Early the next morning, with packs loaded, weapons oiled, wrapped, or otherwise tended, the 4 adventurers met at the small grove near Ysel’s house. Isa was pleased to see that Lund had an elvencraft breastplate to match her own. He had new knee-high boots and a light gray cloak.

Mery was dressed in new supple armor and a cloak of light purple with ivory ribbon trim. Her boots looked like they’d walked many miles, but the laces were new. She had a flute looped over one shoulder. Isa had never heard Mery play an instrument, but of course she’d be good at it; Mery was good at everything she did.

Isa and Alice had dressed silently this morning. The quest and the inherent dangers were suddenly all Isa could think about. But why should that be? She was no longer a newbie, no longer a level 1 fighter trying to understand Varana.

Alice made a sound as she blew her hair from her eyes, and Isa realized that’s what had changed. She had Alice to worry about. Not that she’d ever say that aloud, but the stakes of survival, of success, were greater now because she was sharing them with the person she loved.

There in the grove the 4 of them nodded to each other in greeting, and for a moment Isa wondered if anyone was going to speak, but then Mery twitched an eyebrow and said, “Nice cloak,” to Isa.

“Same at you. I like the piping.”

“The what?”

“The ribbon. That’s called piping when it’s used to decorate edges like that. Cakes, cloaks…. Probably other stuff too.” Isa ducked her head, suddenly embarrassed to be talking stitchery. “It doesn’t matter,” she mumbled.

Alice laced her arm through Isa’s. “I love you,” she said softly.

Just then Fara, the elven ranger, and two other elves joined them in the grove. “Are you ready for the journey?” she asked them. “Do you have all that you require?” Fara’s voice seemed oddly high and stilted as if she were reciting lines from a play. They all nodded. “Very well.” She motioned to one of the other elves, and he walked to the large tree and began to chant.

Isa stepped closer to Fara. “Where’s Ysel? Are we leaving now?”

“You go,” Fara raised her voice to address all 4 of them, “with the Lady’s blessing. All of Lockwood journeys with you in our hearts.”

“But not in your bodies where it might do us some good.” Mery’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Thank you,” Alice bowed to Fara.

From the corner of her eye Isa saw the pale green glow of the tree portal. “You will step out at the Last Inn,” Fara went on. “The Lady is well known there, and you will be among friends.”

“Alright then,” Isa said. “Thanks, and uh, see you later.” She walked past Fara and through the portal, hoping the others would follow at her heels.

Isa left the warm sun of the Lockwood grove and with one step, she entered the windy area called the Hinter. There to the left sat the Last Inn. Although the name made it seem like a dire place, the Last Inn was large, well-kept, and inviting. Isa stepped to the side and waited for her friends.

Alice came through right behind Isa. She grabbed Isa’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze. Next came Lund with Mery right behind. As they watched, the portal faded to nothing.

“Well, there’s that,” said Mery. “We’re hundreds of miles from the grove now.”

“Have you ever been here?” Isa asked Lund, and as the words left her mouth she realized she sounded fearful. She didn’t feel fearful. Apprehensive maybe but not fearful.

“Nah,” he shook his head. “Never ventured this far north. Never wanted to. But it’s pretty enough I guess.” With his chin he gestured at the inn. “Let’s get out of this wind.” He started toward the inn, bent slightly at the waist to cut the wind. After a moment Isa and the others followed.

The inn had a wide porch on the front with solid wooden panels every 3 or 4 feet. As Isa climbed the stairs to the door she saw that the panels were set in grooves on the railings. Protection from wind and storm or from attacks? Or maybe both.

Lund yanked open the door and held it for Isa, Alice, and Mery to walk through. Light blazed throughout the common area. Two large fireplaces anchored each end and a huge brass brazier sat squat in the middle of the room. Fat white candles sat on each table, and overhead 4 chandeliers shone a warm yellow light.

