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Rimbaud · 12-05-2002, 09:53 AM

Murmurs swelled around the Inn as the messenger repaired to the bar and sat unobtrusively on a tall stool. Patrons turned to each other and discussed the missive. The parchment was peered at and prodded a good deal. The Inn was humming with intrigue, rumour and good humour...

*************************************************

The doors to the Inn were flung open. They slammed against the walls to either side of the doorframe with a simultaneous and resounding crash. People jumped to their feet, hands grasped at sword belts for absent weapons. The Elf Piosenniel stood adjusting her sleeve demurely, but she was leaning forward, attention on the door intently. Mithadan had swept to his feet smoothly and taken two steps towards the door way, cloak billowing in the cold gusts from outside until the figure in the doorway was discerned.

It was the Innkeeper, but he did not appear the neat and reserved character of scant minutes previous. Those who had seen him enter the kitchens earlier looked puzzled at his entrance through the front. Rimbaud looked disheveled and frantic, the wind had blown his hair wildly and he appeared to be at a loss for words. He moved inside the Inn swiftly and, with some difficulty, pulled the doors shut and bolted them. He then turned, leaning against the wood panels of the dark doors, panting. All eyes were on him. He appeared to gather himself and straighten his hair and adjust his tunic.

Without explanation, he strode to his desk and sat, in his customary position, head downcast, although few believed they escaped his attention. One had seen his hand gestures and knew them of old. She rose swiftly and moved to the edge of the great black desk. Her deep blue cowl still shaded her face from view. She stood patiently, hands clasped in front of her. Her thick, rich blue robes hung down to the floor.. Slowly, the uncomfortable air in the Inn abated, and low conversation resumed. Mithadan returned to his seat. The wizard nearby studied the Innkeeper intently but did not rise and did not speak.

************************************

She watched him intently, noting the stretched and drawn nature of his face, flushed from the cold air outside. He sat silently, head bowed. Her keen eyes saw the thickness of the texts on the desk and the worn nature of the quills set along the rim of his well-appointed desk, and she wondered at them. What writings are these? Yet she left the question unasked, although he surely saw her gaze.

Finally he motioned with his hand, rose and made his way through yet another small wooden door, to the left of the great fireplace this time, and led her up the wooden staircase there. She followed, swallowing her irritation at his presumption and his overly mysterious air.

When they entered his rooms above the common room, she pulled down her hood and shook loose her hair. When she was composed, she faced him and said firmly, "Now, Master Innkeeper, tell me what message I brought to you, to send you so far from decorum."

Rimbaud stood by the window, looking outward. The room was silent, although below them they heard the Inn resuming normal service.

"The message was a warning," he began. She quelled an urge to question him, and instead shifted her robes and sat on the wooden chair at the functional desk. She turned slightly to look up at him, framed by the cold grey of the outside through the window. She saw his jaw clench and unclench and a muscle jump in his cheek. She missed little.

He sighed and spoke again, calmly, clearly having mastered himself again. "The message was a warning, sent from an unknown source - it is for this reason I need to question you. It led me to a place within the Star that I had not been for many a year."

The well-dressed lady said nothing, her face remaining composed. She knew something of the secrets of the Inn but volunteered little.

"But more than that," he went on, "More than that, I need your help with a puzzle. A riddle that scares me - yet fascinates me, I do not deny. You have the knowledge that I...that the Inn needs to guarantee its safety."

Princess Estelyn of the House Telcontar looked at him squarely, her eyes on his. "I will help you, for the sake of our friendship." Her voice gained an intensity. "But! I will not risk my life on half-tales and hearsay from thee, Master Innkeeper. I know your past too well to think of you as a simple publican. Tell me fully and tell me now."

He turned from the window and told her.

************************************************** *****

To read of what happened to Rimbaud and the Princess, and of the future of the Inn, see here.

