[Arry]

Andwise watched the little scene unfold with a knowing half smile on his face. ‘Smitten by a lass in breeches! Get them every time!’ he thought to himself, nodding at the recollection of his own dear Lily one of the first times he’d seen her. Out in the fields, she was, and it was haying time. Her hand scythe went swishing rhythmically through the sheaves of hay she’d grasped in one hand. It had been near evening, the sun dipping down to the land’s rim. And there she was backlit against it. He’d thought her another of the lads, at first, til he neared her, and she raised up, seeing him, her bright smile flashing out in the low light. He remembered how she’d drawn off the kerchief that held back her curls and shook them out in the waning light. And how they caught the last of it, glinting merrily at him. He was utterly transfixed by her . . . a dangerous lass of sorts in breeches, her skin rosy from the effort of the work. She laughed, breaking the spell she’d put him under, only to pull him in deeper as she waved to him. How odd he must have looked to her, he thought. And what simple magics she had woven since, that kept her memory so fresh for him and so happy.

He sighed, wishing again that she was still with him. And in a way, he granted, she was. Even now, he fell to talking to her . . . asking if she remembered that day. His mind echoed her laughter, making him believe she did recall and yes . . . was still near him.

Leaving the Big Folk to get on with their merry meeting, he eased about the group, continuing on to the Inn. ‘A mug and a pipe,’ he thought to himself as he climbed the stairs to the Dragon and entered. ‘That’s what I need right now. The door is done and hung, the little cottage all painted, waiting only to dry now.’ He’d just stepped up to the bar to place his order when he caught sight of Ferdy and his companions reading some list tacked up on one of the Common Room beams.

‘What’s this!’ he asked coming over to them, his mug in hand. Ferdy pointed at a few items still left on Cook’s volunteer list. ‘Look, Da!’ the lad said running his finger down the line of ‘jobs’. ‘There’s a number of things to be done about the Inn for the handfasting. We’re thinking of taking up one or two . . . help out, so to speak.’

‘Be nearer Ginger, so to speak is what he really means,’ whispered Gil to Fallon. ‘Of course,’ pointed out Fallon, nodding to the bar, ‘we’ll be much closer to the ale, too.’ ‘Good point!’ agreed Tomlin and Ferrin. ‘And much closer to the food, as well.’