Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, it belongs to J.R.R.
Tolkien.
Author's Note:
Neh. This chapter's kinda' weird. The next one will be better. Oh well. Better than nothing.
~Naheka
Wind and Fire
Chapter 5
The Red Ivy Inn
"Brant, you should have been there. Twas a mighty extreme deal he made with a man he's only known for three days," said the waitress, collecting plates from the round wooden tables -- the ones with the battered, wine-stained surfaces secretly engraved with initials of its previous guests on the underside. All twenty-five of these identically crafted tables had similar scars front and back, but they were still yet reliable for the needs of their purpose. Narcissus handed a stack of plates to the bar-tender, whose name we now know as Brant.
"Ah, but a mighty bargain can bring mighty rewards," replied Brant, chuckling deeply. He lead the waitress through the aisles of chattering men, half drunk with morning ale, to the swinging kitchen doors. "And as long as the lad doesn't poison the food or drop dead in the middle of his work..." at this point, he flung the doors open, revealing a busy crew of a casual Saturday morning. Like dancers performing a routine, different maids and men rushed back and forth, up and down the long kitchen floors, visiting different cabinets, stopping occasionally to clarify and order, and doing the business of waiters and of the like. However, there was one dancer who performed with the most queer movements, yet also with much dexterity. "...I think Roni should do fine."
"He is called Oni," corrected the waitress.
"Ah! Two curious names for two curious individuals!" With a smile, he dropped the dirty plates onto the counter and headed out the door. "You two make a pair."
"Oh, do shut up."
---
"Rise at five, dine at nine, sup at five, retire at nine, for a long life. Rise at five, dine at nine..."
It was the same tedious, irking line in his head, over and over again since six thirty in the morning. Was a free room for an unknown amount of time really worth cutting down four hours of his sleep? He deeply thought not, but knowing that said circumstances were only temporary, he kept to the same tedious, irking line in his head, over and over again until it was time for him to retire.
Oni looked down where a soggy piece of parchment lay on the counter. It was a list of common foods made for breakfast. It read:
Liquor
Fish
Beef
Bread
Cheese
Toast in wine
"Toast in wine?" he thought. "That's just disgusting." He stared down at the list again. Why was the rum at the top of the list? He stood still for a few moments. Then he looked to the left, and then to the right. Without anyone noticing, he seized the parchment, neatly and quickly ripped off the top, and tossed it into the fire. It burned quite nicely to his delight. He figured that no one would really need the alcohol at seven in the morning.
"The griddle pan should be heated by now."
Oni whipped around, startled and hoping that he wouldn't be arrested for tossing liquor out of the menu. It was one of the kitchen boys, carrying a barrel of wheat to the storage room, who was also responsible for lighting the fire to heat the pans. The boy stared at Oni, caught off guard with the older one's aloof, bewildered stare. They both blinked, and with a latent shiver, the boy walked off to the cellar. In a moment, the cook went back to his work. He reached to his right and uncorked a large, square glass bottle, full of white wine. Picking it up, he heaved a lot of it into a pot that sat beside the griddle pan. Then he put his fists on his waist and waited.
"You know that if you let the wine sit there for too long, all the alcohol goes away?" asked a distant voice from his meandering imagination. In the last hour or so, Oni had made three pots of tea, a loaf's worth of toast, sliced through five blocks of cheese, and cooked half a pound of meat. The fish was sitting in the oily griddle pan, a slimy bubble occasionally popping around its motionless, scaly frame. Later, he would swish it in the pan with the wine, chop off its head, and put some bread on the side before sending it out to a customer who had just sat down to make his usual morning order.
"Rise at five, dine at nine..."
"Hullo? You're going to make the drunk-ness fly out of the wine!" recalled the voice. Oni turned his attention to another kitchen boy that stood behind him. He recognized his face. It was Thomas, the prat from the night before, polishing a glass with a rag in his left hand. His freckles bunched up on his cheeks as he squinted with concern for the pint of wine sitting in the pot. Oni raised his eyebrows, the darkness in his eyes tranquil and somber.
"I know," said the cook dully.
"Father isn't going to be happy," answered Thomas, continuing to wipe the glass.
"Sauce," replied Oni simply.
"You're a strange bloke, you really are," the kitchen boy said softly, taking his leave out the door to the front of the bar, probably to tell his favorite waitress that there was a madman making the food in the kitchen.
Oni quietly went back to work, grateful that at least this time, the harassment was mild. "Better than being a kitchen boy," he added as a final thought, picking up the pot of wine, and dumping some of its contents onto the nice, juicy fish that lay dead on the griddle pan.
