A.N.- Thanks for the Review and sorry again. I fixed it! Normally I write these things in one sitting, but this chapter I did in two and I obviously got the names mixed up. Hopefully it won't happen again. Where is(are) the preposition mistake(s)? I realize its bad of me to ask rather than finding them for myself, but at the moment I'm feeling too lazy to read through the whole thing and possibly miss it(them).
Chapter Three
The next three days blurred together for me. That's how long it took me to sort out my thoughts. You'd think that a street kid like me would probably not have been affected by Philippe's death, that I was somehow strong and "battle hardened". But that wasn't true. Philippe was a friend of mine and even though I knew that death could be right around the corner for me, I wasn't expecting Philippe to die. He was strong and willful. He shouldn't have died. But back then I still believed in Fate. And Philippe's death scared me. I now knew that Fate was stronger than mortals. I could be dead at any moment and wouldn't have a say in the matter. Before Philippe died, I thought that I could fight or run away from death. But apparently one could not escape death when it came.
For the most part my so called rescuers left me alone for that time period. There was David, however. He was human, like me, and only a couple years older. He would come and bring me meager meals then stay for a while and talk to me. He would try to tell me things that I knew weren't true. That I had to get over this slump and get on with my life. That life was full of hard times but I had to get moving again. That that was what I had done when my parents had died. And that his little "guild" would treat me like a family. He promised they would love me like their own little sister.
But I knew that this wasn't true. I didn't have to get over. I could just sit around and die. Maybe that would appease Philippe. He probably had wanted me to die. I had tricked him and led him on. I, a thief and therefore his worst enemy, had played with his feelings. I could just stay here and waste away to nothing. Then the rats could eat my body so there were no remains. I would have never existed.
I knew it wasn't true that I had gotten over my parent's death. That was blatantly obvious by the way I had lost control of myself in the inn. I wasn't sure if I was still completely over it. Up until this point all I had ever really thought about was survival. Now I could think about my abandonment while I was wasting away. What could have possessed them to give up their daughter? Was I really that awful? Was I a monster they didn't want anymore? Was I a monster that had killed Philippe?
A family? No, I didn't need a family. I had had enough family already. I had my parents, and they abandoned me. I had Philippe and he tried to kill me. I didn't need anyone else posing as a family.
On the fourth day I was sitting on my box, playing with the food that David had left, but not eating it, when my ears caught a sound. I paused, listened some more, and thought that I had not actually heard anything when I caught it again. Soon it was plenty loud enough to hear and I was starting to be filled with a little bit of happiness.
Eventually I saw the maestro through the half closed door. I had heard from conversations "the guild" held in the other room that his name was Goombuckle. He was a gnome and therefore was only about as tall as myself and I couldn't tell how old he was. He was always whistling or playing the small conga he had salvaged from somewhere. All the songs he played on it were jubilant and after a while the drum and your heart seemed to become one. It had brought a peace to my soul when he played it during those first three days. He was very good at the conga and I figured that must have come from not having much to do for much of the day. Unlike the other three people in "the guild" he wasn't a rogue. He seemed like a nice guy from the talks I had heard him included in. I guess the reason he was part of a gang was because he grew up in this town. I had found out by watching through the cracked door that he could also do some magic. The one he did most often, where he would cause a collection of floating light balls to appear and would have them fly around. It was entertaining, though I didn't pay much mind to it for those first few days.
Eventually, I had lost enough of the depression and ventured to start a conversation.
"How long have you been playing that, Goombuckle?"
Goombuckle's head snapped towards me and a smile crawled across his face. "Why, just about forever Chris."
I was standing halfway in the doorway and the other half leaned weakly against the wall of my room, which in reality was just a bigger sized closet.
"Where did you learn to play like that?"
Goombuckle seemed to be enjoying the conversation already. "Learn? I didn't learn nothing from nobody." He clasped his hand over his chest. "This is where you learn to play."
We exchanged some more talk then I was directed to a place where I could wash up a bit. I was weak from not eating so Goombuckle cheerfully drew some water for me. After I cleaned my face and hands as best as I could I went back to my room and Goombuckle left for some reason. A little bit later he returned with a decent meal. I ate it quickly and went to sleep listening to the friendly voice of Goombuckle. It seemed to me that he had been waiting for someone to stick around with him during the day.
I ate a few more meals and by the end of the next day I was feeling close enough to normal. Goombuckle played his drum for me often and I learned a lot about The Guild, which I accepted to become part of the following morning. Besides David and Goombuckle, a halfling named Midas Fleetfoot and another human named Michelle Tomlin. In comparison with the other gangs, this one apparently stayed out of the fighting. While they could fight, as I realized all too well, they chose to stick to pick-pocketing and sometimes lifting some ammo or a new dagger from one of the local smiths. I asked why they didn't join in, I thought they would be able to do pretty well holding territory. I didn't get a response from them as to why they don't, David just changed the subject.
I went out the next morning with the group but felt kind of bad for leaving Goombuckle behind. I wondered if it would be better to stay with him and keep him company, but the rest of the group kept urging me to go. They were excited to have me with them and suddenly they seemed more like a group of friends than a gang. I was slowly rethinking my decision that I didn't need a family.
