The couple returns to Bree after dark that night, and discover that the Mayor's Office is closed for the next three days for the Yuletide holidays. At Zandrianna's suggestion, the two leave their precious document with her to lock away in the BAA's strongbox, and head out to the small mountain village of Frostbluff for its annual festivities. They arrive that night, both a bit wide-eyed to see yet another community and landscape which differs from what they've seen before.
A brief giggle of delight escapes her lips as Immalaine looks around at the snow and sights. "This were a great idea!" she says, turning to Rastellion, her eyes flashing with excitement. "I've ne'er been to a festival quite this grand afore! Though," she adds ruefully, "Ye could have warned me t' wear somethin' warmer. Is a tad chilly here.
Rastellion takes Immalaine's hand, feeling how cold it is. "Guess we should've expected it to be cold, up here in the mountains. Let's find a room for tonight... we'll have all day tomorrow to explore the festival." He rubs her hand. "But I suppose we could do a bit o' shopping tonight, too, and find you a warmer cloak."
"Mebbe yer right," she says, looking around wide eyed. "Let's go see what we can find!"
They stop,as Rastellion pauses to ask a guard directions to a lodging house. The man shakes his head. "Unless you've got reservations, I expect most places are full up. Still, might try down this street, you never know your luck." He points to his left. Rastellion looks at Immalaine a bit nervously. "Guess we'd better go see..."
As they leave the man standing guard over the proceedings, Immalaine looks back at his club. "What a big weapon he has," she says, grinning mischievously at Rastellion before turning to look back in the direction the guard pointed.
Rastellion chuckles. "I think it's just that the uniform makes it look bigger.." he says, as they stroll down the street, looking with dismay at all the 'no vacancy' signs in the windows. Finally, at the end of the long street, the two come across a somewhat dilapidated boarding house that, for a change, doesn't show a 'no vacancy' sign. "Should we try here?" he asks Immalaine, a bit dubiously, as she bites her lip and considers. "It dun look as we have much option." she says, turning to Rastellion finally. He shrugs. "Well, we've both slept in worse," and knocks at the door.
"Just a moment, just a moment," comes a quavery voice, and after a full minute, a hunched old woman opens it and peers suspiciously up at the two of them. "Yes? What is it?" Rastellion instinctively steps back, sensing that Immalaine's gentler touch will serve them here.
Looking down at the older woman, Immalaine smiles gently. "'Ello," she said, nodding at the old woman respectfully. "We were wonderin' if ye had a room we could rent fer th' night?"
The old woman looks up at Immalaine, and frowns at her suspiciously. "A room? What's to make me think you young folk are honest, hmmmm? Maybe you'll steal the silver while I'm not looking?"
Immalaine turns to Rastellion, unsure how to respond to the woman, then turns back as she considers the situation. "Of course," Immalaine replies, "I understand it's hard to trust strangers, but all I have fer ye is me word that we want nothin' but a bed t' rest in. An' I could even cook fer ye, if ye've a mind fer that."
Rastellion gives the caustic old biddy his best smile. "Good lady, we're hardly likely to steal your silver, when we've brought our own!" He produces a silver coin from his belt pouch and uses it to point at the water-stained sign in her graying window. "And you do say room to let..."
The old woman peers at them again, then snatches the coin from Rastellion's hand and bites it with her few remaining teeth. She seems satisfied, by the metal at least. "I'll not trust anyone's cookin' but me own," she says. "Like as not you'd poison me with some newfangled recipe. But your coin seems good, an' I'll be needing it, what with the damage these partying ruffians are like to be causing before the festival's over." She turns to lead them inside, then pauses and swings back, accusingly. "You're not loud, are you? I won't have any boisterous shenanigans doin' on under my roof. I'm a respectable woman, an' I'll not have folks saying otherwise!"
Immalaine nods, wisely refraining from letting out a small chuckle, as she follows the woman into the house. Looking back, she makes sure that Rastellion is behind her, before following the old woman down a hallway, up a rickety flight of stairs, and around another bend to the light of an open doorway.
Rastellion steps in afterward, made a bit dubiously at the water stains on the walls and the smell of mildew. "Been all I can do t' keep body an' breath together," complains the old woman from ahead of them, "ever since my Hob died. Children never visit, an I hear some of my grand-kids are gallavantin' in foreign parts wavin' swords and whatnot. Foolish, if you ask me, folks should stay at home an' leave foreign business to foreigners."
