The Tipsy Thistle

    The ‘Tipsy Thistle’ was immediately apparent as they approached the village center. The inn stood out as one of the few multi-story buildings in the town, a solid, all-timber construction. Its small courtyard was complete with its own short palisade, and Sean saw that the windows were small and defensible. In contrast with its somewhat militant facade, the inn’s sign showed a bright purple thistle flower sporting a floridly drunken face. Raucous laughter and merriment signaled the day’s labor was on pause for a late lunch.

    Walking into the building and up to the common room’s counter, Sean saw a matronly woman cleaning glasses. She looked up and gave him a welcoming smile.

    “Welcome to the Tipsy Thistle! I haven’t seen the two of you around here before. The name’s Alma, I’m the inkeeper’s wife and co-proprietor of the establishment. What brings you here on this fine day?”

    “A pleasure to meet you, Alma,” Sean replied, inclining his head. “My companion and I are looking for some food and a room for the night, if you have one to spare.”

    “Oh, aye, aye, we have plenty of room. All the folk you see outside are locals coming in for a quick bite. We don’t get too many travelers through here, being at the end of the road as we are.” The older woman leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially. “Past Greenbough the path stops at the old High King’s Hall. They say it’s cursed!”

    Sean stifled a chuckle, thinking back to the old, but decidedly mundane ruin he’d landed in. “Thank you for the warning, we’ll be sure to avoid it.”

    “What about the food? Do you have anything with nuts?” Flick asked, her eyes fixed intently on the proprietress.

    Alma looked Flick up and down, clucking her tongue. “Your lad hasn’t been feeding you properly, lass! Don’t you worry, we have a fine mushroom and chestnut stew on the fire and some fresh loaves of bread to go with it. Straight out of the oven. Go sit yourselves down and I’ll bring some out.”

    Sean and Flick went outside and found a table towards the edge of the courtyard. True to her word, Alma brought them each a big bowl of stew and half a loaf of rough rye bread. She also set down two mugs of beer.

    “Here you go, enough food to start putting meat back on the girl’s bones. The stew’s from the inn’s cauldron, and the bread’s fresh from the baker’s down the way. It’ll be a copper each for the food.” She turned to Sean, “The beer is on the house, seeing it’s your first time in Greenbough. Just holler if you need a refill, it’ll cost you just a copper more for another mug of the finest ale in the land!”

    Sean and Flick thanked the woman and dug into their meal with gusto. The stew was hearty and rich, the wild mushrooms and chestnuts adding flavor to a thick brown base that paired nicely with the bread. The beer was light but burned pleasantly just at the back of Sean’s throat. It was delicious, especially after a day and a half eating loose nuts.

    Pretty much everywhere he’d went, bars were the site of all the local and regional gossip. While Sean didn’t expect to hear news about the local sports teams, he was curious at what he might hear listening in to the villagers’ conversations.

    He wasn’t disappointed. In the time it took them to finish their first bowl of stew, he felt completely caught up on the village gossip. Apparently the miller’s daughter had been making eyes at the baker’s boy, which seemed to him like a good match. The rye crops were looking a bit poorer this year than the last, a fact that the farmer in question blamed on the local puca. His explanation was laughed off as ridiculous, his companions pointing out that there hadn’t been a puca in the area for years.

    The conversation that caught Sean’s attention most was between what appeared to be a travelling merchant and a local craftsman.

    “The paths have gotten more dangerous, my friend.” The merchant said. “This might be my last trip north for a while, so make sure to stock up on those sweets your girls like.”

    “Aye, the hunters have said the same. There’ve been more monsters in the woods and fewer game animals.” The craftsman replied. “I heard from a friend out east that even the sea roads have gotten more treacherous, though he didn’t know the reason.”

    The man’s companion shivered. “You’d never get me on a boat, no sir. I’ll keep my feet on the ground and my wares in my cart, thank you very much. I already offer thanks to the Pale Ladies, I don’t need to add Passei’s tithe to my toll.”

    The conversation turned towards a brewing competition in the next town over, but Sean filed the information away for later. Even if the town seemed tranquil, there clearly were dangers lurking past the walls. The conversation had also given him a collective name for the trio who had summoned him – he was happy to know he could call them something more specific going forward and still be understood.

    A tapping drew his attention back to his meal. Flick was poking the bottom of her bowl with her spoon, looking at the empty vessel dejectedly. Sean sighed and called Alma over for seconds, which she generously provided.

    “So Flick,” he started, “tell me about yourself. I know, you know, the things you’ve shown me, but I’d like to know more since you’ve decided to travel with me.”

    Flick stopped shoveling stew into her mouth for a moment to chew thoughtfully. “Well, I’m fond of freshly baked bread for breakfast, preferably with a fresh cup of milk. I’m not picky for lunch and dinner, really, I’ll eat pretty much anything I can find or catch. Oh! But I do like fruit bread for dessert. Nothing tart though, never had a taste for sour things.”

    Sean rolled his eyes at her obvious avoidance of the question. “Beyond food, Flick. I find it hard to believe you’re just a walking stomach.”

    She pointed her spoon in his direction, “Well you should, lad, because there isn’t much else you need to know. I go where I please, I do what I please, and I eat whatever I can get me grubby little mitts on. I don’t harm folk and I keep to my own business – unlike certain prospective monarchs.” She picked up her rye loaf with her free hand and tore off a chuck with her teeth.

    “You don’t need to tell me your dark secrets. What about things you do for fun? Do you have any hobbies?” Sean pressed.

    “I just told you,” she answered indistinctly before swallowing. “I eat and I wander. What about you? What do you do for fun besides collapsing perfectly good burrows and pestering folk?”

    Sean began to answer, but stopped. There were a hundred things he’d done to pass the time before his death. If things had gone differently and he were at home right now, rather than in this strange new land, he’d probably be in the dark playing computer games or watching a movie with Sara. They’d have talked about life and the future, maybe gone out for dinner if they’d been feeling adventurous. None of it was remotely relevant to his here and now.

    Flick seized upon his hesitation. “Hah!” She exclaimed triumphantly. “You don’t have a good answer either.” She drained her stew in a final gulp and leaned back in her chair. “Don’t worry lad, we’ll get to know each other the way folks have done for ages – slowly, with a lot of small lies and hidden truths. Besides, a little mystery keeps things interesting.”

    He forced a smile at her teasing, which she rewarded by wiggling her bowl back and forth. “Now, would a gentleman such as yourself care to buy a lass thirds?”

    As he tried to talk her down from another serving of stew, a commotion erupted from the entrance to the courtyard. Sean turned to see the redheaded young woman from earlier rushing up to one of the men in the courtyard.

    “Colin! Owen and Caitlin, have you seen them?” She asked the man frantically.

    The man shook his head, “No, not since I left the house this morning. Why, what’s wrong?”

    “I sent them to forage at the forest’s edge, but they should have been back before now. I’ve been asking all over the village, but none of the others have seen them. I’d hoped they’d stopped here to eat lunch with you, but if you haven’t seen them…”

    “…then they’re missing.” Colin finished grimly. “Our children are gone.”