The gravel road began to turn to a muddy mess as they walked a short way down the path. The rain picked up to a near downpour as they reached a nearly imperceptible dirt path branching off the main road. The branches of the tall trees broke some of the rain, but still left heavy drops falling down on them and strong gusts funneled down the narrow path cutting through even her thick jacket and blasting cold air up her dress, sending chills down her spine. Mud splashed up over the cuffs of her boots. She was shivering by the time she saw glowing windows through the trees on the horizon.

She kept her head down as they followed the rows of cottages until they reached the only two story building as far as she could see, the tavern.

Through the door, she was greeted by a welcome heat on her face from a large hearth at the center of the room. The room smelled of ale and spices.

“Give me your jacket. It’s soaked.” She turned to see Zaramir had taken off his own jacket and was holding it over his arm. In a lower voice he added, “I’ll get us a room and dry them in private.” He wore a long sleeved shirt under his jacket that concealed his runebinds. She didn’t know why she hadn’t expected it. She knew who she was traveling with but no one else ever could and that many Runebinds would beg unanswerable questions.

She took off her backpack and peeled off the soaked jacket, only realizing how heavy it had grown once it was off. She handed it off to Zaramir, “Thank you.” The heat from the fire began to warm and dry her damp skin.

The tavern was fairly busy for a village this size. The main floor was perhaps the size of Zaramir’s dining room, but the hearth took up a large portion of the floorspace, making the dozen people around it feel like a crowd. She had hated crowds when she was young but now she couldn’t be more happy to be near this many humans.

Zaramir weaved through the crowd, keeping his arms near his body, slipping between the masses as though they were covered in thorns. He was very clear he disliked crowds as much as she had in her youth.

She followed him, not caring as she brushed shoulders with the townspeople, to a long bar on the far end of the room where the barkeep was busy filling steins for a rowdy party at the end opposite them.

The barkeep didn’t acknowledge them or perhaps he just didn’t notice them over the noise of the two pairs of couples demanding he move faster.

Only after he passed off the mugs to the group yelling at him for being incompetent, did he return to greet them, “What can I do for you?” His tone was on the cusp of being rude but he maintained an indifferent expression. By his tired eyes and pursed lips of a barely contained outburst, it had been a long night.

“We need rooms for the night.” Zaramir returned his tone.

“Please.” Corabelle added and she noticed his expression softened just a touch.

“Sorry, but we only have one room left.” He stated, shortly. “With the festival tomorrow, you’re lucky we have that.” He then added as if to justify.

“If that’s what you have I suppose it will do.” Zaramir said, sliding a neat column of coins across the bar from the pocket of his jacket.

The barkeep reached under the bar, and slapped a tarnished iron key down, and took the top coin from the small pile, “Room 2, second floor.” He said. “I’m guessing the rest of this is for dinner and drinks?” He nodded down at the remaining stack. “Cause we don’t deliver to rooms.”

“Miss Cora, why don’t you stay down here and have dinner and I'll head up to the room.” Zaramir ignored the bartender.

“Do you want me to bring you anything when I come up?” She questioned.

“I’m not hungry.” he told her, taking the key, and heading up the wooden stairs.

She took a seat at the bar, enjoying the hearth warming her back.

“So are you gonna order something or…” The barkeep's tone was sarcastic but his expression was now a joking smile.

“Oh, right.” She laughed, glancing up at the plain, handwritten menu board behind him.

“So it did end up raining huh?” He questioned as she read.

“What gave it away?” she joked, pushing her soaking braid over her shoulder so it would stop dripping on the bar.

“A hunch,” he laughed, swiping the water away with the rag draped over his shoulder. “But hey you’re saving me some time cleaning later so don’t worry too much about the water. Any ideas what you want to eat?”

“I could eat anything really,” She answered. “Whatever you suggest is fine by me.”

