Now, shall I take you to your room?"

Theirs was a fine room: One window lookking out into the open street and another into the courtyard. Four beds each at a corner. A small wooden wardrobe with a row of small wooden coat-hangers. A table too small to dine on but too large for every other purpose in the middle. It felt home-like enough, anyone could agree, although the distinct lack of sea-breeze was a minus point. Yuudachi wouldn't hold it against the inn, however. It was built to cater to ordinary folks, not fleetgirls stuck in another world.

Barnabas Butterbur, the jolly old innkeeper, turned out to be quite the trustworthy sort. He'd agreed to keep their bikes towed away safely where no-one would look too hard ("Friends of wizards having wizardly stuff, no doubt," he'd dismissed it, and asked no more questions). He'd also provided them a few destinations to visit: there was an Austri and Vestri's Forge, a good dwarf-run smithy, for one, and a Brockhouse's Everyday Sundries for groceries, and a Mr. Underhill's Undercellar for dried stuff, among other fanciful, punny, or outright weird shop-names.

Fubuki kept all of them, as was other snippets she'd heard, in her notes.

Kongou, as was the norm, was a little less keen on doing market research, and a lot keener on attending the pubhouse. "Just heading off right here and mingle for a bit," she said. "Shall I be back at dinner?"

"I... guess so," said Fubuki anxiously. "Probably earlier if you can, Kongou-san? I'll just swing by the market; it shouldn't take too long. A-and please don't cause any troubl- Ah!"

Fubuki's reward for her mother-henning was a stern ruffle of her hair.

"It's all right, Bucky, it's all right!" She coughed, cleared her throat, and produced the best Kirishima impersonation Yuudachi had ever seen. "According to all calculations we've got nothing to worry about; what could possibly go wrong?"

Fubuki's face turned all sorts of funny colors again, until another hair ruffle made her finally settle with beet red.

Kongou did what she did best: take a random seat in the middle of the Common, loudly yelling for the largest teapot they had on the house and a plate of pastry best described as "diabetic".

Fubuki very, very quietly slinked out of the front door and past the white-painted sign of the Prancing Pony – she couldn't have looked more like an awkward ninja in orange if she tried.

Now there was Yuudachi and Mutsuki, a half-afternoon with nothing to do, and a sleepy town. What was a bored destroyer to do?

Actually, there's one thing I can do, poi.

She looked at Mutsuki, and immediately the course was clear.

"Hmm?" she said. "Do you need anything, Yuudachi-chan?"

Because Yuudachi might be simple, and unforgivably impetuous. She could lose a wordplay contest against some of the PT-girls fresh off the factory. She didn't think much before talking, and that was if she thought at all, as if thinking more than a few seconds at a time was overrated. She would likewise think nothing of charging an enemy gunship with nothing but a bit of tattered sail.

But she wasn't stupid.

She was smart enough, for instance, to tell that Mutsuki was distressed and never quite recovered. She was smart enough to tell that there was not much anyone could do for Mutsuki but pity her, and pity was distinctly not what she needed. And of course, she was smart enough (or at least, smart and ignorant enough) to tell that when all other paths had failed, there was still the path of the poi~.

So she extended her hand: literally, and figuratively.

"Nope, nothing, not at all, poi," she said. "I just thought you might want some company, poi."

"Huh?"

"Want a walk, poi?" Yuudachi said. "It's a really good place for a walk, poi!"And then she broke into a smile: because opposite to her, Mutsuki's lips was curling into a smile too.

"Yeah," said Mutsuki.

So they walked. They walked out of the sun-flooded archway of the Prancing Pony and past its white-painted sign. They walked through the stone-tiled streets, and past a small crowd of Bree-landers going about their businerss. They walked along the hedge-wall that separated Bree from Not-Bree. They walked out from the gate still opened ("Remember it closes at eight!" hollered the guard. She gave him a cursory nod and a typical 'airheaded-but-good-girl' wink, and pulled Mutsuki along the road).

They walked along the scenic road past and about Bree-hill, round the slope and past the rows of corns and wheat, and got so far back East they saw a crude, white-painted sign that said "Welcome to Staddle". Then they turned around back the same way, and when the large hedge-wall of Bree was within sight, the sun was setting.

They sat down on a large rock that looked out into the fields below the hillside. The roof of the three-storied Prancing Pony was barely visible in the distance. Down below, the sheep were coming home, and the ears of corn glowed in the sunset.

Yuudachi leaned back, and took in so much of that cool spring breeze.

It was absolutely breathtaking, that sight from the hilltop, and the feeling that came with it. It got her thinking – only a little, and that little was more profound than they'd give Yuudachi credit for. Something had happened to them, something scary, something unnatural, something really, really distressing and hopeless. And yet... well, like they always said, there was good things to be had, and hope if they knew where to look.

Her shoulder suddenly felt heavier. Mutsuki had laid her head upon it; now the other destroyer had shifted her weight, and was leaning on her.

"Yuudachi-chan?" she said.

"Mmm?"

There was a smile on Mutsuki's face now: a genuine smile, relaxed and carefree, for the first time since perhaps forever. "Thank you," she said, her face turning to a happy shade of pink.

And Yuudachi said what she said best.

"Poi~" she went, and gazed at the twilight with a beaming smile of her own.