A/N: This episode of Cheers was made for live fanfic readers. ;)
Chapter 5: Cheers to Where Everybody Knows Your Name
"Harry!" The bar patrons shouted to Good Wizard Harold of Leicester as he entered the Hobgoblin Tavern and Inn for Magical Folk. On official writs and petitions, his name was Harold of Leicester, but to all his friends, he was just "Harry".
"How's life treating you, Mr. Leicester?" a simple boy named Roddy asked, assisting Godric the Great.
"Like it caught me stealing its golden harp and hen that lays golden eggs," Harold said dryly, as he pushed his way through the crowd and he dragged his feet on the sticky floor to his favorite barstool. "Give me a beer, son!" he shouted, in desperate need of the barley liquid to help him forget his troubles.
The boy tilted his head quizzically, but poured him a beer anyway.
"What's up, Harry?" Godric the Great, unbelievably tending bar, asked although he was clearly too busy to hear the answer as he was dealing with an increasingly belligerent dwarf. Even as everyone at this tavern had become familiar with Godric the Great, Harry still couldn't believe he was sitting so close and face-to-face with him.
It had been a long day for Harold. Twelve hours of non-stop preparation for the Trials in the City of London. Endless meetings, negotiations, compromises, and having to hear one arrogant self-important wizard argue with an equally arrogant self-important wizard over the most mundane and pedantic details. He surmised that it was his time to pay the piper for the mini-vacation he had just enjoyed.
Ten days ago, he had traveled over one hundred miles to the Roman city of London for the Festival and Trials. Getting his dates mixed up, as was not unusual for Harold, he ended up lodging at the Hobgoblin Inn and Tavern for Magical Folk for much longer than expected.
But unlike most other times when Harry mixed up his days, his early arrival was quite fortuitous. Oh the things he had seen! Songs, dance, magical tricks, a makeshift dueling tournament, an angry goblin swearing vengeance upon Godric the Great, a surly man concocting a time-sensitive antidote to a serpent's venom just in time before he could succumb to death by poisoning, the creation of the most delicious and delectable dishes he had ever tasted, dozens and dozens of newcomers entering the tavern and setting up stalls and tents where they would practice their magic tricks and spells to impress the judges at the forthcoming Trials. Oh yes, there were sights to see.
He hadn't had so much fun in his life. The Trials were worth putting on just to see the spectacle of an overly confident and self-assured wizard try to show off to another overly confident and self-assured wizard. Seeing people undermine each other's confidences leaving both wizards feeling worse for the wear was much more entertaining than Harold had realized.
But there'd been challenges too. Faced with having to share accommodation with other souls, he found it more and more difficult to sleep as the farting and snoring bodies surrounded him in the night. As if that weren't unpleasant enough, with the slew of magical folk came ghostly visitors to the tavern. Violent magical creatures sensing magic came, too, in swarms, and increasingly drunken patrons and ladies of the night vying for attention and coin who would later fight with the landlady about said coin. Not to mention having to converse with arrogant eggheads who never welcomed him to their reindeer games as they made it known that they, and only they, had the key to wizardom's future, and nobody else was worthy of their company.
However, now, sitting at his seat on the stool at the bar where Godric was too busy dealing with an unruly dwarf looking for a brawl after drinking triple his size in fire whiskey, Harold was facing his biggest challenge yet. His beer mug was empty and the boy was nowhere to be found. He sighed. He would have to try to get service from her.
"Oh, Miss!" Harry shouted out to Rowena Ravenclaw, perched on her usual stool. She was wearing an apron and was supposedly made a waitress two nights ago, but she could have fooled him. Her nose was stuck in a book as she paid him no mind.
"Miss!" Harry shouted again over the noise of the other increasingly drunken patrons.
Finally, the raven-haired Scottish beauty lifted that snooty chin of hers. With a prolonged sigh, she closed her book and asked, "Harold?"
"What are you reading there?" Harry asked, intently trying to read the title on the spine.
Rowena's face lit up and her mouth started to open to inform him of the title, but Harold had another question up his sleeve.
"A book?" Harry interrupted, smirking, hoping to annoy the woman.
She rolled her eyes, stood up and placed herself behind the bar, ready for his order.
"My gut has been infested with parasitic beelzebub bugs, they're all calling out for beer!"
"Alright, Harold, alright," Rowena replied.
As she prepared a mug to pour, Harold added, "Better make it a tall one, in case I like it."
Rowena smirked as she grabbed a steiner. Harold licked his lips in anticipation of tasting the cold brew. Thank goodness this was a magical folk bar where any barkeep worth his salt knew all the best chilling charms.
"Another day, another piece of coin, eh, Harold?" Mrs. Mouffat asked, coming around the bar to fill up more mugs of beer for the unruly patrons at the tables. Harold eyed the tall stacks of unwashed cups and mugs as he waved away the heavy cloud of smoke that accumulated near the bar.
"Just a chink of metal after taxes, eh?" Harold responded as Mrs. Mouffat, carrying a tray full of filled glasses, made her way round the otherside of the bar.
Mrs. Mouffat playfully elbowed Harold in his belly.
Suddenly, Helga the kitchen witch appeared before the bar. "Rowena, I have four tables' worth of orders waiting to get out!" Helga yelled. "Can you please start serving them?"
"Oh," Rowena said, as she turned a page. "It's just I ran into this fascinating excerpt that asks us whether wands need a point!"
"Fascinating…" Mrs. Mouffat responded sardonically, sharing an eye roll and a headshake with Harry.
"It is!" Rowena shouted gleefully.