“Well here’s a tale to tell!” A large man stood behind the bar. A clean white apron covered his ample stomach. “Welcome friends. Welcome to the Last Inn. Culler Carson’s my name. This is my inn.” He spread his arms. “Food? Drink? Beds? What do you require?”

“All 3, I think,” said Lund. “At least for one night.” He glanced at Mery who said, “This is Isa’s party, not mine.”

Isa stepped to the bar. “How much for 3 rooms and board?”

He looked at the group for a moment as if calculating. “10 gold for beds, meals, and all the mead you can drink.”

Isa glanced at Mery and Lund. “Seems fair,” Lund said. “Though who can drink a lot of mead?”

“Does that include breakfast?” Isa put her hand on her coin pouch. Ysel had given her a 100 gold for provisions.

“Sure. We’re simple folk up here at the end of the world, but we’ll fill your bellies. We know how to do that.”

“I’m Isa, that’s Lund, Alice, and Mery. We’ve come from--”

“Lockwood by the look of you. All decked out with fine clothes and fine weapons, and not a one of you an elf. That’s interesting.”

Mery sat at the bar and crossed her arms. “What’s it to you who we are and what we carry? A body could get worried thinking she might get robbed of a night.” She traced a finger along the wood grain of the bar. “Thoughts like that could be bad for business. If people thought that an innkeeper might pilfer a traveler's things, well--”

Stolen story; please report.

Isa sat down beside Mery. “Forgive my friend Mr. Carson was it? She’s from the city and doesn't trust anyone.”

“No offense taken. But the same could be said for a poor innkeep. Well-armed strangers under his roof and him with barely a copper to spare.”

“Barely a--” Mery started to respond, but Alice said loudly, “Are these magical?” She pointed at the chandeliers.

“Well, yes. Yes, they are. But that doesn’t mean I’m rich! Had a wizard fellow stopped by regularly for a few years. We took a trade, him and me.”

“We’ll take a table and dinner by the fire.” Lund pointed at a round table in the corner. “Are we your only guests for the night?”

“Hard to say. Expecting a group of miners any day. And there are the locals. They’ll seep in later.”

“Locals?” Isa cocked her head. “Who lives up here?”

“Lots of folks. Everybody has to live somewhere, why not the Hinter?” He waved Isa and Mery away. “Join your friend. I’ll be along with mead soon enough.”

Alice and Lund were shedding their packs, leaning bags and weapons at the wall by the table. Lund grabbed a chair, rotated it, and sat facing the fire. “You got me here. I still don’t quite believe it.”

Mery pulled a chair beside Lund. “Remember our first adventure? This isn’t so different.” She gestured at the crackling fire. “Remember? You trying to strike a fire with me shivering beside you.”

Carson placed a jug of mead on the table and 4 squat clay mugs. “I’ll bring bread and nuts directly. Dinner’s not for another 3 hours. Meat’s got to roast.”

Alice poured mead into all 4 cups. She lifted one to her nose and sniffed. “I haven’t had mead since college.”

“Ren Faire?” Isa said smiling.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Alice took a sip. “Hmmm, it’s not as sweet as I expected. This is more like wine.”

They sat by the fire, and Alice said, “How did you two meet anyway?”

“That’s no easy answer. The very first time, he heckled my song and--”

Lund interrupted. “I did not! But her playing warranted it.” Lund took a drink of mead, made a slight face, and set it on the table. “Too dry! Picture it - I’m sitting in a tavern with my friends….”

“Most moth-eaten group of mercenaries you ever saw, Isa.” Mery’s eyes shone with laughter.

“We were perhaps a little travel-stained.” He leaned toward Alice. “I’ll give her that. We were only 2 days’ march from battle. We wanted food, drink, and something to take our minds off fighting.”

“Where was this?” asked Alice.

“When was this?” asked Isa.

“10 years ago, give or take.” Mery shrugged.

“So you were pretty young.”

“We both were,” said Lund. “But that doesn’t excuse her singing.”

