Late in the morning, Rose enters the tavern looking tired after a sleepless night. She makes her way up to the bar and pushes a stool aside to lean on the counter, nodding as she catches Barliman's eye. After finishing with the customer he's helping, he slides over to where she stands.
“Rose, e'erything a'right then?” he asks her, his thick brow furrowed in concern over how she'd left the day before.
“Yes, everything is fine. The baby seems to be okay, but I've got that child watching over her to be sure.” Rose replies, her tone suggesting that she's less than thrilled by the prospect.
“What 'appened then?” Barliman asks, and Rose briefly fills him in on what had transpired the day before, him listening carefully with an occasion nod or sound of assent. She finishes telling him her tale and a moment of silence stretches before he finally speaks again. “Now, don'tcha go bein' so hard on the lass,” he says as he gathers the nearby empty mugs for one of the serving girls to bring to the back for cleaning. “Seems a nice 'nough sort, from when I've seen her come by here. E'en played fer th' regulars a time or two, fer nothin'.”
Rose grabs a bar rag and begins wiping at the counter, her movement restless. “All I asked her to do was keep and eye on Althessia, and look what happens. The child has no more sense than a swarm of midge-flies, that's truth.”
With a rueful grin, Barliman shakes his head, and takes the cloth from Rose, quickly making work of the rest of the counter. “An' that's the truth about most young women Rose, or have ye forgotten that ye got into a few bits o' trouble yerself when ye were young.”
“Nonsense Barliman, I never ...”
“Oh, ne'er is it? Well now, seem t' recall a certain lass an' her friends comin' by here one evening, something 'bout celebratin' an upcoming wedding or some such ...”
Rose eyes snap up to stare at Barliman mortified, a flush forming on her cheeks. “You recall no such thing Barliman,” she chokes out.
“May be a bit older than ye, Rose, but I've still my wits 'bout me,” Barliman replies as he tosses the rag aside. “You girls came by that evening, spendin' coin like it were water. By the end o' th' evening, you were up on th' table dan ...”
“Barliman!” Rose snaps, her voice filled with embarrassment, “Say another word and I will go around the counter and wrap that apron around your head!”
Barliman barks in laughter. “Some 'round here would likely say it's an improvement t' my looks,” he replies but then shakes his head and offers Rose a smile. “Listen, all I'm tryin' t' say here is that e'eryone can make a mistake. That girl, she's a kind lass an' ye shouldn't be so hard on her. Now, let me get ye an ale.”
Rose, still red-faced at the mention of the night before her wedding shakes her head. “Not this time Barliman. Tea for me. And,” she pulls out a sheet of parchment and hands it to him, “A couple of supplies I'm needing for the house.”
Barliman takes the paper and brings it up to look at, nodding as he reads it off. “Easy 'nough,” he said. “Go ha'e yerself a seat an' one o' th' girls'll bring yer tea out t' ye, while I see t' this.”
With a nod, Rose makes her way to one of the tables and sits down to wait for her tea and supplies. 'Not be hard on Merry?' she thought, 'how could she teach the girl any sense if she wasn't?' Her mind turned over this puzzle as she taps her fingers on the table.
One way or another, she was going to knock some sense into that child.