The familiar crowd groaned for what was next to come.
"This researcher, L.S. Neuwirth has hit upon something big!" Rowena protested against the noise of mass discouragement. "There's a huge debate right now about whether we should come up with a uniform way to spellcast, and most studies have shown that wooden sticks are the best transfers of offensive spells and even defensive ones. However, that would include batons like I use, staffs, sharp pointed wands, dull sticks, tree branches…"
"A thick and long piece of hard English wood!" Godric bellowed as he gyrated. A few other men laughed along with him.
Rowena rolled her eyes. Before she could continue, Helga said, "You're right, it is fascinating, but it can wait. I need help now." With a sympathetic if exaggeratedly long sigh, Helga continued, "Listen, I've only known you for two days, and I enjoy being around you, but if you don't do what you need to be doing, then I can't work with you."
Harold admired the way Helga did not admonish Rowena but appealed to her in a reasonable, soft tone of voice.
Rowena paused for a moment, face tightened, as she took in what Helga had just said. "You're right, Helga, I apologize." Rowena promptly closed the book, tightened her apron, and started for the kitchen. My actions have inconvenienced you and made your job more difficult, I'll try to be more considerate."
"Thank you!" Helga shouted before kissing Rowena on the forehead.
"Hurry up in here!" screamed Salazar. "The sauce is ready but there's no course to put it on!"
"Hold your horses!" Helga shouted back as she and Rowena disappeared into the kitchen.
"I have to admit, I'm gonna miss them. Tomorrow's their last day," Mouffat said.
"Yeah, but the tavern will be manageable again with less people, eh?" Harold asked.
"You'd think so, but so many people are deciding to stay put and set up shop. They like being around other wizards, apparently."
"It would be interesting to see if an alley full of permanently situated magical folk could sustain itself."
"Wouldn't that be a sight to see, luv!" Mouffat responded. "If this keeps up, I'll enough coin to afford permanent paid help, I reckon."
"Luv?" Harold asked, wondering when Mouffat started saying that.
"Argh! These scarlet women makin' me speak like 'em!" Mouffat replied as she shook her head and started loading a huge tray with mugs of beer.
"How are the kiddies that you've taken in treatin' ya?"
"Well, one's a brat, one's sneaky, and the other one's dumb," Mouffat replied, describing Lettice, Lovage, and Roddy respectively. Her eyes keen on Roddy, she added, "He's my favorite."
Harold and Mouffat shared a laugh before she picked up the tray of beer and headed off to the tables. "Don't stand there like a dullard! Go fetch more barrels of ale!" Mouffat commanded Roddy.
As Roddy hurried off to the basement to fetch more barrels of ale, Harold caught sight of old man Carannog, dozing off. Harold then thought to try an experiment.
"Oy! Give me a Greengrass Gin with a purified Tentacle Tonic water!"
As if he had never been asleep, Carannog jolted up and began to make the drink.
Harold chuckled as he felt he learned all the tricks of this tavern now.
Carannog handed a glass cup to Harry, knowing he'd made the perfect gin and tonic. He watched as Harry downed it in one gulp. Harry's self-satisfied grin that followed told him everything he needed to know about the quality of his elixir. He then sat back at his comfortable stool and placed his left hand on his trusty self-authored book of tonics, elixirs, and potions and his right on his Bible. Despite some of the clergy's stances on witchcraft, he was a devout Christian.
People always assumed Carannog the Calm was sleeping but he hardly ever slept during the waking hours. No, Carannog simply had a resting sleep face. When it looked as though he was dozing off into deep slumber, that's when Carannog was at his most observant. His mind racing away, making judgments, determinations, and figuring out who the people in front of him really were.
Suddenly, a haggard looking man came rushing in — his face smeared with dirt and shoes heavy with mud.
"Get me Gorm!" the man demanded as he sat down and slumped over the bar in obvious despair.
"Yes, sir. Right away." Carannog shot up from his seat. Only there was one problem. Carannog turned back to face the man. "Uh...Gorm who?"
Anger and rage flashed over the man's face, as his cheeks heated up a nice shade of crimson. "Listen, don't be a wise guy. Just get him!"
"All right. Yes, sir." Carannog scrambled over what to do. Mouffat was away at the tables and Godric was in the kitchen talking to Rowena, Salazar, and Helga. Those four had become quite close in the twenty-four hours they became acquainted. There was one person who may have known. He had become quite the barfly.
"Harry, do you know a Gorm?" Carannog was full of hope that this wide drunkard knew who he was.
Unfortunately, the red-faced Harry replied, "Gorm who?"
The angry, muddy man slapped his forehead in frustration.
"He hates that question!" Carannog informed Harry.
"Gorm, the landlord of this bar!" The muddy man yelled.
"Oh, I know who you mean," Waldo the Wise Guy interjected, twirling his moustache and taking a seat next to Harry. Waldo was known for all his trivial knowledge that nobody was sure was actually correct. For the past week he and Harry had made quite a pair.
"You do?" asked Carannog, ecstatic over the news. If his arthritic knees allowed his legs to jump for joy, he would have.
"Yeah, that was two landlords ago. Mouffat's the landlady here now,"
"I need to see him, you don't understand! I have a problem! Gorm was the man! I could go to him anytime and he'd know what to say! You got troubles, you take them to Gorm. He straightens you up just like that!" The man snapped his fingers and started muttering to himself about finding some sort of thief.
"Take it easy, will you?" Carannog replied. This man needed a shot of his calming draught.
"Uh, listen…" the man replied.