She comes to the small door and starts worrying at its lock with an old key. "Tell you, I've even seen dwarves and elves about town this festival. Elves? Ought to stay in their forests they should, and dwarves back under the rocks they crawled out of." She finally unlocks the door and swings it open with a creek. "Hobbits, now, them I don't mind. Cheerful folk as always says hello, most of 'em." She turns, still blocking the door, "well, don't just be standing there gawpin, you two, come in if you're coming..." And only then does she step away to allow them to examine the room.
With another quick glance back at Rastellion, Immalaine tentatively enters the room. Its sparse furniture and decoration show distinct signs of wear, and a musty odor permeates the walls as though it'd been some time since someone had stayed there. Despite that, the sheets and thin quilt on the bed seemed clean and neatly repaired, and there was a dresser with a bowl on top for washing water. "It's nice ma'am," Immalaine says, turning back to the old lady and nodding politely at her. "We'll be ju' fine here, won't we dear?" she says, looking at Rastellion.
"It might do," he says, dubious. He turns to the old woman. "How much for two nights?" he asks.
"Five silver a night, and meals extra," she responds immediately, and then holds up a hand as Rastellion draws an outraged breath. "And don't you be dickerin' with me, young man. I know as rooms is hard t' come by this time o' year, an' I'd have no trouble filling my rooms any night I like, damp smell or no. I'm only lettin' you in at all as I like th' look o' your lass there - reminds me o' me when I was young an' pretty - but you start playin' your fancy city bargainin games wit' me, and I'll send you both packin' t' park your bottoms in the snow. Now," she holds out an imperious hand. "Five silver a night, first night up front."
Rastellion, realizing he's met his match, shuts his mouth and wordlessly hands over the coins. "Good, that's that," she says, then pokes his chest with a bony finger. "An' no noise when I'm tryin' t' sleep!" She turns on her heel and marches out the door, leaving the two to unpack the few possessions they've brought on this trip.
After hearing the door shut, and the old woman head back up the hallway, Immalaine turns to Rastellion with a grin and a chuckle. "Well," she said, her eyes twinkling, "I guess she weren't takin' no fer an answer!"
With that, she slides her bag off her back, onto the small bed as she begins rifling through it. "Pigsnot," she mutters to herself, "I really wish I'd o' brought something warmer t' wear. It's gone be a cold day or two while we're here." She pulls out her brush and goes to set it on the dresser, noting the small crack in the mirror hanging on the wall. She just shakes her head, wondering who got the bad luck from that, and turns to Rastellion again. "Well, least we'll be warm t' sleep, an' that's what matters most."
Rastellion strolls over to kiss the top of her head before moving to unpack his own bag. "Warmer if we put something t' block the draft from this window," he says, gesturing at the dusky glass in the warped frame overlooking the front street. "But I thought I saw some cloaks on sale back up the street a ways. What say we go take a look, once we're settled here, hm?"
Looking to the window Rastellion had pointed to, she bites her lip thoughtfully, before nodding. "Yer right, it does look like it could do wit a bit o' coverin'. We can go see these cloaks, mebbe one o' them would work jus' fine." she muses.
Once Rastellion has quickly tucked away his things in a wobbling dresser, he steps back to offer Immalaine a hand up. "Let's go, then. Festivities here look as if they mean to go on all night, but I'm not sure the merchants will. We might even find something warm to eat while we're about it."
Excitedly, Immalaine takes Rastellions' hand and stands, stretching slightly before bouncing on the balls of her feet. "That sounds like a grand idea. I could use somethin' warm t' eat 'bout now. An' mebbe I'll learn some new dish while I'm here." She leans up and kisses Rastellion on the cheek, turning to the door.
As they head down the creaking stairs and out toward the front door, the old woman hollers at them from the parlor. "An' dont think t' be comin' back at all hours o' th' night, neither! I'll be goin' up t' bed at ten o' the clock, and if yer not back by then, plan to fend for yourselves 'til dawn, as won't be 'til then that my door'll be unlocked again."
Quickly she turns and buries her face in Rastellion's coat, as she tries her hardest not to simply burst out laughing. "Think we should listen t' her," she says low, then looks up at Rastellion with a mixture of merriment and happiness.
"We'd best make it an early night" he says ... then adds, as they step outside, "and, somehow, a quiet one, too!" He looks around the snow-covered street, getting his bearings, then starts back up the way they came, toward the stall he remembers.
(Credits and love go to Rastellion, who provided the voice of the male characters in this story. *Blows kisses to Rastellion and grins widely*)
