Show Business is no Business for a Goose
It was a calm, gentle day like any other at the Ashdown estate.
The earliest budding of summer leaves were like brilliant green specks of wonder to the fledgelings of the year. All was as it should be as Arindiis, lady of the Bear Den, sat outside on the steps enjoying her morning coffee. The steam of her cup piercing the thin veil of morning’s haze
The rays from gaps in the heavens shone upon the house through the shallow mist, casting summer’s warmth on Arin’s head. The young birds chittered and chattered in the oaks, dancing from tree to tree in merry ritual. No breeze would clear the fog, nor sway the long grass where the wild flowers bloomed.
It was a great day to just exist. In times like these, the delicate moments where absolutely nothing was going on was truly the sweetest. Everything was so familiar, who could ask for more?
So it was indeed a surprise when a rather unfamiliar figure strolled up the lane towards the house that had too few visitors.
An ageing man dressed in simple earthy colours, wielding a long antler stick had approached the house. A thin beard with specks of grey betrayed his age. Sunken eyes gazed on the idyllic scene and with a hand held high he called to the lady outside as he walked warily up the lane towards the house
“Oh! Mind if I have your attention for a moment?”
Arindiis, startled by the intrusion, glowered at him with icy blue eyes, eyes that were still weary from sleep.
“What?”
“My goose has gone missing.” spoke the farmer, “My prized goose see, gone walkabouts she has.”
Arindiis rubbed her eyes, as though the words spoken to her were hardly processed.
“Your goose?” she asked.
“Aye, been looking for her all morning! She might have by come this way. I always take her to the country faire, me prize winning goose she is, bless her. There’s foxes about this time of year, I hope no harm comes to her.”
Suddenly, as if the disturbance of the stranger wasn’t enough, the door behind Arindiis flung open and out came her cousin and brother. The duo were already up and eager for the day, a stark contrast with Arin who still wore her morning robes.
Arin opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Solveij, ever peppy and excitable, piped up with a voice as happy as the birds.
“We’ll find your goose friend! Couldn’t have gone far! Geese aren’t a bother! You’ll see!”
Arindiis was far more reserved than her younger cousin. Nevertheless she elaborated as though Solveij had not spoken at all.
“I talk to animals,” Said she, “perhaps we can find your goose for you.”
“Oh do you now, m’lady?” replied the farmer, half elated as Solveij was, though a pleasant grin rested on his face. “Well if you could find her, I’d appreciate it very much, friends! I reckon she might have gone North, mind you, she did that last time, and the time before that…”
And with that, the farmer bid his farewells and strolled back down the road.
A short time after, the gang was ready to make a move. Askelin, Man of the Bear Den, had been informed with the sudden task at hand. And he was perhaps just as bemused as Andri, who was not so keen to join the others on their little quest to rescue the goose. Still he relented and made his decision, throwing himself down the garden steps, slinging his pack over his shoulder, hurrying to join the others.
As the four walked up the wooded path, beyond the stone arch and towards the great East Road. Andri had already started grumbling about one thing or the other.
“Some adventure this is… Off to find some old man’s goose! Hardly a task fit for warriors like we! And besides, geese are such fussy creatures! Always preening, always trying to look clean, bit like you, Blondie!”
Askelin did not respond to the jape, however, Solveij responded in kind by firmly slapping Andri on the arm, giggling,
“Lighten up! Even something as mundane as this is more fun than absolutely nothing at all!”
Rubbing his shoulder, Andri glared daggers at his cousin, though only for a moment. The girl was right, ‘anything beats lounging around at home for yet another day’, he concluded.
Upon the way, they came upon a small band of Eglain merchants heading West. They were ruddy and dirty from the road, hard worn were their clothes and rugged were their expressionless faces. A pack mule accompanied them, laden with trinkets, provisions and oddly enough, eggs.
“Greetings! Bit of a strange question, but have you seen a goose? White as fresh snow and apparently rather large?”
The question was received with a hearty chuckle among the travellers. Though one of the men spoke out amidst the humour.
“Actually, yes funnily enough, and not too long ago. It crossed our path a league back and headed into the marsh. Don’t reckon he’ll be white for much longer. And nor will the rest of you if you try chasing it down. That be the nastiest bog this side of the Weather Hills.”
With this newfound information, and with a frustrated sigh from Andri, they opted to make their way through the marshes. The fog sat thick on the flats and fens, hiding murky pools, the sturdy grass tickled the legs and the flowering thistles grew wild. It would have been a treacherous path had they not kept on a wooden laid ‘road’ that threatened to sink beneath the mud with each footstep.
