A Change of Clothes



It was a sunny late summer afternoon as Ceonbura roamed the Bree market, her brow furrowed in deep thought. The tall, muscular woman was tackling a problem she had never had to face before. Her mind was muddling its way through ideas that slowly formed out of her imagination as she looked at the items displayed at the stalls, but she had no experience to know if they were right. This problem truly was new to her.

How in a horse’s arse was she meant to dress up nicely?

Ceonbura was not entirely sure why she wanted to. Her entire life she had rarely worn anything one would call feminine. She had worn her sturdy leather vest over the simple undershirt, and a leather skirt over trousers. She had only ever worn the skirt as a nod to the concept of modesty. She only wore anything with sleeves for the coldest few weeks of the year, preferring to feel the air on her arms.

In her line of work back home she had never had much opportunity for friends. She had worked hard to build a fearsome reputation just so the men of the underworld would leave her alone long enough to prove herself as a good fighter. Once she had done that and been put to work, she stopped having much time for anything other than what she was being paid to do.

She was not back home. She was in Bree with free time and someone who wanted to share that with her. Maybe that was why she wanted to look nice. Maybe it would mean she would be seen as a better prospective friend if she dressed nicely. So how was she meant to dress nicely?

None of the dresses looked like they would fit her shoulders particularly well, and even thinking about wearing one made her feel somewhat ridiculous. Even if she found one that fit how was she meant to pick colours? Would some colours look silly with her yellow-blonde hair, or could she pick anything?

Well perhaps Honeymist would know. Ceonbura’s lips turned up in a smile as she recalled the pretty farmer’s daughter and the flower that she had given to Ceonbura. She tucked a braid of hair behind her ear, her fingers brushing over the yellow flower tucked there. It was only a simple gesture but was one that had brightened her day.

“How do I look?” She had asked after putting the flower there, not expecting an answer that would brighten not just her day but her whole week.

“Absolutely stunning!” Ceonbura could not remember blushing much in the past, she had not even been sure what it felt like. She knew now and knew that it left her feeling as light as the southern breeze over a wide grassy plain.

Honeymist seemed like someone who knew how to dress nicely, she had looked lovely in the dress she had been wearing at the market. However, Ceonbura felt it would be weird to go to her to ask about how to dress nicely for when they next met so had endeavoured to take on the impossible task on her own.

Dresses were not right. That much she had decided. Maybe she should just try to improve her current outfit. The skirt was rather tatty, particularly round the back, and the undershirt was so old that it was no longer the original white colour it had been when she first bought it. Maybe she could get some different colours as well.

After a long time, she finally had something that would work. She had a simple rose-coloured blouse to go under her vest, sleeves reluctantly cut off by the seamstress that had sold it to her, and a matching ascot scarf that the woman had said would go well with the shirt. From someone else she acquired a pair of dyed violet leggings and then a newer skirt with of violet cloth and leather. Then she had bought a pair of decorative copper bracers to wear on her forearms instead of the reinforced fighting gloves she normally wore.

Lastly, she had acquired a head band of fresh flowers. It would be sad to say goodbye to the marigold behind her ear, but it had been a few days and it would not survive much longer. The flowers of the headband would definitely survive until the morrow when Honeymist had suggested the meet for a less rushed tour of Bree.

Happy with these clothes, Ceonbura decided it was time to head back to her room at the Prancing Pony, but not without purchasing a small basket full of apples, taking one for the walk home.

That night she went to bed with a smile on her face, looking to the morning with excitement at the possibility of having an actual friend.