[ December 06, 2002: Message edited by: Rimbaud ]

12-05-2002, 09:53 AM	#64
Rimbaud The Perilous Poet Join Date: Apr 2002 Location: Heart of the matter Posts: 1,096	Murmurs swelled around the Inn as the messenger repaired to the bar and sat unobtrusively on a tall stool. Patrons turned to each other and discussed the missive. The parchment was peered at and prodded a good deal. The Inn was humming with intrigue, rumour and good humour... *********************************************** The doors to the Inn were flung open. They slammed against the walls to either side of the doorframe with a simultaneous and resounding crash. People jumped to their feet, hands grasped at sword belts for absent weapons. The Elf Piosenniel stood adjusting her sleeve demurely, but she was leaning forward, attention on the door intently. Mithadan had swept to his feet smoothly and taken two steps towards the door way, cloak billowing in the cold gusts from outside until the figure in the doorway was discerned. It was the Innkeeper, but he did not appear the neat and reserved character of scant minutes previous. Those who had seen him enter the kitchens earlier looked puzzled at his entrance through the front. Rimbaud looked disheveled and frantic, the wind had blown his hair wildly and he appeared to be at a loss for words. He moved inside the Inn swiftly and, with some difficulty, pulled the doors shut and bolted them. He then turned, leaning against the wood panels of the dark doors, panting. All eyes were on him. He appeared to gather himself and straighten his hair and adjust his tunic. Without explanation, he strode to his desk and sat, in his customary position, head downcast, although few believed they escaped his attention. One had seen his hand gestures and knew them of old. She rose swiftly and moved to the edge of the great black desk. Her deep blue cowl still shaded her face from view. She stood patiently, hands clasped in front of her. Her thick, rich blue robes hung down to the floor.. Slowly, the uncomfortable air in the Inn abated, and low conversation resumed. Mithadan returned to his seat. The wizard nearby studied the Innkeeper intently but did not rise and did not speak. ********************************** She watched him intently, noting the stretched and drawn nature of his face, flushed from the cold air outside. He sat silently, head bowed. Her keen eyes saw the thickness of the texts on the desk and the worn nature of the quills set along the rim of his well-appointed desk, and she wondered at them. What writings are these? Yet she left the question unasked, although he surely saw her gaze. Finally he motioned with his hand, rose and made his way through yet another small wooden door, to the left of the great fireplace this time, and led her up the wooden staircase there. She followed, swallowing her irritation at his presumption and his overly mysterious air. When they entered his rooms above the common room, she pulled down her hood and shook loose her hair. When she was composed, she faced him and said firmly, "Now, Master Innkeeper, tell me what message I brought to you, to send you so far from decorum." Rimbaud stood by the window, looking outward. The room was silent, although below them they heard the Inn resuming normal service. "The message was a warning," he began. She quelled an urge to question him, and instead shifted her robes and sat on the wooden chair at the functional desk. She turned slightly to look up at him, framed by the cold grey of the outside through the window. She saw his jaw clench and unclench and a muscle jump in his cheek. She missed little. He sighed and spoke again, calmly, clearly having mastered himself again. "The message was a warning, sent from an unknown source - it is for this reason I need to question you. It led me to a place within the Star that I had not been for many a year." The well-dressed lady said nothing, her face remaining composed. She knew something of the secrets of the Inn but volunteered little. "But more than that," he went on, "More than that, I need your help with a puzzle. A riddle that scares me - yet fascinates me, I do not deny. You have the knowledge that I...that the Inn needs to guarantee its safety." Princess Estelyn of the House Telcontar looked at him squarely, her eyes on his. "I will help you, for the sake of our friendship." Her voice gained an intensity. "But! I will not risk my life on half-tales and hearsay from thee, Master Innkeeper. I know your past too well to think of you as a simple publican. Tell me fully and tell me now." He turned from the window and told her. ************************************************ *** To read of what happened to Rimbaud and the Princess, and of the future of the Inn, see here. [ December 06, 2002: Message edited by: Rimbaud ] __________________ And all the rest is literature Last edited by Rimbaud; 09-21-2005 at 09:58 AM.