After their interrupted night, the young couple sleep in a bit the next morning, spoiling their plans of an early departure. They pack quickly, though they are further delayed as Immalaine makes quick repairs to Rastellion’s sliced breeches, chuckling under her breath as she works. “You’ll be needin’ new ones, as this cut is pretty deep,” she says; “but I've dun all I can, an' this stitchin’ should see you safe back t’ Bree.”
When they come down the stairs of the inn to the common room, following the scent of mushrooms and eggs, they find the room already crowded with most of the patrons. Halfrid looks up from the table where the two guards are already eating and waves. “The night-time defender of the inn!” he calls, in a voice half-choke with chuckles. “Hail, Moon Warrior!” Rastellion blinks at this, not quite understanding, until Immalaine’s barely contained laugh – a mixture of amusement, embarrassment, and anger comes from beside him – and he catches the punning reference to his brief, bare-bottomed fight. Around the common room, the other patrons are nudging each other, grinning and whispering, and he realizes that the story must already have spread through the inn – and probably the whole village and half the surrounding countryside, if this community is anything like the one he grew up in.
Immalaine is quivering behind him, and he can’t tell if it’s in fury or amusement, but he can sense that protests will only make the joshing get worse. So he straightens his shoulders and meets the strangers’ grins with one of his own. “Why thank-you, Halfrid,” he answers his guard. “I believe my night-time outfit so shamed and intimidated our attacker that he fled, perhaps fearing for his virtue as much as his life!” Several of the rowdier patrons guffaw at this, one of them spluttering as his morning’s ale attempts to shoot out his nose. Behind him, he feels a pinch on his arm as Immalaine grips on and squeezes. “Rastellion ...” he hears her whisper in a choked voice.
Turning, he catches the laugh of a Watcher, probably out on his weekly circuit from Bree to confer with the local office. He gestures to the man. “In fact, I believe I’ll suggest back in Bree that the Watchers adopt the same outfit on their rounds, so that perhaps on our friend’s next visit…” Eyes turn to the Watcher and a chorus of laughs breaks out. One of the serving girls immediately steps to the Watcher and drapes an arm about him. “Oooo, show us that armor now,” she coos, “and we’ll inspect your weapons as well!” The fellow – fairly young and probably not much beyond a recruit, splutters an incoherent response, which only generates more teasing.
As everyone is distracted by this new amusement, Rastellion pulls Immalaine with him and they slip to join their guards. “Thanks a lot,” Rastellion mutters to Halfrid, and Immalaine gives him a scowl, but the guard just grins around a mouthful of food and waves his fork at them.
Tilly comes up a moment later, plonking a mug and steaming plate in front of the two. “On the house,” she announces. “You did me a good turn, you and your guard, driving that miscreant off last night before he could do theft or murder. You have my gratitude!” She turns to Immalaine with a smile and a wink. “You’ve got yourself a good man there, little Imma… and well-equipped!” She turns and saunters back toward the kitchens while the startled young woman is still groping for a response, her face turning red.
“So… what did happen last night, before we woke up?” Rastellion asks, starting in on his food and Immalaine nods at the question, turning to the guard. The guards shrug. “I was headin’ out to take a piss,” answers Halfrid. “Was half asleep… and,” he adds, shamefaced, “didn’ think to take my sword. Just my dagger. Saw that fellow pickin’ at your lock and I’d scarce said a thing before he was on me.” He shakes his head. “Wirey little fellow, an’ strong. Didn’ see his face neither, what with that mask on him and all. Then you came out an’, well, you know the rest.”
The other guard nods. “Like Mistress Tilly said, probably jus’ some sneakthief. Mebbe figgered you two’d have money, as bein’ from Bree or sommat.” He emphasizes this observation with a belch, then returns his attention to his plate.
Rastellion thinks about this for a moment, then shrugs. “Well, no harm done,” he decides. “Got what we came for an’ we’re ready to go home.” He smiles at Immalaine. “Just think, in a day or two, you’ll be a wealthy woman, Imma, what with the land to your name.”
“I won’ be rich,” she says, shaking her head, having thought long about it during the night. “I’ll jus’ own a plot o’ land with some burned down buildings and untended crops. An’ no way or money t’ do anything wit’ it. Be no use t’ me.”
He reaches over and rubs her shoulder. “Let’s not worry ‘bout that yet. We’ll get th’ new deed, naming you owner, an’ then you can decide what t’ do.” He lifts his mug, but pauses to add, “If you do try t’ sell the land, though, you should ask at least twice what th’ town was going t’ auction it for, if not thrice. From what I saw yesterday, I can tell you it’s worth at least that much!”
After some time – and a second helping of both breakfast and teasing by the locals – the little group is ready to head out. Tilly comes out into the courtyard to see the group off. "Now, don't be a stranger," she says to Immalaine, and don’ be stayin’ away for years and years agin. Y’ got friends here, Imma. Don’ you be forgettin’ us.”
Immalaine smiles and reaches down from her horse to squeeze the innkeepers' offered hand. “I promise,” she replies, and nods fondly at the woman. “Though, next time I think we'll be keepin' things more covered.” she adds, turning to Rastellion with a grin, her face flushed pink.
Rastellion nod to Tilly as the woman steps back. “Thanks for yer hospitality,” he tells her.
“You take good care of our Imma,” the innkeeper replies, a fondly fierce expression on her face, “or all the fancy breeches-wielding in th’ world won’t keep ya safe from ‘er angry friends.”
“Yes ma’am,” he says, with a chuckle, then he turns his horse’s head, and the party starts back toward Bree.
(Credits and love go to Rastellion, who provided the epilogue to 'Journey to Her Past,. *Blows kisses to Rastellion and grins widely*
