Ven
2 Autumn 218
The distance between them was marked by an old and oblong coffee table, the varnish having long been worn away and the wood cracked in a way that one would one day succumb, but for the moment had little problem holding the two saucers and tea cups along with the pot which was still steaming.
The sofa on which Ethan had been offered to sit was too soft toward the back, long due to be replaced, but had found a place to retire there within the old woman’s home, but did prompt the half-elf to sit move toward the front edge of the furniture.
“I’d always had a fondness for the feeding the geese ever since I was a girl. I think most consider them nuisance, but if you pay attention they each have their own personalities—curious, kind, brave, or shy in the way that people so often are and they’ve stories all their own.”
Margret took up the smaller saucer and its cup from her side of the table as it’d enough time that it’d not scold and sipped at it quietly.
“It was three years ago in the Spring when that one arrived, larger than the others, and cunning in her own way. I’d first seen she was special when I saw one of the merchants chasing her across the knoll with near a whole loaf of bread,” she said with a bit of laughter in her voice.
“It wasn’t until that winter I came to know that goose had the most peculiar friendship. I’d given a piece of bread and she had stolen it away from the others, but rather than eating it up as I thought she might, she carried it away. This had happened times before I’d the mind and the curiosity to wonder where she was going with it—and there I found that ravenous badger you met upstairs tangled in old fishing net.
“The poor thing was exhausted and I am quite certain would have died were it not for that goose. Naturally, I untangled the creature and wrapped it up in my good shawl and carried it home to mend it. I tell you that goose followed right after me and each day came to visit at the door. She had somehow, by means I cannot imagine, become fond of that fearsome creature. However it might have happened the two seem to be inseparable.
“In the first days I felt certain the thing would not survive, and then one day I came home to find it had eaten one of my shoes, my favorites in fact. I’ll admit I was flustered, but glad too, and set the thing free on its way sure I would never see it again.
“It was the next day the first gift came. I heard a sound at the door and there was a silver coin. I thought for a time it was a kindly neighbor and asked about but no one would admit to the generosity—and then one morning I saw with my own eyes that goose waddle up with a necklace in her bill.
“I imagine she got into her mind that people like such things that shine as coins and trinkets, and just as I am often to give her bits of bread or seeds, she thought to be kind to me in return.
“I truly did seek to find the owner at first, but I quickly realized none would believe my tale without something to prove the truth of it and I might be called a thief or worse that one wronged and angry would think to make a roast of her—and I simply could not bear that. I never did encourage it, but I do so seldom get gifts.
“It wasn’t until winter I came downstairs to go to the door to find my shoes missing and in the sitting room were all the shreds and bits—that vicious thing had found a way inside beneath the floor boards and made a cozy nest beneath that old lounge chair.
“I couldn’t very well send the thing out in the midst of the snow and the cold, and I suppose after a time I couldn’t imagine sending either of them away at all. He did come and go on his own and I kept the back door from latching so that she could come and go as well when she wanted to. I began to find bits of shoes that didn’t belong to me, all torn and tattered, but the thing really cannot be reasoned with.
“It wasn’t until the Spring the rumors began. I suppose the truth was I was simply tickled to know a truth that no one else knew—I had my very own secret. It was by Summer the tale had spread and the Thief King of Ven was born,” Margret concluded with a quiet sip of her tea, before lowering it to her lap and worrying the edge with her fingers.
“It’s so shameful saying it aloud, but you have to understand they had become my friends. I will return all that I can, but you must simply promise that you won’t hurt either of them.”
Ethan
Ethan listened to the story, customarily accepting the wild tale instantly. Once again, he was provided evidence that whatever god created this world clearly had a sense of humor – how else should such things be taken if not with a genuine admiration for their absurdity?
Her story would have won against ole Martin’s – one of the few instances where the answer to the mystery (of his missing shoe) is more outrageous than the mystery itself! Bishop said into Ethan’s mind.
Ethan looked at the two animals; each one had ventured into the room independently (although their arrivals were separated by a very narrow window) and now occupied different parts of the cozy tea room. Maude settled by next to the old woman’s chair, her face tucked into her wing as she slept. Roger lay before the fireplace, his teeth and claws tearing at the leather remnants that was once a shoe.
“The goose’s name is Maude. The badger is Roger. They’ve known each other for…” he thought about it for a moment. “Twenty years or so.”
He noted her reaction but continued.
“Maude used to chase after a friend of mine when we were children – bit of a temper on that one. Roger… well, Roger was always a little pampered; a different friend would lug him around in a baby carrier worn around her chest…”
Ethan laughed, remembering the first time he saw Danica carry Roger around in such a manner – another absurdity. When they were kids, the badger was nearly half her weight and Danica just showed up without saying anything about it. ‘Nothing to see here, people. Just a girl carrying a badger around like an infant…’ her posture implied. Ethan tried to share a judgmental smile, but she’d refused to make eye contact, ignoring him instead. The strategy worked and sometime soon after the sight became just another unassuming quirk, almost unnoticed by the denizens of Aelorean’s Crossing. That was the beauty of a small town – everything was known so thoroughly that neighbors would save their judgements until it was time to gossip. Otherwise, peculiarities were so unmentioned they almost felt unseen.
At least, it worked that way for most residents. Ethan was (of course) the exception.
As he made this connection, Ethan realized for the first time just how significant the role of his own family’s judgment played into the perceptions of the judgment of his neighbors. In Aelorean’s Crossing, the way parents defined their children publicly shaped the image of what was projected onto them: Garbon was smart; Danica was adored; Roland was a prince. And Ethan was…
He shook his head, coming back into the present, his thoughts having wandered. He was in a tea room, seated across from an old woman who lovingly pet a goose sleeping beside her while a badger stretched itself out in front of the fireplace, its favorite toy destroyed and seemingly forgotten.
Life is a strange existence.
He set the tea down without drinking any, adjusting himself on the uncomfortable couch. “As far as I’m concerned, you don’t need to obligate yourself to return anything. Most shiny things can be replaced, and the ones that can’t are only important for what they represent.” He held out his seemingly naked wrist, turning his hand back and forth as if showing off a piece of jewelry before referencing the expensive bracelet Margret was currently hiding beneath her sleeves. “More than likely whoever owned that wasn’t depending on selling it to put food on the table.”
…probably. He judged silently. He cleared his throat.
“So I’m not going to hurt your friends. I’m not going take back any of the gifts they brought you and I’m certainly not going to take your friends away from you. You made a nice home for them. They seem happy here. And, as you might have guessed, I don’t like taking things that can’t be replaced when I don’t have to. So, when I exit your front door… nothing changes: Roger has a city filled with shoes, Maude has a mysterious reputation to maintain, and you have a nice home to keep all three of you safe and warm.
“Why would anyone want to change that…?”
He brushes his hands against the hem of his pants and looks towards the door, clearly signaling a willingness to see himself out unless the host insisted for him to stay.
“Maybe once we get my friend back, she’ll want to come to visit Roger herself. If that happens, I’ll let the three of you decide where he should live.”
Ethan smiled contentedly.
Episode navigation
Back to: