A/N: Bit of a short one, the coming chapters will be heavy on landscape scenery and travel. Can anyone guess who the ranger is? It's not Aragorn, book readers should know. I'll give you a hint: his name starts with an 'H'.
Timeline: Approximately three weeks pass in this chapter. Kagome departed from Bree on February 19th 3017, she began her journey along the East Road on the same day.
Chapter IV - A Ranger of the North
In the days that followed, Kagome continued working at the Horse Inn. Adjusting was...difficult, the people here were rough and smelly, unhygienic and primitive. She was no stranger to hard labor, having worked long, arduous days in the rice fields near Kaede's village but the people here bathed rarely, if at all. Butterbur had put her in charge of the majority of the cleaning, which included laundry as well. It wasn't easy to work but it kept her busy so she could ignore the uneasiness at the back of her mind.
She managed to ask Butterbur to draw her a crude map on her first week working, after much struggling on her end, and he pointed her in the direction of the mayor's house. The town had to have some kind of leader and knowing Butterbur had no answers for her, Kagome had to keep searching for someone who did.
Unfortunately, the mayor had no answers for her either and even thought she was quite strange if the odd look he kept giving her was any indication. He didn't understand a word she was saying and even the little bit of Westron she knew couldn't help explain herself. He didn't know Japan or America and any other country she listed off the top of her head. She went back to the Horse Inn disappointed and dejected.
Quite reluctantly, she went back to work. It took some explaining on her end to Butterbur, in which they played charades again and continued to not know what the other was saying. In the end, he gave up and let her work. He seemed miffed by it, constantly avoiding eye contact with her but Kagome loathed to be left alone with her thoughts, afraid she'd have to admit the inevitable of her situation.
Later, the activity in the inn died down till only a few remained, talking quietly amongst themselves or just enjoying the silent ambient. The hearth crackled and Nob stoked the fire to keep the room warm as he wiped tables and grabbed dishes. Butterbur didn't allow her in the front and she knew why; there were too many men who streamed in and out of the inn. It became much more apparent than when the inn got busy and people continued drinking, things could get rowdy.
There was a small group of men, dressed in dark clothing with haggard appearances and ill-favored looks on their faces. Kagome got a bad feeling from them and a strange dark aura surrounded one of them, the one that sat in the center of them. His hair was matted down and fell down his long face loosely. When she caught his eye, he squinted at her over the brim of his mug with a deep frown. A feeling of unease washed over her and she shuddered, swallowing thickly.
Kagome didn't want to be here, where his eyes followed her constantly, and was thankful when Butterbur waved her over.
While she was no stranger to the shady misgivings of others, knowing full well that there were unsavory people who existed but to be reminded of it sent an uneasy shiver down her spine. Demons were one thing, but she forgot how humans could be. Vile, corrupted, and manipulative. Kagome pondered on it but wisely didn't voice her complaints out loud. Not that anyone could understand anyway. To distract herself, she went out back with the dishes Butterbur had handed her.
He smiled at her but it was tight-lipped and strained. She gave up the charades act with Butterbur after her fourth or fifth attempt at asking him where she was. Every time she made a go of it, he just got more and more flustered and red in the face. It was a trying time for her and she felt it keenly in her bones. To save them both the trouble, she stuck to one-word answers and questions.
Nob added to her tray full of dirty dishes and she took it tiredly, carrying it out. For the time being, she pushed her worries to the back of her mind and used work to distract herself.
It wasn't too late to give up hope; someone here in this place had to know something. She reminded herself of this fact, but it didn't ease the seeds of doubt from trickling in.
One of the cooks, Wyman, came out back and she supposed the activity in the inn must've died down if he was out here. He set a small stool down next to her and lit his pipe, taking long drags from it. She wrinkled her nose at the smell but otherwise said nothing. A couple of times he took the clean dishes and wiped them down and they worked in tandem with the setting sun.
The next day, the man with the squint-eye and dark glower came back to the inn again. He was alone this time but he sat at the bar and stared at her as she brought dishes in from the back.
She frowned, a tick in her jaw as she struggled not to tell him off for staring. He certainly wasn't making it a secret and more than once, Butterbur tried to distract him as he looked at the man uneasily.
Was it important for Butterbur to act that way? As if angering him or actually telling him to shove off was a bad thing? Wisely, she kept quiet but she made a show of scowling at him or sticking her tongue at him behind his back. It was childish but she wasn't willing to jeopardize Butterbur's business any more than necessary. Plus, he often came with his "friends" and one versus five wasn't a fair fight.
Kagome remembered his face, though.