---
On Sunday nights, the Red Ivy Inn closed early. It was eleven o'clock, and the bar was closed, leaving the inn almost completely empty of customers except for a few late ones and those who were staying in the rooms upstairs for the night. The waiters and cooks rounded up the evening leftovers and had it for themselves, spreading them out on two different tables. One table was in the main eating deck, and the other was in the kitchen. There were two because of gender-based distinctions.
"Aoreth loves him!" giggled a middle-aged woman who sat at the table in the main deck. There were about half a dozen women, all clad in faded cotton dresses and stained white aprons, gathered around the same battered table in the Red Ivy Inn. The conversation was always trying to keep up with the latest town gossip, and much of it was received through the customers that walked in and out of the bar. Red Ivy legend told that no man could possibly bear to sit with the women for just one of these conversations. In fact, the men, also a half-dozen lot, were eating in the kitchen, separate from their women in order to avoid such conversations, but simply explained that it was to manly conduct their manly way of eating. The women often made quite a series of jokes concerning this matter, and took delight in dining with an all-female company.
Aoreth's black hair fell over her face as she flushed a deep red in her smooth, pale cheeks, her slender limbs contracting in a squeamish manner. Some of the women burst out into laughter, while others just shook their heads. Narcissus was of the ones who shook their heads, and she shook it with the truest of movements. "Oh Aoreth, you sweet child," said another older woman, "you needn't be so coy!" The conversation among the Red Ivy women, though mostly consisting of gossip, was always this ridiculous, and it always centered around Aoreth, the youngest, the fairest, and the prettiest maiden that ever walked through the Inn doors. Whose charm had instantly gotten her a job. Whose love was fancied by many men many a day after.
For a moment, Narcissus sat still, trying to control a shudder that had just passed over her thin figure as she sat on a crate in the corner of the table. The other women had come in for a job with their dirty husbands in tow, or hooded from a rain that poured outside. Narcissus, however, had practically been raised around the Inn all her life, coming as an orphan looking for work at the age of eight.
Aoreth had the perfect laugh, too, clear enough to brighten anyone's day. Narcissus had a lower, quiet laugh that often went unheard. She took a sip of tea. They met and became friends when they were both sixteen. In the ten years that had passed, nothing much had changed. Aoreth's white complexion was near flawless as it ever was, and Narcissus' still bore the scars from a rough, yet common adolescence. She had shallower cheeks and her skin was tarnished from hot water, both on her hands and on her face, from a few accidents in her younger age. In solemn conclusion, she thought as she finished her tea, Narcissus was thankful to have the long dark hair that hung long, to cover her hideous face of a commoner.
At this point, Aoreth broke through the conversation and asked her friend what made her hang so gloomily. Narcissus didn't look up and said that it was no problem.
---
The act of eating at a table propped up on two empty barrels and sitting on crates was a sign of masculinity at the Red Ivy Inn. Oni thought the idea was rather superfluous, but coped silently with it as he sat in the very furthest and very darkest corner of the table. The men did not have too much conversation at first, until one of the boys made a comment about the old woman that had walked in at four o'clock with her arms full of pine cones. She claimed that every Unicode was worth a pint of liquor, since they were actually golden pine cones that looked like regular pine cones. The old woman was sent out of the bar ten minutes later.
After this comment, the table came to life with assorted conversation and a symphony of belches. Most of the talk was about the women that came in and out of the bar. The rest was about the daily profits. Oni did not take much part in the conversation, except to nod a thank-you when one of the cooks complimented on his culinary skills. He finished his dinner early and was the first to dump his dishes in the sink. Then he picked up his heavy feet and dragged himself out the kitchen door and into the main eating area.
---
There was an unnatural silence as Oni entered the women's dining area. He pretended to take no notice of it and continued on his path from the kitchen door, across the bar, and outside to the front entrance. The door lock, glazed lightly with snow, clicked gently beneath his fingers, and the hinges creaked so delicately, that one could barely hear it. As if trying to sneak out unnoticed, Oni slipped through the doorway, and closed it without a sound.
"Go after him," suggested another of the middle-aged women with excitement.
"I couldn't possibly!" chuckled Aoreth, hiding her face in her hair again.
There was the predicted flow of encouragement for the pretty girl to warm up to the mysterious individual.
Enough.
"I could," muttered Narcissus. She shoved her plate onto the wine-stained, battered table surface, and got up to walk to the door. She ignored the sound of quiet murmur that began to rise amongst the half dozen women sitting around the table. She shrugged. Maybe Aoreth would not be the only one getting the attention the next time everyone gathered for supper.
[footnote]
The first chapter of the sequel to "The File Cabinet" is somewhat near completion. This is quite an impossible question, but if you have any title suggestions, please do not hesitate in sharing them.