"No, you listen. I taught hundreds of students from all walks of life, some of them came from rough backgrounds with hardships you wouldn't believe! So my shoulders have been leaned on. My ear has learned to be sympathetic. If there's been a problem, I've heard of it."
The man started to light up and looked to Caranogg as the sage he had been hoping for.
Feeling as though he was on a roll, Carannog continued, "I've been a bartender for five days…"
The man started to grumble.
"Ok ok, why don't you give me a try?" Carranog asked, letting go of his pitch.
The man sighed in submission. "So, I was on the path to London. You see, I'm a potion salesman. I buy from suppliers and deliver all kinds of remedies and recreational and even security potions for potion masters who don't have the time to travel…this time I was traveling with my son, so he could learn the trade."
"Uh huh…" Carannog replied, instantly captivated by this man's story.
"Last week, my son suggested we travel separately to cover more ground before the Trials start. I was a bit fearful, since he's only a lad and these roads are treacherous with all kinds of bandits and creatures and such…"
"Uh huh…"
"But he reassures me that he was going to meet up with a friend he met during his studies abroad, so he'd be safe. It turns out his friend would be more of a danger to him because —" the man leans in even closer and in a near whisper, he continued, "— his friend turns out to be one of them Moors, with their own crazy magic and spells, you know? Black as night!"
"And your son's not?" Carannog asked, fully confident that he spotted the issue this pale but dirt-smeared man was facing.
However, the man's spirits simply dropped as he slumped into his stool and continued to mutter to himself again.
"Psst! Carannog!" Harry stage-whispered. "Go Get Gorm."
Carannog didn't understand what the matter was, but decided to concede. No use in trying to convince people to take your help if they didn't want it. "Listen, there are hundreds of people around the tavern, I'll have some people ask around."
The muttering man shot a look at Harry before turning back to Carannog. "Give me a scorching scotch."
After Carannog served the man his order, he downed it one gulp, burped some excess smoke, and made his way to the exit of the bar. "I'll be back later tonight, gotta take care of the problem."
What a nice guy, Carannog thought before returning to his trusty, worn Bible.
Waldo the courier didn't understand why people zoned out whenever he spoke. Didn't anybody else appreciate nuggets of facts? Even that supposedly smart witch from Scotland seemed unimpressed.
"Say, did you know that men have more sweat glands than women, but women's glands sweat more profusely?" Waldo said to Rowena.
"It's two nights before the most important event of wizardkind, and I'm here in the middle of a discussion about sweat," Rowena muttered under her breath before grabbing her tray of drinks to serve to a table whose patience, as far as Waldo could tell, was wearing thin with her.
Roddy the barback returned with two barrels full of beer.
Waldo licked his lips and imagined the cooling sensation that only beer could provide.
"Say," Waldo said, leaning in close to Roddy, "How about you pour Uncle Waldo some of that nice fresh brew, eh?"
"Well, Mister," Roddy replied. "Mr. Grynffindor said I wasn't allowed to serve any alcohol without him present behind the bar."
"Oh come man, just do it!" Waldo replied.
"Who is reading The Wonderful Wizardry from Wands?" asked a sandy-haired bearded man with the most pompous tone of voice Waldo had ever heard.
"Oh, it's the barmaid over there," Waldo responded, pointing to the Scottish barmaid, Rowena Ravenclaw. Waldo looked on as the man watched her with increasing curiosity.
This man looked cultured and educated. Surely, he'd be interested in some facts.
"Say, Professor!" Waldo called.
"I beg your pardon?" the man responded.
"Watch this, I bet he didn't know this for all of his schooling," Waldo told Harry, who was more concentrated on his third stein of beer.
The professor looked on, face scrunched up as if he was trying to figure Waldo out.
"Did you know that no number from 1 to 999 has the letter 'a' in its word form?"
"Yes," the professor responded cooly.
"No, you didn't," Waldo said, laughing the lying man off. "Nobody knows that."
"I can assure you, my good man, that I did know it."
"Pfft," Waldo responded while sipping his beer.
"I did know it, I did!" the professor replied, stomping his foot ready to throw a toddler-like tantrum.
"Sheesh, sorry," Waldo responded, taking another sip of beer.
The professor looked on, cheeks flushed red. He nervously fixed up his expensive wool robe and said, "Well, I accept your —"
"Sorry I knew something you didn't know," Waldo interrupted, downing his beer.
"Why you blob of beezlebub's brains! I'll have you know I am Professor Frederick Crane, expert in the subject of how the wizard's mind and emotions affect their ability to cast magic. You see, I massage the heads of wizards and from the lumps, I gather…"
Suddenly, a huge snoring sound came from Waldo's left where Harry sat, and here came Mouffat with a tray of empty mugs to fill up.
"That's just a goblet of giblet gibberish," Mouffat replied as she filled some glasses with ale.
The man quietly shook in anger, clutching tightly to the book he had just inquired about.
"I assure you," Frederick said after taking deep breaths to control his rage. "It is not giblet gibberish. I am a decorated Professor of some renown."
"Oh yeah?" Mouffat asked in an appeasing tone.
"That's right," Frederick continued, "I occupy a chair at the School of Christian Wizards, the most prestigious school in the Holy Roman Empire."
"Ah, don't feel bad," Roddy interjected with a simple smile. "Occupying a chair is all I did when I went to school."
Frederick Crane responded by smacking the thick copy of The Wonderful Wizardry from Wands against his forehead — hard.
"What are you doing with my book?" Rowena asked, returning to the bar.
"Oh, you're reading this book, are you?" Frederick asked.