"Nasty sort, that man. You'd do well to stay away from him." Wyman muttered to her as he smoked his pipe.
She frowned, confused. "No good man?"
Wyman shook his head. "He's very powerful around these parts. The mayor thinks he's a saint but he ain't nothing but a queer sort. Worse than those rangers that go through here and we don't need their kind here either."
The way he said it and the expression on his face made her think what he was saying was negative. She understood 'mayor' and vaguely recognized the negative form in his sentence. It felt like a warning but her grasp of Westron wasn't so good that she could quite keep up with full-on conversations. She nodded her head anyway and followed him through the kitchen, away from any wandering gaze.
A foreboding feeling settled like a weight inside her and the longer she lingered on the feeling, the less safe she felt in this place.
She helped Nob wipe down the tables as the last of the customers went; a resounding knock at the door halted their movements. Butterbur frowned but he swept across the threshold and pulled the door open. A strange man stood there, cloaked and hooded. A silver brooch, like a pointed star, held his cloak together but otherwise, the rest of him was nondescript. His face was cast in shadow but he had a scruffy beard growing and an impressively long blade at his waist.
Outside, it was raining and even from her standpoint, she could feel the tendrils of cold air attack her like blades of ice. The man was clearly soaked and looking for shelter but Butterbur made no move to let him in until a bag was placed in his hands. He called Nob over as the stranger came in and pulled his hood down.
In the dim light, the stranger was much taller than he appeared. She suppose he could be considered handsome if he cleaned up but she cast the thought away as he moved into the inn. His steps were careful and measured, he held himself much differently than most men that came through these parts. He towered over Butterbur and the rest of them; he could easily be six feet or taller. His hair was dark and it hung around his face in tangles.
She heard a sharp curse behind her and Wyman stood there, a pipe in hand.
"Damned Rangers, can't get a moment's peace. 'Tis trouble when Bill Ferney and his men come through but a ranger? Barliman is too soft a sort." Wyman shook his head and muttered under his breath before he quickly made his way to the back.
She was curious what had him so annoyed and bothered but couldn't outright voice her concerns when she could barely understand him. It was near closing time and only one other customer still lingered. Butterbur sat the stranger at a table near the hearth, where it still crackled warmly. Nob swept towards the kitchens, probably to get a plate of food for their late-night guest.
The stranger was quiet and said nothing of the apprehensive look Butterbur shot him as he sat a mug of ale on the table. The only other occupant in the room glanced in his direction and immediately vacated the inn. His face was haggard and he stumbled along to the door in his haste but it was clear even he didn't want to be around their mysterious guest.
Kagome frowned, wondering why so many were so quick to judge. Looks could be deceiving but there was a faint glow that surrounded him, almost like a light. It wasn't very noticeable but it was there; she could tell he wasn't at all bad. Still, Kagome was apprehensive as she cleaned the rest of the tables while the stranger sipped at his mug and stared mindlessly into the crackling flames.
A little later, Nob came back from the kitchen, a little worse for wear carrying a tray of food. He appeared a bit frightened as he set a plate down full of bread and a hot broth of something. If their guest noticed, he certainly didn't say. Or maybe this was just a common occurrence for him that he ignored it. Either way, he ate in silence while they cleaned, and when he was done, he stood and made his way out without another word.
The next couple of days passed in a blur and on the eve of her third week at the Horse Inn, Butterbur approached her nervously, wringing his hands.
By this point, Kagome could vaguely understand people as long as they spoke slowly. And stuck to short sentences. She could sort of make out what people were saying by paying close attention to their expressions and one look at Butterbur told her that whatever he had to say wasn't good.
Kagome paused in her cleaning, looking up at Butterbur curiously. While it wasn't busy at the inn today, she found it odd that he left the counter so suddenly. Butterbur looked behind him once or twice, at the table with the squinted-eyed man and his men. A sinking feeling settled at the pit of her stomach. She felt uneasy, like blades of ice were piercing her.
She set the rag down on the table and gulped nervously as Butterbur motioned her through the back, away from prying eyes.
Wyman poked his head out from the kitchen upon seeing them and looked at her sadly, shaking his head. She frowned, wondering why he looked that way at her but Butterbur was waiting for her at the end of the hall already so she hurried along.
Outside in the back, where the rolling hills and evening sun greeted her, Butterbur was wringing his hands nervously. His red face was more pronounced in this light and there was a sheen of sweat above his brow as he motioned her near.
"Wrong?" She said tentatively, frowning.
The evening air felt hot on her skin as she wiped her hands on her apron, staring up into Butterbur's aging face lined with fatigue. He appeared a little worse for wear and sad almost, as his shoulders slumped.