Thanks muchly,
Naheka
Author's Note:
Neh. This chapter's kinda' weird. The next one will be better. Oh well. Better than nothing.
~Naheka
Wind and Fire
Chapter 5
The Red Ivy Inn
"Brant, you should have been there. Twas a mighty extreme deal he made with a man he's only known for three days," said the waitress, collecting plates from the round wooden tables -- the ones with the battered, wine-stained surfaces secretly engraved with initials of its previous guests on the underside. All twenty-five of these identically crafted tables had similar scars front and back, but they were still yet reliable for the needs of their purpose. Narcissus handed a stack of plates to the bar-tender, whose name we now know as Brant.
"Ah, but a mighty bargain can bring mighty rewards," replied Brant, chuckling deeply. He lead the waitress through the aisles of chattering men, half drunk with morning ale, to the swinging kitchen doors. "And as long as the lad doesn't poison the food or drop dead in the middle of his work..." at this point, he flung the doors open, revealing a busy crew of a casual Saturday morning. Like dancers performing a routine, different maids and men rushed back and forth, up and down the long kitchen floors, visiting different cabinets, stopping occasionally to clarify and order, and doing the business of waiters and of the like. However, there was one dancer who performed with the most queer movements, yet also with much dexterity. "...I think Roni should do fine."
"He is called Oni," corrected the waitress.
"Ah! Two curious names for two curious individuals!" With a smile, he dropped the dirty plates onto the counter and headed out the door. "You two make a pair."
"Oh, do shut up."
---
"Rise at five, dine at nine, sup at five, retire at nine, for a long life. Rise at five, dine at nine..."
It was the same tedious, irking line in his head, over and over again since six thirty in the morning. Was a free room for an unknown amount of time really worth cutting down four hours of his sleep? He deeply thought not, but knowing that said circumstances were only temporary, he kept to the same tedious, irking line in his head, over and over again until it was time for him to retire.
Oni looked down where a soggy piece of parchment lay on the counter. It was a list of common foods made for breakfast. It read:
Liquor
Fish
Beef
Bread
Cheese
Toast in wine
"Toast in wine?" he thought. "That's just disgusting." He stared down at the list again. Why was the rum at the top of the list? He stood still for a few moments. Then he looked to the left, and then to the right. Without anyone noticing, he seized the parchment, neatly and quickly ripped off the top, and tossed it into the fire. It burned quite nicely to his delight. He figured that no one would really need the alcohol at seven in the morning.
"The griddle pan should be heated by now."
Oni whipped around, startled and hoping that he wouldn't be arrested for tossing liquor out of the menu. It was one of the kitchen boys, carrying a barrel of wheat to the storage room, who was also responsible for lighting the fire to heat the pans. The boy stared at Oni, caught off guard with the older one's aloof, bewildered stare. They both blinked, and with a latent shiver, the boy walked off to the cellar. In a moment, the cook went back to his work. He reached to his right and uncorked a large, square glass bottle, full of white wine. Picking it up, he heaved a lot of it into a pot that sat beside the griddle pan. Then he put his fists on his waist and waited.
"You know that if you let the wine sit there for too long, all the alcohol goes away?" asked a distant voice from his meandering imagination. In the last hour or so, Oni had made three pots of tea, a loaf's worth of toast, sliced through five blocks of cheese, and cooked half a pound of meat. The fish was sitting in the oily griddle pan, a slimy bubble occasionally popping around its motionless, scaly frame. Later, he would swish it in the pan with the wine, chop off its head, and put some bread on the side before sending it out to a customer who had just sat down to make his usual morning order.
"Rise at five, dine at nine..."
"Hullo? You're going to make the drunk-ness fly out of the wine!" recalled the voice. Oni turned his attention to another kitchen boy that stood behind him. He recognized his face. It was Thomas, the prat from the night before, polishing a glass with a rag in his left hand. His freckles bunched up on his cheeks as he squinted with concern for the pint of wine sitting in the pot. Oni raised his eyebrows, the darkness in his eyes tranquil and somber.
"I know," said the cook dully.
"Father isn't going to be happy," answered Thomas, continuing to wipe the glass.
"Sauce," replied Oni simply.
"You're a strange bloke, you really are," the kitchen boy said softly, taking his leave out the door to the front of the bar, probably to tell his favorite waitress that there was a madman making the food in the kitchen.
Oni quietly went back to work, grateful that at least this time, the harassment was mild. "Better than being a kitchen boy," he added as a final thought, picking up the pot of wine, and dumping some of its contents onto the nice, juicy fish that lay dead on the griddle pan.
