The Vineyard Tavern

[Ealasaide]

Rochadan ducked as the falcon flew low over his head and dropped the scroll at Andhun's feet. Seeing the boy pick it up and tack it to the front door of the inn, Rochadan felt a strong sinking sensation in his stomach. He exchanged a somber glance with Bragorn, then lowered his head and climbed quickly down the ladder. Forgetting the alleged crankiness of the ladder, Bragorn and Ærosylle followed. For once, Bragorn was quiet.

By the time Rochadan reached the door and the scroll, Andhun had already been joined by Cynan, Andhun’s friend of earlier in the day. Both boys seemed to be trying very hard to put a brave face on what was very bad news. Rochadan gave them each a nervous smile, then leaned forward to read the notice. As his dark eyes reached the end, the part about the property being bought out by Harsten of all people, Rochadan’s face flushed with rage. It was such an insult that this place that he and Finian had rebuilt from the ashes with their own hands should go to such a monster... and to be used as a place for manufacturing.

Behind him, Bragorn blew out a long breath. “Harsten... oy, that’s an ugly thing for sure. And the inn seemed so prosperous, too.” He shook his head.

The first flash of rage passed, Rochadan just nodded, speechless. He had known that Finian was struggling, but he had had no idea that things had come to such a point. Finian had said nothing about it, shouldering all of the worry on his own. Rochadan shook his head. “If only Finian had said something...” he said at last. “I have a bit of money saved up. I might have been able to, if not prevent this, put it off long enough for us to find a decent buyer for the place. Someone who might preserve the place and keep it open as an inn. But this!” He threw up his hand.

Bragorn again shook his head. “What will you do?” he asked quietly.

Rochadan shrugged. “Go back to riding, I suppose.” Pausing, he looked around the crowded yard. As his gaze happened upon Andhun, whom he had briefly forgotten in the wake of reading the terrible news, he forced a smile back on to his face. Walking over to the two boys, he nodded to Cynan and placed a hand on Andhun’s shoulder.

“You mustn’t be afraid, Andhun,” he said kindly. “You will always have a home with me and with Sallie. Before I took care of the stables here at the Vineyard, I was a rider and a long distance messenger, like Bragorn here. I can always go back to it.” His face softened. “In fact, the pay is much better. With the money I make, I can easily afford a little cottage here in Esgaroth for us to live in. If you would come along, it would be of tremendous help to me, too. You see, if I return to the road, I shall need someone around to play with Sallie. She is very fond of you already.”

“But, sir,” Andhun began to object softly.

Rochadan gave the boy’s shoulder a squeeze. “Of course, you would not be left alone. I shall have to find a housekeeper, too, but I have friends about town. Here at the inn, even. And your friend Cynan, here, would always be welcome to come about. It will work out. So, what do you say? Can I count on you?”