"Yes, I am," responded Rowena, looking at the man curiously.
"I suppose you're here for the Trials?" Professor Frederick Crane asked Rowena, raising an eyebrow.
"That's none of your business," Rowena answered before exchanging a look with Godric the Great.
Hoo Boy! Waldo thought. There might be another showdown!
"My apologies for asking. I forgot my manners at home it seems. This tavern has a way of turning you into a barbarian."
Waldo expected Rowena to reply harshly and defend this bar and its patrons, but all he heard was her agreeing with Frederick while exclaiming she knew more about that than anyone else.
Hmmph!
"Hey Rowena," Waldo interrupted.
Rowena looked towards Waldo and waited for what he was about to say.
"Did you know the female brain is only one-fourth the size of the males?" Waldo asked.
Rowena simply laughed and said, "A little bit of knowledge really is dangerous, and you're a cauldron ready to burst at any moment."
Waldo laughed at the girl's moxie as she walked back to the tables.
"I guess you're here for the trials too?" Professor Crane asked Waldo. "With all those factoids you have memorized?"
"Why, thank you, I do know a lot of facts!" Waldo exclaimed.
Frederick rolled his eyes and mumbled something about not knowing the definition of "factoid" under his breath. Waldo assumed the man was merely frustrated that, once again, Waldo the Wisenheimer had shown this man up.
After taking in a calming breath, Professor Crane responded, "You think you can win the Trials with just that, do you?" Professor Crane looked to Waldo attentively, smirking his evil smile.
"Nah, I'm not here for the trials; I'm just here every day." Waldo chugged the rest of his beer and wiped the foam from his mustache.
Professor Crane returned a look of horror before studying Rowena's book carefully.
Godric looked on as Rowena gave yet another table an oration of her life and values, just in case they thought she was merely a barmaid.
"And you see, I know it's surprising to find someone like me here, waiting on tables. But then I thought!" Rowena exclaimed, fists raised, as if she was about to lead a band of misfits into battle. "I am a student of magic, no, not just magic but of mages and of life! What better way to understand your fellow magicked person than at a tavern where they all gather together, all of us awaiting our turn to be extraordinary by showing our stuff at the Trials...yes this place provided me with the perfect opportunity to…"
Before Rowena could finish, Godric, observing the zoned out, exhausted faces sitting at her table, grabbed hold of her shoulders.
"I'm sorry everyone, Rowena, some people want you at the other table," Godric stated to her.
"Oh! Who does?" Rowena beamed as she quickly turned her attention to different directions looking for the table who needed her.
"Everyone at this table," Godric replied before apologizing to the table and pulling an insulted Rowena back to the bar.
Rowena's scowl was harsh, and he prepared himself for a diatribe from her. He had almost gotten used to it by now.
"Godric, may I have a word with you?"
"Just one word? I doubt you could," Godric replied, smirking, lovingly riling this girl up.
"You know what I mean!" Rowena began to whine. By now, Godric surmised that she was used to whining her way to anything.
"Listen, it ain't personal, but you were boring those people half-to-death."
"Well, I thought I could converse with my fellow wizard. Afterall, the Trials and Festival is attracting the most brilliant wizards of Britannia and the continent, am I right?"
"Yes, but once they step in here, all they want to do is eat, drink, swear like sailors, scratch their bums, burp, play some parlor games," Godric said, pausing as he caught a glimpse of a harlot massaging a customer's neck, "and have a bit of fun."
Rowena sighed as she slouched her way to the other, emptier end of the bar, ignoring calls from nearby customers to take their order.
"Uh, one second," Godric told the men before following her.
"Oh Godric, I thought this was the opportunity to finally meet my people. People I can converse with about poetry, mythology, and symbolic devices in our art and music along with discussing the future of magic."
Godric looked around a bar and caught some men slumping over after too many drinks, some men ready to curse each other with their magical instruments in a dispute over some board game involving vampires and mummies, some men vomiting all over the floor, and one urinating in the bushes by the tavern's exit .
"What gave yer that idea?" Godric asked, wondering exactly what kind of life Rowena had led thus far.
Rowena sighed, and looked forlornly at her book laid where she last sat. As she slid her fingers against the spine, Godric eyed the older bearded man sitting at the adjacent stool paying close attention to her, ready to knock his brains out if he tried anything. He couldn't help but refocus on Rowena's solemn face.
"I guess it's a long way home, eh?" Godric offered.
"You can say that. I was lonely back home, but at least I had my grandfather's extensive library and fantasies of conversing with imaginary people to give me comfort."
"Sounds like you had a comfortable life there."
"I guess you could say that…"
"Then why would you ever leave for a life of discomfort and ill-behaved miscreants and vagrants?"
"Well, you wouldn't understand. There was a lot going on that I had to get away from."
"Why don't you try me. Maybe I will understand."
"Well, alright. First off, I didn't imagine everyone was like this, and I want to make my own way in the world. Secondly, I didn't want to be like so many women I grew up with, just being handed coin on a platter from my father and then being handed coin by my husband if he felt generous enough to do so."
Suddenly, a grumpy patron walked by and flicked a piece of coin onto Rowena's coin plate and grumbled a "thank you" for her service.
"Yay!" Rowena squealed, face lighting up.
Godric smiled at the sight of her beaming face. He waited for her to continue her reasons for leaving but Mouffat called him over to fetch more barrels of ale from the underground cellar.