"Yes, 'Tis very wrong indeed." He said to her, but she could only catch the 'yes' in his sentence as he replied softly. His normally red cheeks seemed pale in the amber light, but she caught the audible gulp he took as he opened his mouth to speak.
Butterbur seemed to have trouble finding the right words, or maybe he couldn't remember. It wasn't strange for him to go into deep thought suddenly, he had a habit of rubbing his head like a nervous tick. Wringing his hands was a dead giveaway but she waited patiently until the soft neigh of the horses nearby caught her attention. She stood straighter as Bob came through the small gate into the back area, surprised to see them there but it seemed to cut the silence as Butterbur gestured her over.
In the horse pin - because the original word for it was lost on her, Bob brought a tired-looking horse towards them and she spied her belongings secured to the saddle. It was a dark-colored horse, with long, sweeping hair that covered its muzzle and part of a scarred eye. It wasn't particularly large to be a warhorse but she could tell the horse had weathered a hard life.
A sudden realization struck her as Butterbur handed her a thick cloak, frayed at the edges and a bit musty like the previous owner hardly washed it. Ah, so it's come to this then, she thought. Was she being fired? Kagome took it with a sigh, a sort of finality settling in as her proprietor stared at her sadly.
"I...go now?" She asked quietly, gesturing to the horse.
Butterbur nodded and Bob was equally silent as he readied her steed. Kagome's shoulders slumped and though she felt the sting of hurt she couldn't begrudge the man for whatever reason. She knew this moment of hospitality wouldn't last but somehow, it felt harder to face the world beyond on her own. In the past, the Inutaichi's company had been a comfort in tough times, braving through the trials and tribulations that were thrown at them. In those days, she never felt alone.
She swallowed thickly, a pang in her chest. The cloak was warm as she wrapped it around her, securing the tie at the front and pulling the hood up. Butterbur helped her onto the old steed, and she clutched at the reins briefly before braving a smile at the rotund man.
"I'm sorry," he told her, patting her hand as she claimed the reins.
Kagome only shook her head, bidding him goodbye at the very least. She rummaged around in her bag, thankful they at least gathered her belongings up and produced a washed-out yellow crayon, one of Shippous although she doubted he'd be getting it back now.
She pressed it into his hands and inclined her head, smiling still as the frown on his face turned to intrigue. "For you keep, thank you," she said finally, as Bob lead them out.
Twilight descended swiftly, the chilly night air unforgiving as her steed left the safety of the pen. She wouldn't lie and say there wasn't any bitterness as she glanced over her shoulder at the dim glow coming from the Horse Inn. Here at night, the roads were silent but busy, with all manner of people streaming through.
This time, there was no one at the gate as she left but she felt bereft and bare, lost and directionless as the lights of the town trailed behind her. Soon, only the moonlit gaze guided her path and a heavy silence settled like a weight in her chest.
Kagome gripped the coat tighter and she cursed the fact that she hadn't been given a chance to at least bathe or properly prepare. But there was a heaviness in her bag that she hadn't noticed before, had Butterbur prepared for this in advance?
The thought stung more than it should but she remembered the words Miroku told her once, back in their early days before they'd met Sango or Shippou.
"People owe no allegiance to us, my lady. It is a harsh fact of life that we, as common folk and humans, must come to terms with. Surely, we can't expect everyone to be as caring and inviting as the last, for a person's hospitality and kindness is rooted in a game of give and take. The ebb and flow of life. One must remember, or you'll get lost in the process."
She'd forgotten, of course, she had. So used to the dependency of her former companions was she that she'd forgotten that no one owed her anything, as bitter as that left her. Kagome steeled her nerves and faced the dark night with more gusto than she previously did. This wasn't anything new, just another facet of life she had to deal with. She wasn't helpless or alone, she thought encouragingly, leaning down to pat her steed's flank.
"Just you and me, buddy. Well get through this together." She whispered into the night, her silent companion guiding her along the path.
As the night stretched on and the chill crept in, Kagome continued her journey, unwilling to stop for camp as that burning adrenaline fueled her resolve. Sleep wouldn't come easy anyway, not when the unknown was laid before her and she was still defenseless. Her steed seemed fine leading the way, a slow trot that became a comforting mantra as opposed to the unbearable silence that threatened to swallow her whole.
These woods were foreign, but the ambiance was different compared to the one Tom Bombadil dwelled in. Perhaps she'd keep going for a bit more and then find a place to camp?
Even as she said that Kagome glanced behind her once or twice at the lonely road as the path stretched on, leaving her once again to thoughts of the past.