When we left the house I saw that it was actually on the outskirts of town where the city gave way to more rural country. To my surprise I realized that it had been quite silent while I was staying there and should have caught my attention that we were not in the city anymore. I suppose that I had been so used to smaller sized towns that it didn't strike me as strange to not wake up to the hustle and bustle of the city. After all, my stay in Jein had been very short thus far in comparison with the length of my life.
It was dark enough when we left that no one would have seen us. I kept my cloak wrapped around me and my hood up, still fearing that someone might recognized me when I reached town. Strangely, the others weren't cloaked at all and looked like anyone else might.
We walked for a long time and when we arrived at town the sun pronounced that it was its turn to take control of the sky. The moon seemed to argue with it, but by the time the sun had rose another few feet the moon had given up. I did not recognize the part of town that we had come to and voiced my thought.
"Don't worry," David smiled, "it may not look like it, but we're still in Jein. This is the other half of Jein. You won't find many gangs over here and you won't need to worry about anyone coming over this way that might know you."
I lowered my hood and did my best to straighten my hair. I still felt a bit nervous that someone might see me who'd recognize me. But David was correct in that this didn't look like Jein. Sure, the streets still did odd things but there wasn't that rushing sense that was near the docks. It was still a city yet it seemed to be on the verge of being regal. Everyone had clothing that didn't look like it was three years old and everyone seemed friendly enough. All the stores were calm and there was no haggling. David knew a couple of shop owners and said hello as he passed them.
"Alright," David said to me, "rule number one of the guild. No stealing from friends."
I shot a look at him to see how suspiciously he was looking at me. To my shock he was smiling. He didn't seem to think that I had ever thought about it.
He stretched an arm around my shoulder. "We go on honor around here. Well, it's a rogue's honor anyway. Sure, we take a few coins sometimes or more bolts if we need them but we don't take them from friends." He put his arms up and stretched. He uttered a yawn then grinned at me with a mischievous look in his eyes. "Unless it's just for fun."
He tossed a leather bag at me. I caught it and stopped. It was my coin purse that I kept on my belt.
David and the others walked over to a lanky man who had a vegetable stand on the street. The man was rather old and gave them a big smile as they came near. He had spectacles on that seemed to be rather old and beat up. He was one of the only people on the street that looked like a farmer. His baggy pants were patched in some places and his hair was obviously white but you had to take a second glance to make sure because of all the dust and dirt that was in it. An old ragged cap sat upon his head; it appeared to have been with him since he was at least half my age, when it actually fit.
"How y'all doin' this beautiful day?" The man greeted cheerfully. I was standing behind David and kept my eyes focused on his hands.
"Just fine Mr. Slimble," David responded. Everyone else smiled and said hello as well. "How are the crops so far?"
"Well," Mr. Slimble sighed and seemed to look off to his farm. I could tell he was going to be a little long winded in his answer. "The 'matoes are handling just fine so far, but I jist found one taken this mornin'. I e'spect it was a rabbit or a ground hog or somethin' that kin burrow, 'cause I aint found no hole in the fencin' 'round the patch. The corn has been a bit slow in its growin' but I have no other c'plaint 'bout it. Come to think 'bout it, whatever's been getting' at my 'matoes's probly, the same dern thing that's been eating my taters." He gave a long 'hmm', took his hat off and scratched his head then came back to us. "But that's 'bout enough of my yammerin' over the vegits."
"Well, how about Mrs. Slimble?" David offered. He moseyed over to Mr. Slimble's stand and leaned backwards against it, supporting his weight with his hands on the edge of it. I thought I caught some kind of odd motion of his hands but couldn't make it out.
Mr. Slimble took his hat off again and sighed. He smacked his headwear against his pants in an attempt to remove the dust from them. "Same ol', same ol' I s'pose. House aint big 'nough for 'er. Family aint big 'nough for her. I say one kids 'nough, once you get more 'an one, then ya gotta worry 'bout dividin' the property. And if it's a girl ya gotta keep both eyes on 'er at all times or else she'll run off with some nobody," he sent a glance over to Michelle and said quickly, "not that I'm sayin' there's anythin' wrong with girls, 'course. I'm jist sayin' that when its time for 'em to git to marryin' it gits a bit difficult for the parents 'cause we care so much. You 'member that when you get about the age, Michelle." He pointed a finger at her.
"I will, Mr. Slimble. You don't have to worry about me," Michelle insured.
Mr. Slimble sighed and looked at the ground again. "Not that I could keep up with a youngin. I'm too blasted old."
I must have done some little thing that caught his eye, because suddenly he looked up at me. "Whoa there! Where'd you come from, little one." I didn't say anything immediately. I wasn't sure what to say. "Is she with you, David?"
"Yes sir. She's an orphan that just sorta showed up at our doorstep yesterday. She looked half starved when we first saw her. My mom took her in right away and probably nearly killed her with all the stuff she tried to do to her. All night long she was asking if Chris here was comfortable or too warm or full enough. It was a near riot. My mom made so much of a fuss over her." David was grinning sideways at me.