Rowena watched as Godric made his way down to the cellar. Despite his need to goad her with a monstrous amount of juvenile gaiety, there was something noble and appealing about this man. Maybe it was how he was unapologetically simple and rugged. He had brains and knew how to use it, but it was clear that he learned to rely more on his brawn and pure instinct his whole life. It showed in the way he presented and conducted himself. She had no idea she could be drawn to such a person.
"Oh!" Harold cried out from the opposite end of the bar.
"What's the matter, Harry?" asked Carannog.
"Somebody, pinch me!" Harold shouted. "I got to be hallucinating!"
Rowena turned her attention towards Harold to see what he was going on about.
"What?!" Asked Waldo.
"I just saw the most magnificent, most beautiful looking woman through the window!" Harold announced to nearly everyone near the bar.
Rowena turned towards the entrance where Harold's eyes were directed. The door was ajar, exposing one leg through the crack. The person attached to the leg must have been stopped by an outside patron as her leg stayed in its current position.
"Look at that leg!" Harold drooled. "If that leg is attached to anything, even a troll, I'm going to marry itd."
Harold slowly maneuvered his way towards the entrance, stalking this naked lady's leg.
"Oh, please come inside!" Harold begged whomever.
This sickly display of lust from Harold and a few other male onlookers turned Rowena's stomach. Maybe men weren't so great after all.
"She's coming inside!" Harold shouted. "All right, everybody. Just act natural." Harold sure ran fast for someone so large, Rowena thought, as she watched him rush his way back to his seat and tried his best to act "natural" by whistling and pretending to be in the middle of a conversation with Waldo by stating words like "carrots, peas, rhubarb" to him.
Rowena wondered what kind of attire this lady must be wearing to have such an exposed leg. It was the most unusual sight. No wonder all these men were in a tizzy.
"Whoa Morgana!" one man shouted. The mystery lady must now be in full view for all to see.
"I don't believe this," Rowena said, addressing all those salivating at the mystery woman, her back turned to the entrance. "Come on, men...In this day and age, aren't we all here for the Trials and Festival? Aren't we supposed to be the most learned wizards and mages of our time? Aren't we a little beyond ogling a perfectly normal woman?"
Rowena looked around the men at the bar, but nobody was listening to her and their tongues were stuck too far out for them to answer her anyway. Finally, Rowena turned back towards the entrance to see what all the fuss was about.
"Wowza!" Rowena responded as she saw what had to be one of the most gorgeous women she had ever laid eyes on with her perfect complexion, wide hips, tiny waist, ample bottom, and lustrous blonde hair. She had no idea women's breasts could be so large and yet be so perky. And her legs went on for days. Turns out adding a slight slit to one's skirt was quite attractive, and made Rowena wish her robe did such a thing. Rowena surmised that the woman was the kind that was built for men like these barflies.
"Harry, is that the one?" Carannog asked, unsure if this was the woman the men were lusting after.
"Hi," the new woman said in a melodic voice that mimicked what Rowena imagined a woman's mating call would sound like, if they had one, before taking a seat at the bar.
She certainly didn't dress like one of the ladies of the night. Somehow she exuded an image of availability but not ease. Someone who couldn't be bought off with simple coin.
"Excuse me, miss…" said Mouffat, interrupting the enchanted silence. She turned to the lady and then pointed at the small crowd of men ogling after this woman. "The gentleman at the other end of the bar would like to buy you a castle." Mouffat then let out one of those obnoxious signature guffaws. The woman flashed her pearly white teeth and batted her eye-lashes at the men.
"May I help you?" Carannog asked, seemingly unfazed by this woman's spell.
"Uh, white wine, please," the woman responded.
Rowena wondered if this woman's voice could get any squeakier.
Carannog rose up from his seat and started to pour wine into a chalice for her.
As Rowena made her way to the opposite end of the bar, no longer hearing the conversation between this new vixen and Carannog, she overheard Mouffat say, "Don't get your hopes up, boys. Soon as Godric comes out here, it's dinner for two in his room."
"Oh, come on!" Rowena instantly shouted, surprising herself. In an intentionally calmer tone, Rowena continued, "I hardly think that's the sort of woman that would appeal to Godric."
"She may not be flashy enough for Godric," Mouffat responded, laughing with the rest of the boys.
"They had Godric in mind when they built her," one red-faced, inebriated man said.
"Really?" Rowena said, not hiding the skepticism from her face. "I don't buy that." Rowena said. As she prepared her pitch of persuasion, the crowd near her began to moan. Rowena rolled her eyes before continuing, "Now, I know I've only made Gordic's acquaintance here for a short time, but seems to me he has more depth than that."
"Follow me." Mouffat led Rowena to the landing of the cellar staircase where three barrels were recently placed.
"Gordic, would you come out here for a second?" Mouffat asked.
"Mrs. Mouffat, I'm trying me hardest to carry these five barrels up these stairs. I only got two more, so don't disturb me while I work…" Godric said, carrying a giant barrel of liquor on his back as three more levitated behind him. He heaved up the staircase, sweat flowing down his temples. Rowena couldn't help but look on in awe at such a display of virility.
Mouffat then pointed the new woman out at the bar. Godric turned and nearly slammed the barrel down with no care where it landed.
"Unless there's a customer," Godric continued.
Rowena watched aghast as Godric sped his way towards the bar area, jumped over the bar despite having a perfectly good opening to enter through, and grabbed ahold of that horrid woman's cup.
"No, no, no, no." Godric said, offering her a slick smile. She actually smiled back. "Don't drink that. I've got something much better."
Godric scrambled to find something among the wine bottles to offer this woman. She giggled and her entire demeanor transitioned from "welcoming but you have to work for it" to "he worked for it."
"Huzzah!" Godric shouted. "I think you're going to like this." He then poured plenty of expensive French red wine into a much cleaner goblet.
"It's, uh, an amusing little wine." Of course, Rowena thought, the woman would punctuate that with a stupid little giggle.
"You like to laugh?" Godric asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively.
"I love to laugh," the woman giggled.
Rowena observed how every other man looked to Godric in awe at this exchange and suppressed a loud guffaw of her own. The male species were certainly a sight to see.
"You think there's a chance that you and I could go somewhere, and laugh together?" Godric said.
"My mother told me to watch out for guys in taverns." The woman leaned forward and showed off her ample bosom. Rowena just noticed how low cut her robe was. She had no idea they made robes that way.
"Well then let's get out of this bar," Godric said, placing his hand onto hers and caressing it.
"Oh, and what will we do?" the woman asked with a devilish smirk of her own, flapping her long eyelashes. "I like a little entertainment to go with my men."
"Oh I can entertain you, my lady. I have stories you've never even dreamed of!" Godric began to boast, chest growing wider and standing a head taller.
"Mmm." The woman licked her luxurious red wine-soaked lips.
"I can tell you a story...set in France and I had to fight a group of warrior Amazonian women. What they did with their tongues, in the end I tamed them all and had them clamoring for more."
Rowena mocked along, sticking a finger down her throat to imitate gagging out of disgust.
Just for a moment, Godric turned towards Rowena in response to her giggling. She instinctively back up a few paces back upon seeing the sheer darkness that covered his face. When he turned back towards the woman, Rowena saw how he plastered that inviting smile and how he gazed at the woman with warm eyes. How quickly he was able to switch.
"No. No French stories, I can't understand French." The woman's face pinched up. Godric squinted at the woman in confusion, as he clearly was going to tell the story in English.
Despite fearing his wrath, Rowena couldn't hold it in any longer. A loud boisterous guffaw left her lips. She was not sorry for it either.
"Uh, will you excuse me just for a minute?" Godric asked the woman, who gave a mere nod.
Godric made his way out from behind the bar, and marched towards Rowena.
"Rowena, can I talk to you in the back room, please?" Godric hissed.
"Sure." Rowena shrugged her shoulders and made herself ready for whatever tirade Godric was preparing for her.
"I'll be right back," Godric said to the woman before asking, "What's your name?"
"Mary." The woman continued to sip her wine.
"Oh. that's a nice name."
"With two "e"s", Maree clarified.
Rowena guffawed even louder than before.
Before making their way to the back, Rowena overheard Carannog ask Maree about the "E"s and went to reference his Bible stating how God's been spelling it wrong this whole time.
With a heavy gust, Godric grabbed ahold of Rowena and flew to the back room. The way Godric was able to maneuver around stumbling patrons and tables impressed Rowena even though she prepared herself for quite a talking to. Once they reached the back room, there were a few patrons were having conversations amongst themselves while two were playing Pixie Darts, a horrid game where they threw two live pixies into a dart board. The pixies never seemed hurt by the game, but they sure did scream in absolute horror every time they were thrown.
"O.k., what was that all about?" Godric asked, seemingly ready to tear a new one into Rowena. His face grew a familiar red that Rowena had been used to by now since it seemed she somehow always made him frustrated or angry.
"What?" Rowena asked. She knew she was playing dumb, but this was fun.
"All that laughing!" Godric let out a sigh and raised his arms as if it had been obvious.
"Oh that. Well you see… 'I love to laugh'." Rowena hoped she mimicked the womans' voice well.
"Rowena, can we have a couple beers here?" One man said, before throwing a pixie onto the dart board.
"Oh, coming right up," Rowena responded.
"Oh, now you remember you're a barmaid!" Godric exclaimed. He then turned to the impatient man who had ordered the beer and was readying himself to repeat his order. "Not right now!" Godric growled at the man.
The man shrugged, knowing well enough not to fight back with Godric the Great.
Upon observation, Rowena realized Godric was not kidding around. His face was full of outrage with a tinge of pain. Maybe she had gone too far. "Oh, Godric, I didn't mean anything by it," Rowena began sweetly. Twirling her hair, she added, "I laughed." Godric's face unchanged, Rowena sighed. Boy, he was getting intimidating. Maybe he didn't understand her the first time. "Life is funny," Rowena clarified.
"Correct me if I'm wrong," Godric said slowly, as if he was swallowing his anger, "but I get the impression that you don't approve of Maree."
"Uh, is that the Virgin Mary with a "y" or the one at the bar with two "E"s?" Rowena's smirk grew wide as she suppressed another laugh.
"You know, you may think I'm just the dim duelist and adventurer who may not be well-read or educated the way you were, but you seem to have forgotten that you weren't hired here as a critic, but as a waitress."
"You'd never know it by me," the patron playing Pixie darts responded.
"Yeah," his partner added, "can we get two mugs of beer - with two 'e's?"
Rowena let out a chuckle that she shared with the other two men. That was pretty clever. However, the look on Godric's face was no laughing matter. Ok, it was time to stop laughing at his expense.
"Ok, Godric, I'm sorry." Rowena laid her hand on his shoulder. Godric flinched and shrugged it away. Rowena sighed and continued, "I really am."
"No, you're not," Godric muttered.
"Yes, I am!" Rowena responded, her irritation rising as he wouldn't accept an apology she felt she did not have to offer.
After a few beats, Godric asked, "Why don't you just be honest with me?" His back slouched and shoulders slumped.