Solveij, not the most dextrous of people, had almost lost her footing as the worn and rotting planks gave way to the combined weight of the four travellers. She secretly thanked her luck that she chose to wear strong boots for the journey as they squelched through the thickets leading towards the village of Staddle.
“This bloody adventure stinks!” Complained Andri, “There’s no way we are going to find a goose through this mist, and I refuse to trudge through the swamp looking to sell some bird back to some old farmer!”
“We’re not ransoming a poor farmer’s prized goose, Andri. We’re simply helping him.” said Askelin.
“Well he can help himself! I’m going to Staddle, at least the ground there is somewhat solid!”
“Fine. We’ll ask around there instead.”
The sight of three tall, fit and battle ready Beornings emerging through the morning mist from the swamps, accompanied by a slim, well groomed and daringly handsome blonde swordsman with a mean blade at his hip must have been a queer thing indeed to the hobbits of that village. A cause for alarm even!
Luckily, little Rosyn had spotted them first and greeted them with a wave of her small hand.
“Hey! What on earth are you doing coming from that way? They hadn’t fixed that walkway in years!”
“Looking for a farmer’s prized animal.” Replied Arindiis, wiping the swamp water from her legs
“ We stomped through the marshes but found no sign of her! It has been a good day though!” Added Solveij, peering down at the hobbit with wild, curious eyes and a grin so bright it was as if the world around her was a secret joke that only she caught on to.
“Is that so? Well, good luck with that… Oh by the way, guess what?”
Then came into view a creature that was unmistakably their quarry. A large goose, grander and surely fatter than any had ever seen, practically Derosyn’s height, and twice as wide, it waddled curiously towards the hobbit, a slice of half eaten bread in its yellow beak. About its neck was tied a brilliant red ascot scarf. It looked up towards the four with beady, distrusting eyes.
Solveij was ecstatic, Andri backed off warily.
“beast with wings…” He coughed under breath, daring not to look the goose in the eye.
Askelin seemed more relieved that the search was over than he was amused at Andri’s trepidation, and yet Arindiis was the only one who dared approach.
“This adorable thing just came wandering onto my lawn!” Beamed Derosyn, “Ever seen a goose like this? I always wanted a goose. Well, not always… But now I do!”
Arindiis cautiously stretched her arm out, crouching towards the goose, clicking her tongue and grumbling deeply within her throat, she spoke the strange language of birds and beasts. A tongue that was crude to Rosyn as it was unknowable to her. To her ears it was a cacophony of guttural clicks, purrs and chirps. She raised a brow, folding her arms as though Arindiis was mad.
The goose suddenly let out a cry and slapped its webbed foot upon the grass, causing poor Derosyn to jump back in surprise.
The conversation was brief. Arindiis stood up and turned to Askelin.
“She will come back with us.”
Derosyn sighed. “Suppose she belongs to another…”
Arindiis nodded and offered a rare smile to Derosyn, taking her hand gently. “Some farmer came to us looking for her, it is a good thing we did. We will have to take this goose home, where it belongs.”
“I get it… Oh! But if you could strike a deal with this fellow, believe it or not but I adore goose eggs, best eggs for breakfast if you ask me. Wouldn’t be a bad thing at all if I am provided with some good, fresh eggs!”
Some time later, and now with Derosyn in tow, they arrived at the farmer’s abode. He was tending to his gander of geese, the man looked utterly downtrodden though diligently provided them with fresh bedding. That was until his goose came waddling up to him, greeting him with a loud HOOONK!”
“Pansy!” cried the farmer, “You’re back?!”
“Who’re you calling a pansy?” muttered Andri.
“My goose! Dearest pansy, thank goodness you’re not hurt!” He notices Derosyn then.
“I didn’t lose a hobbit, so who’s this then?”
“The name’s Rosyn!” the little lass said, “Your goose arrived at my front door up at Staddle if you could believe it.”
“All's well that ends well!” Said the farmer, “Alas I haven’t aught but my undying gratitude to give you, kind strangers.”
“Actually…” said Askelin, “There is one thing…”
And so. That concludes this strange little tale. Perhaps it's not the most epic of stories nor are those the ones you recall the fondest.
Perhaps then it is the simple things, the small kindnesses performed on days where otherwise absolutely nothing is going on.
Derosyn returned home that day well chuffed with herself, smiling eagerly at her bountiful basket of eggs.
((Thank you for reading this story! It was a day-and-a-half project with my betrothed, the player of Arindiis, who had done the illustrations. You must forgive the unfortunate format.))