"Must say I kin see why. She's got very nice hair. But couldn't you get her to wash it? It's all dirty! Aint no way for a girl to go 'round." I was starting to blush at the compliment and gave a quick glance at the hair that fell down my shoulders. Was it really that nice? It wasn't blonde or red or any special color, just black.
"Trust me sir, we tried to get her to wash it but she wouldn't. My mom had me chase her around for half the night trying to catch her to put her in the bath. She's quick as a fox I tell you and about as afraid of water as a house cat."
"Well don't she talk none?"
"She talks, she's just shy. I suppose it comes from living on the street. Must have been hard for her out there." He walked over to me and rested a hand on my shoulder. "Would you mind saying hello to Mr. Slimble?"
"Nice to meet you sir," I whispered, playing the part David had given me as a quiet, timid girl. I didn't mind it much, I had played the role before when I needed it, but I was starting to not like it as much. Maybe a bit of Philippe's rowdiness and openness had rubbed off on me. Or maybe I just felt like I was growing up and didn't want to act like a little girl anymore.
"Well, we've got to get going sir. It was nice talking to you." David turned and walked down the street. I kept right next to him and acted like I was younger than I actually was.
"Yep," Mr. Slimble called after us, "make sure to stay out of trouble now. Not like ya've ever been in any trouble! Take care of your new sister David! Don't let her get away from you. She'll be a real looker when she grows up! You'll have to teach her how to stay in one place and take baths." Mr. Slimble chuckled to himself.
"I suppose we have to keep this charade up from now on," I muttered to David.
"Unless you want people to get suspicious because the stories don't add up correctly," David smiled and looked down at me.
I waited while David said a quick hello to someone he knew then brought up the stand. "What did you do when you leaned against the stand?" I whispered so the other two, who were a few feet behind us, couldn't hear.
David looked shocked for a moment, then smiled again. "You saw that? You must have some eyes to have seen that." He thought for a moment as we walked and then said quickly. "Here, I'll introduce you to Mr. Bungle."
Mr. Bungle was a monster of a man. He easily stood taller than any other man I had met thus far in my life. His whole body seemed to be covered in fur and he had a beard that came down to his waist, which meant that it was really long. He had a deep, gruff voice that almost vibrated the armor and weapons that he was surrounded by. His hands were deeply calloused and shown some scars. His chest and arms seemed ready to bust from his shirt. This time I didn't have as much trouble acting afraid. I knew that if he wanted to he could tear me limb from limb.
"Good Morning David!" He uttered and I looked to see if any of the armor or weapons on the walls would fall.
"Good Morning Mr. Bungle." David shouted.
"Who's this you have with you? I haven't seen her around here before."
David went on to relate the story of how I had supposedly ended up in his abode. This time it was a little more vivid and interesting than his first telling. I noticed that something was obviously wrong with Mr. Bungle because David made sure to fully form his words and the volume of his voice was a little higher. At the end of David's explanation, Mr. Bungle stuck out his huge arm and greeted me. I took his hand and mumbled my hello. Mr. Bungle was gripping my hand firmly and when I said hello he cocked his head towards me and shouted, "You've got to speak up kiddo; I'm a little hard of hearing."
This explained why David had been speaking so oddly. I tilted my head up towards his face and yelled, "Hello, it is nice to meet you. My name is Chris."
"It's very nice to meet you too, Chris." Mr. Bungle yelled back with a big smile on his face; this time a bow fumbled off the wall but he paid no mind to it. He tightened his grip on my hand severely and shook it. I cringed a little but did my best not to cry out. "You've got some resilience in ya, I see," Mr. Bungle had stopped shouting. He released my hand and was still smiling from ear to ear. "Why, the first time I shook Davey's hand he whined like a little girl."
I moved my hand behind my back slowly so he wouldn't notice and attempted to make the fingers work. It felt like he had crushed every bone in my hand but I wouldn't let it show. While I was doing so I looked up to David and giggled. Not only had he apparently 'whined like a little girl' but he also had a funny nickname.
At that moment a customer walked in and Mr. Bungle looked up to see who it was. I did so too and observed that it was a gnome whose age I could not identify but was obviously towards the younger stages of a gnome's life. He wore a ferret around his neck which I thought at first was simply a fur, but then its eyes popped open and it raised itself up to see where it was. The gnome was not armored and carried no weapons, though I suppose that was why he had come to the smith.
"Well, here's a customer. Now you all run along now and maybe stop in latter if you want."
We said good-bye and as we were leaving I heard the gnome telling Bungle what he wanted over and over again. Every time Bungle told him to say it a little louder and every time the gnome would repeat it a little louder. I could still half-hear the sound of Mr. Bungle's voice requesting for him to repeat after the door was shut.
"Davey?" I asked with a sideward smile.
"Hey, if you want to continue breathing, you never heard that," David said.
He was smiling and chuckled at the joke and I did too. But at the same time I couldn't fully accept it as a joke after I had seen what he was able to do. Deep down I was afraid that some day I might be in Philippe's shoes.