"I am being honest," Rowena responded, her posture stiffened as she grew upright, no longer as relaxed.
"Then admit you think Maree's dumb."
"I don't think anything of the kind." Despite her state, Rowena was unsure on where she actually stood on that.
"Oh, come on, she's a tree stump!" Godric yelled, throwing up his hands. "A wand with no magic, a crystal ball with no fortune, a staff made of hollow wood!" Energy miraculously returned to Godric as he started animatedly pacing back and forth. "To you, Maree's just a one-night woman, built for cheap laughs, wild times, and easy sex."
"Where? Where?" All the men in the backroom began to say, prompting Rowena to roll her eyes again. She had rolled her eyes so many times since she stepped foot at this tavern, she was afraid they'd be forever stuck there.
"Will you just admit it? Come on." Godric appealed to Rowena.
"Godric, now just you wait a minute." Rowena placed both of her hands on Godric's arms to stop his pacing and sat him down on a wooden crate in the corner. "Now, I don't mean to criticize. In a way, I was complimenting you. I think you can do better." Surely, he'd be happy to hear such a thing.
"I don't want to do better!" Godric exclaimed, standing straight. Towering over her, he leaned in closer. "You see, Rowena, there are certain things in this life that I really like. And nobody's going to change my mind about them. You see, I like big brawls, cold brew, and fun women, and I don't care what anybody says about them."
"Okay," Rowena said, slightly slumping. She truly thought there was promise in this Godric. But it turns out he was just an ordinary man. How disappointing.
"I'll tell you one more thing I like," Godric added, "I like Maree!"
Of course even Godric the Great would go for someone like Maree. What man wouldn't? She shook her head. Then a flicker of a flame of inquisitiveness sparked and then enflamed to the point where she felt compelled to ask.
"Godric, one question, you say you like 'easy' women, but how many types of women have you ever been with?"
"What do you mean? Of course, I have had all sorts of women. With the number I've been with I sure should have." Godric stated, his face puzzled.
"Well, how many women?" This time, it was Rowena who leaned in close with Godric taking a few steps back. Rowena had to know!
Godric started doing the arithmetic in his head and his fingers. Suddenly he came to the answer as indicated by the way he gulped. He then whispered a number.
"What was that?" Rowena not quite catching.
"Let's just say a lot, okay!"
"Well, it's fine if you're not going to have more discriminating tastes, but don't get mad at the rest of us if some of us are more...selective." Rowena pulled her facing her towering opponent.
"The rest of us? Look there!" Godric pointed out how all the men in the backroom were no longer there but out at the bar to gawk at Maree.
Rowena rolled her eyes. "Maybe not here, but elsewhere! Where there are men of more distinguished tastes!"
"How would you know? You've been stuck in a castle in Scotland while I've been all over the world, honey, and let me tell you, men are men! They're just like me, so you better grow accustomed to it!"
"No, I won't, Godric Gryffindor!"
Godric seemed taken aback by hearing his full name said in such an admonishing way.
"I know I'm in the minority. I know the whole world is full of slovenly slobs who want nothing more than a wham bam thank you madame! They like their cheap ales, cheap meats, and dirty tavern seats." Rowena's statement was punctuated by the sounds of cheering men singing some song about the amount of beer on the wall. Shaking it off, Rowena continued, "However, I know there's a whole world out there of people yearning and wanting more. What they lust after isn't carnal but something closer to the heavens of knowledge and class!"
"Wow, that was a nice speech," Godric said, offering mock applause which Rowena pretended to take as real. "You know what?"
"What?" Rowena readied herself for another verbal assault from this neanderthal.
"You're a snob!" Godric nodded his head, crossed his arms, and had the stupid look of satisfaction upon his face with that stupid brilliant smile of us.
"No, I'm not!" Rowena pointed straight at Godric.
"Yes, you are!" Godric pointed back.
"Well, excuse me if I want something better for myself than what this stupid life has to offer, and excuse me for thinking the same of you!"
Their faces were close and Rowena could feel Godric's warm breath upon her face. She suddenly felt warm herself. She quickly turned away and rubbed her face, walking a few steps away from Godric.
"Well, I guess you were wrong then," Godric responded, his voice growing distant.
"About?" Rowena looked onto Godric thinking she was on the verge of something, but she had no idea what.
Godric backed away, no longer using his size to tower over Rowena. "About thinking I'd want something better."
Rowena slumped on an empty wooden crate and replied, "Oh, yes, I suppose so."
"I mean, life is great for me right now. I go on adventures, win a few spoils from victory, I'm known throughout the land, and the women and menfolk all adore me." Godric's chin raised and his eyes narrowed at her, as if challenging her.
"Yes, I guess you have it made," Rowena replied, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.
Suddenly, Rowena saw Godric quietly shake with rage. It was subtle but it was there. She knew he wanted to get a rise out of her, but she would not give him the satisfaction. Her soul leapt for joy when she saw she was getting a rise out of him.
"What do you mean by that?" Godric asked, attempting to sound calm and collected.
"Mean by what?" Rowena responded in the most sing-songy aloof voice she could muster..
The bang of Godric's fists slamming on a table thudded all over the back room. "Good God! You are maddening!"
"How so?" Rowena asked, with a wry smile, not daring to look Godric's way for fear she'd break from this cool character she had just created.
"You made it sound like something dirty!" Godric then stomped his way back towards Rowena and crouched down to ensure they were eye level. Whatever strategy he was using now, it was something Rowena was not prepared for. Feeling his gaze and warm breath so close to her face again was starting to become too much.