Mery settled back in her chair and told them the story. She had been part of a traveling show working the west coast of Varana. It was her first time away from her family troupe. “I was thrilled, and scared, and loving every minute,” she said. “I was low on the bill. Or rather, high on the bill. I think I was the 3rd act to play. I was terrible.”

As a part of her family’s traveling show Mery had mostly acted, with an occasional stint as a 3rd voice or backup strings. That hadn’t stopped her from jumping at the chance to join Master Frizzle’s Traveling Proscenium. He was an old friend of her father’s. Franka Frizzle, gnome, magician, master storyteller, part-time wizard, and full-time huckster. Mery learned more in that summer than in all her previous 16 years.

But this was early on, maybe the 3rd or 4th town on the tour. “And I took myself too seriously. I had this act that was--”

Lund interrupted. “She got up on stage with a lute that was almost as big her. And she--”

“It wasn’t my lute. I worked with what I had, now didn’t I?” Mery took a sip of mead and sat forward. “Picture the scene,” she told them. The inn had been packed with travelers and soldiers. At first Mery and the troupe had been thrilled to see that every seat was filled. Frizzle scurried around behind the purple curtain giving advice, adjusting costumes, swapping the hats that the twin jugglers were wearing, and generally succeeding in making everyone, even the veteran performers, nervous.

It was he who shoved the lute into Mery’s hands. “Strum it a bit, lass.” He patted her shoulder. “It might distract them.”

Before Mery could ask what he meant, the second act, the jugglers, was going on, and Mery stood in the wings, clutching the lute. Her act was a stew of monologue, folk songs, bits of famous speeches, and her finale: the fight scene of The Borrowed Brothers.

“Do you know it?” Mery asked Isa and Alice. “Do they have that where you’re from?” They looked at each other and shrugged. “Ah, fair enough,” said Mery.

The fight scene, she told them, is famous for both its longevity and its weapons. The brothers - they aren’t really brothers, but that’s another story - fight in a kitchen. One uses a knife and the other has a pot lid as a shield and a spatula as a sword. And they fight for a good 5 minutes, ranging all over the stage, on tables, under tables, ducking behind chairs….

“But,” said Lund, “she didn’t have any of that. No chairs, no table, no pot, no lid. And she’s up there on her own!” He held up a finger. “1 girl, playing 2 brothers. With imaginary weapons.”

“It was art! It was art,” Mery said to Isa. “I was trying to show the futility of aggression and the limits of actions as a substitute for language.” She paused. “I was 16.”

“That’s actually a pretty good excuse,” said Alice.

“I like her,” Mery said to Isa.

“Right,” said Isa, “we get the idea. Performance art in front of a bunch of drunk soldiers.”

Lund’s group was the largest table in the tavern. They’d been eating and drinking since lunch, and time and effort had not slowed them. They’d tossed bread rolls at the jugglers, trying to hit the balls in the air. They’d sung along with the bard who’d come on before, and now, here was young Mery with her huge lute.

“I didn’t even get to the fight scene. I was halfway through the speech that General Endelish gave to his troops before the Battle of Haven Hill, and--”

“In hindsight….” Lund said and trailed off.

“In hindsight I should have skipped the speech that the great elven general gave before his army slaughtered hundreds of orcs and half-orcs.”

Alice covered her mouth, and Isa looked from Mery to Lund. He shrugged. “The Battle of Haven Hill was a long time ago.”

“That was not the attitude of his fellow soldiers,” said Mery. “We had the start of a right good brawl on our hands, but Lund, he--”

“All I did was remind a couple of the really boisterous ones to mind their manners.”

“He knocked them out cold.” Mery took a sip of mead. “No one else wanted to tangle with him after that.”

Alice smiled. “So you finished your set, bought him a drink, and--”

“Gods no,” said Mery. “I ran off the stage, out the door, and hid in one of the wagons until morning.”

Lund nodded and reached for the loaf of bread that Carson had brought over. He tore off a hunk. “True enough,” he said between bites.

“That’s not the story I was expecting to hear.” Alice looked from one to the other. “That doesn’t get you quite here, does it?”