The Green Dragon Inn - Part 3

[Envinyatar]

‘I do wish to hear the rest of your story, Derufin.’ Piosenniel’s grey eyes regarded his face as he turned back to her from the door.

What could he do but acquiesce. He returned to the kitchen and from there to the springhouse for yet another glass of the iced tea for her. From behind the bar, he grabbed a tall bottle of Southron wine. Rich, and red as blood spilled on a battlefield.

‘Your drink, m’lady,’ he said setting the sweating glass on the small table to the side of her chair. He pulled up another chair to the open window and propped his booted feet on the window’s sill. The cork slid easily from the bottle neck, and he made a small ceremony of pouring the wine into his glass, admiring it with eye, nose, and tongue. He held the glass aloft, the crisp clink of glass on glass breaking the silence of the ritual.

‘To my companions at Pellenor!’ He took a small sip of the wine, then raised it once again. ‘And to you, m’lady and your wee bairns.’ This time he took a longer drink, then set down the near empty glass on the tabletop between the chairs.

He crossed his ankles, still propped on the sill, and sat with his fingers laced across his midriff, staring out through the window. His eyes were not focused on what lay beyond, but rather his sight turned inward, bringing from past to present in one small leap, the freshened memories of that return home. He gathered in his breath quietly, and gave a soft, weighty sigh.

‘Now, where shall I begin . . .’