"Made what sound dirty?" Rowena managed to cough in response.
Refusing to break his gaze on her, he continued. "The things I got! Fame, women, adoration…"
"Because those things are fleeting! They're not real nor things of true substance!"
Rowena suddenly shot up, wanting to break away from his gaze and control, but also because she had enough of explaining what was so simple. It is clear this man was dissatisfied with his life and was just living from thrill to thrill because he himself did not think he had a future to worry about or plan for.
"Oh yeah?" Godric rose from his crouching position, crossed his arms and waited for her to explain herself.
"Yeah!" was all Rowena wanted to offer.
Rowena saw Godric's brows furrow and his face angled towards the floor. She knew what this meant. He was thinking. She readied herself for what he was going to throw at her now.
"You ever fought two cyclops throwing beams of energy at you?"
Rowena shook her head. What was this man getting at?
"How about sirens whose calls are irresistible?"
"No."
"A quick and agile werewolf whose jaws can crack any bone?"
Rowena just shook her head and continued to shake her head at every example Godric threw at her.
"A vampire who could turn the most manly of men into whimpering simpletons craving for his touch? A mummy? A zombie? A troll? A giant?"
"No!" Rowena exclaimed. He knows full well I have done nothing of the sort!
Rowena watched as Godric's right eyebrow raised. "Or how about the worst monster of them all? Your fellow man - in a battlefield, where you hear nothing but screams of rage and screams of agony and pain as your fellow man is stricken with pain. I can go on."
Rowena would not dignify that with an answer. Rowena's face grew dark and a sense of shame enveloped her as he hit her exactly where he knew would hurt the most. She had no adventures or real life experiences to her name. Just what she read. However, that did not mean she did not know real pain or suffering or less. Just what does this man think he is to judge her so harshly. She could not even bear to look his way.
A few silent moments passed between them but it felt like the world had shifted in these moments.
Godric coughed, finally breaking the silence. In a more rueful tone, he said, "I'm not telling you to respect me, but it takes might of the fist, might of the wand, and yes, might of the brain! So, if I want to enjoy the rewards I get from these things, then I will!"
After a few beats, Rowena continued, "But are you happy?" She needed to know. Can one just be happy with such material things?
"What?"
"Are you fulfilled? Or are those adventures just filling in some sort of emptiness you have when you're not out there putting yourself in heaps of needless danger?"
"I...well…" Godric's chin angled down, and he seemed deep in thought.
After waiting a few beats, Rowena grew impatient, and just wanted him to admit she had had a point, like a wand. "Well?"
Godric stomped his foot violently on the floorboard beneath him, causing the Earth to shake for a mere moment. "Oh you just get into my head and confuse things!"
"Then, I'm right! Inside of you there's something screaming for something more! Simpletons don't describe your adventures the way you just did. The way you spoke about the screams of agony and pain and how you need the might of your brain; there's something deep about you! I knew it! Stop denying that part of yourself!" Rowena clapped her hands in celebration and smiled widely.
Rowena was nearly bouncing off of the walls. She knew it! There was substance to this man! She was far too engrossed in her feelings of excitement that Godric Gryffidor may be a deep well to ask herself why exactly did she care so much.
"That's enough!" Godric roared.
Before Rowena could continue, Godric interrupted her.
"You stop with your silly frilly ideas of me alright! I'm a duelist for hire! I go out and find ways to try to get myself killed not because I need something I'm yearning for, but because I ain't good for nothing else and I enjoy nothing else more! So you just come to terms with that and live with your disappointment in me! Got it?!"
"Sure…" Rowena responded melodically. Somewhere deep down, Rowena knew they'd be continuing this conversation sometime soon.
"And in case you think we're talking about this some more! Let me tell you how much I love fleeting and shallow things!" Godric offered a devilish smirk and readied himself to say something Rowena felt he thought would sting her.
"Ok, tell me!" Rowena felt she was giving him a huge self-satisfied smirk back, but she no longer cared. She felt like she had just struck gold.
"I've slept with hundreds of women! All different types, all talking gibberish! And I haven't changed so don't you get some grand ideas that you will be the one to do so!"
Rowena offered a wide smile as the minstrel's new song playing in the barroom inspired her to bounce a little to the beat. "Okay, Godric, whatever you say."
"Did you hear me?" Gordic repeated.
"Loud and clear," Rowena responded, grabbing some empty mugs from the back room.
"Yeah you heard me. Let me repeat myself so you get it through that thick skull of yours. With no regrets or second thoughts to them, I've slept with hundreds of women! Easy!" Godric finished that sentence with panache and a self-satisfied smile, as if he felt he just claimed the greatest victory of all. Rowena was not impressed.
"Easy?" Rowena repeated. Godric returned with a nod and a toothy grin. "Well, they'd have to be!" Rowena replied before walking out of the back room with an armful of empty mugs.
From the looks of it, once Rowena stole a glance back to him, it seemed as though Godric had a sudden urge to pull his hair out.
A/N:
This is the first part of a two-part chapter arc where our favorite founders get to "relax" in their roles as working class wizards before they set off to the Festival and Trials. This one focused on Godric and Rowena. The next part, we'll see what life has in store for Salazar and Helga. Hope you all enjoy this chapter.
I always wanted to write an episode of Cheers, and I realized, subconsciously, I set our Founders up to be in Cheers. Many of the zingers are nods and references to actual jokes in the show, but I hope I repurposed them and adapted many of them in a way you all enjoyed and can see happening in this world. This will be the only chapter where I've borrowed so heavily from the works of another.