---
On Sunday nights, the Red Ivy Inn closed early. It was eleven o'clock, and the bar was closed, leaving the inn almost completely empty of customers except for a few late ones and those who were staying in the rooms upstairs for the night. The waiters and cooks rounded up the evening leftovers and had it for themselves, spreading them out on two different tables. One table was in the main eating deck, and the other was in the kitchen. There were two because of gender-based distinctions.
"Aoreth loves him!" giggled a middle-aged woman who sat at the table in the main deck. There were about half a dozen women, all clad in faded cotton dresses and stained white aprons, gathered around the same battered table in the Red Ivy Inn. The conversation was always trying to keep up with the latest town gossip, and much of it was received through the customers that walked in and out of the bar. Red Ivy legend told that no man could possibly bear to sit with the women for just one of these conversations. In fact, the men, also a half-dozen lot, were eating in the kitchen, separate from their women in order to avoid such conversations, but simply explained that it was to manly conduct their manly way of eating. The women often made quite a series of jokes concerning this matter, and took delight in dining with an all-female company.
Aoreth's black hair fell over her face as she flushed a deep red in her smooth, pale cheeks, her slender limbs contracting in a squeamish manner. Some of the women burst out into laughter, while others just shook their heads. Narcissus was of the ones who shook their heads, and she shook it with the truest of movements. "Oh Aoreth, you sweet child," said another older woman, "you needn't be so coy!" The conversation among the Red Ivy women, though mostly consisting of gossip, was always this ridiculous, and it always centered around Aoreth, the youngest, the fairest, and the prettiest maiden that ever walked through the Inn doors. Whose charm had instantly gotten her a job. Whose love was fancied by many men many a day after.
For a moment, Narcissus sat still, trying to control a shudder that had just passed over her thin figure as she sat on a crate in the corner of the table. The other women had come in for a job with their dirty husbands in tow, or hooded from a rain that poured outside. Narcissus, however, had practically been raised around the Inn all her life, coming as an orphan looking for work at the age of eight.
Aoreth had the perfect laugh, too, clear enough to brighten anyone's day. Narcissus had a lower, quiet laugh that often went unheard. She took a sip of tea. They met and became friends when they were both sixteen. In the ten years that had passed, nothing much had changed. Aoreth's white complexion was near flawless as it ever was, and Narcissus' still bore the scars from a rough, yet common adolescence. She had shallower cheeks and her skin was tarnished from hot water, both on her hands and on her face, from a few accidents in her younger age. In solemn conclusion, she thought as she finished her tea, Narcissus was thankful to have the long dark hair that hung long, to cover her hideous face of a commoner.
At this point, Aoreth broke through the conversation and asked her friend what made her hang so gloomily. Narcissus didn't look up and said that it was no problem.
---
The act of eating at a table propped up on two empty barrels and sitting on crates was a sign of masculinity at the Red Ivy Inn. Oni thought the idea was rather superfluous, but coped silently with it as he sat in the very furthest and very darkest corner of the table. The men did not have too much conversation at first, until one of the boys made a comment about the old woman that had walked in at four o'clock with her arms full of pine cones. She claimed that every Unicode was worth a pint of liquor, since they were actually golden pine cones that looked like regular pine cones. The old woman was sent out of the bar ten minutes later.
After this comment, the table came to life with assorted conversation and a symphony of belches. Most of the talk was about the women that came in and out of the bar. The rest was about the daily profits. Oni did not take much part in the conversation, except to nod a thank-you when one of the cooks complimented on his culinary skills. He finished his dinner early and was the first to dump his dishes in the sink. Then he picked up his heavy feet and dragged himself out the kitchen door and into the main eating area.
---
There was an unnatural silence as Oni entered the women's dining area. He pretended to take no notice of it and continued on his path from the kitchen door, across the bar, and outside to the front entrance. The door lock, glazed lightly with snow, clicked gently beneath his fingers, and the hinges creaked so delicately, that one could barely hear it. As if trying to sneak out unnoticed, Oni slipped through the doorway, and closed it without a sound.
"Go after him," suggested another of the middle-aged women with excitement.
"I couldn't possibly!" chuckled Aoreth, hiding her face in her hair again.
There was the predicted flow of encouragement for the pretty girl to warm up to the mysterious individual.
Enough.
"I could," muttered Narcissus. She shoved her plate onto the wine-stained, battered table surface, and got up to walk to the door. She ignored the sound of quiet murmur that began to rise amongst the half dozen women sitting around the table. She shrugged. Maybe Aoreth would not be the only one getting the attention the next time everyone gathered for supper.
[footnote]
The first chapter of the sequel to "The File Cabinet" is somewhat near completion. This is quite an impossible question, but if you have any title suggestions, please do not hesitate in sharing them.
Thanks muchly,
Naheka