025: Strangers
A dark, hooded being walked through the pouring rain up to an old, dilapidated house. The being knocked on the door once, twice, three times. There was a shuffling behind the door, and a ragged man opened it. He blinked through filmy eyes at the stranger.
"Who's it that comes to me door?" the man asked in a voice as ragged as his clothing.
"One who seeks refuge from this frightful storm," the hooded being tiredly replied.
"Do ye have payment?" the man questioned. The hooded one sighed, and dug around in a pocket in his cloak. He pulled out three tarnished bronze coins and showed them to the man.
"Is this enough to secure lodging?" The man examined the coins.
"Mushroomian by make. That'll fetch a pretty price at the market. Aye, that is enough. Come on in." The man held the door open and the hooded one ducked in under the man's arm.
The hooded one looked around the one-room house. In a corner was a pile of Muth furs and a crude pillow. A small fire burned in the middle of the house, shedding light on half-eaten meals. A slab of meat hung on a stick above the fire. Next to the pile of furs, a rainbow-colored butterfly sat upon a piece of wood. The butterfly turned to the hooded stranger, and surprise was evident in her voice.
"Who is this, Thyl?" the butterfly asked.
"This is- well, I don't rightly know. What do ye call yerself?" Thyl inquired of the hooded one.
"I am known as Miditone," the hooded one replied.
"Miditone, eh? Well, whatever yer called, ye paid, so I sure better share me abode with ye. Roasted Muth?" Thyl offered.
"No, thank you. I have eaten already," Miditone said.
"Suit yerself." Thyl sat down on a rickety chair and pulled the meat off of the fire. "So, ye must have come far. Ye seem tired. Where'r ye from?"
Miditone lowered himself onto the floor and sat cross-legged. "I come from the land of the Dansyllids."
"I've never heard of the Dansyllids," the butterfly said.
"Hush, Tippi. I'm sure the Dan-syl-lids are very secretive," Thyl chastised.
"So, the butterfly is named Tippi?" Miditone asked.
Tippi's antennae twitched; neither of the other two saw this. "Yes. She's called Tippi," Thyl responded. "She's me companion for a while."
"I see."
"Why don't you take off your cloak?" Tippi questioned, redirecting the topic of conversation. "I'm sure you'd like it to dry?"
"Thank you, but no."
"Ah, come on," Thyl said. "It can't hurt."
"Fine, I will take off my cloak." Miditone stood up and removed the cloak. When he took it off, purple and yellow finery was revealed. Thyl gaped.
"Are ye a prince?" Thyl asked.
"Close, but no. I am a jester. I am the royal jester of the Dansyllids," Miditone answered.
"What are you doing so far from your land?" Tippi inquired.
"I'd rather not say. Let it be said that the king was no longer pleased with my.... choices."
Tippi was about to say something else, but she was interrupted by Thyl yawning. "I'm going to bed. Ye may sleep on the furs if ye wish, Miditone. I'll sleep on the floor."
"Thank you kindly." Miditone left his cloak on the ground by the fire and walked over to the furs. He looked askance at them, and then shrugged and laid down on the furs. Thyl put some water on the fire, and promptly fell asleep. Tippi watched Miditone for a while, then fell asleep herself. Miditone lay awake even longer, murmuring to himself about the hospitality of strangers.
When Thyl and Tippi awoke, Miditone was sitting in the rickety chair, busily writing what appeared to be a letter. At the sound of them waking up, Miditone looked at them.
"Thank you for the sleeping place," Miditone said, resuming his writing. "I must leave soon. I need to make good time on my journey."
"Why not stay longer?" Tippi asked.
"Hush, Tippi. He is busy, he said so himself." Thyl turned to Miditone. "Good luck on yer journey, Miditone."
"Thank you, Thyl. And now I am gone, like Muth left out for vultures. Farewell." Miditone exited the house and closed the door. Thyl and Tippi watched him leave, then turned their attention to the letter Miditone had left on the table. Thyl picked it up and read it, Tippi looking over his shoulder.
Thyl and Tippi,
I thank you for letting me, a stranger, into your house when I was tired and wet. You will notice that I have left my cloak behind. You need it more than I do, Thyl. Why I was prompted to stop at your house I will never know, and I will never know why I didn't decide to send you both to the Underwhere. Perhaps it is because you are the only ones who have shown me hospitality; I don't know. Perhaps it was a wild idea that I caught hold of. Perhaps, for now, I am tired of murder. Needless to say, I will not know why I was kind to you two. Be glad, though. If I hadn't felt compelled to be kind, you both would be in the Underwhere right now, on a whim.
Farewell, and may we never meet again,
Dimentio (Miditone)
Thyl and Tippi stared at each other, shocked.
"We harbored a dangerous murderer. In our house. Last night," Tippi said.
"But think of it this way, Tippi. Even the most dangerous murderers are kind, sometimes. Especially when they meet kind strangers."
A/N: This one was fun to write. I especially enjoyed writing Dimentio's letter to Thyl and Tippi. Really, this idea came about when I thought, "Hey, what happened to make Tippi know who Dimentio was before SPM? Why don't I write about it?" And thus, this story was born.