His responding laugh was quickly drowned out by the rest of the noise around them, “If only everyone here was that easy to deal with.” He nodded to a table in the far corner. “They asked for something we had on our menu three years ago… in the spring.”

“Let me guess, it had seasonal produce?”

“Mhmm.” He rolled his eyes. “And of course they screamed at me for not being able to make it.”

“Charming.” She glanced over to the table. The men seated there were dressed much nicer than the barkeep. In a village this small, people wouldn’t be dressed that nice which means they came from out of town, likely for whatever festival was happening tomorrow.

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“Isn’t it just?” He rolled his eyes with an amused chuckle. “Anyway, I’ll put in that order for you. You prefer wine or ale?”

“Ale’s fine.” She answered.

“Good choice, because the wine’s not great.” He said in a false whisper that could be easily overheard by anyone nearby. He then headed over to the tap, shouting an order for one of the dishes on the menu back to the small kitchen off the bar. He poured a stein of the ale, returning to her with it.

“Thanks.” She smiled, taking a sip. It’d been so long since she’d had a drink she’d forgotten how bitter ale was, but she didn’t mind. There was a rich warmth behind it that helped ease the remaining chill of the rain.

“That guy you’re with, he said your name was Cora right?” He inquired. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s you and that guy’s deal?”

She wiped the ale foam from the top of her lip with the back of her hand, “What do you mean?” She questioned in response.

“If it’s not too forward, is he your husband or what? He asked for separate rooms so I'm hoping that he’s not.” He rested his elbows on the bartop.

“Oh,” She felt her cheeks grow warm. “No he’s not anything like that, we’re just traveling together.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He replied, flashing a flirtatious smile. “If that’s the case, if you don’t want to stay in that room tonight, I might be able to make room in my quarters.”

Before she had a chance to politely turn him down, a wooden cane came out of nowhere, whacking him in the back of the head with enough force to create a satisfying ‘thunk’.

He jumped back, “Ow, hey!” He rubbed the back of his head.

The origin of the swing was a little old lady who had swooped in blindingly fast from seemingly nowhere, “How many times I’ve I told you to leave the girls alone!” She slammed the end of her cane on the wooden floor with a decisive thud.

“I just--” He started but was interrupted.

“Miss, do you happen to be a secret love of my grandson here? Perhaps you’ve been together for weeks and we didn’t know about it?” The question was dripping in syrupy thick sarcasm. “Because if that’s the case I’ll gladly leave you two love birds alone to ride off into the sunset.”

“No. I’m sorry. We just met.” She replied to the old woman, trying to not laugh.

“Oh, you just met tonight, you say?” She drawled, glaring at her grandson. “Is that how you talk to a woman you just met? Go clean dishes!” She jabbed her cane toward the kitchen.

He looked like he was about to speak in his defence but quickly shut his mouth as the old woman’s eyes narrowed in a silent threat, “Yes grandma.” He retreated to the kitchen like a scolded dog.

“I apologize about my grandson.” The old woman turned to Corabelle. “I know his mother raised him better than that.”

“It’s alright.” She replied, taking another drink.

“You’re much too kind, but it’s not alright. I’ll be having a talk with him. In the meantime, your meal is on the house and I'll take care of you for the rest of the evening.” She smiled, deep dimples appearing on her round cheeks that were haloed by beautiful grey curls.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I insist.” she poured another glass of ale sliding it down the bar to Corabelle. “Can I get you a potion to sleep more soundly tonight? I believe I heard you’re staying here tonight? I offer that much to all our overnight guests.”

“A potion? You’re an alchemist?” Corabelle was shocked she didn’t recall any alchemical houses in this region.

“Sure am. Not half bad if I say so myself. I never had much talent with spells, but I know my way around a garden.” She replied, pulling a small vial of blue liquid out of her pocket and bringing it over to Corabelle. “Our mattresses may not be the best quality but this will make them feel as if they were made for royalty. Nifty little potion to cut down on innkeeping costs.” She whispered with that same, wise smile. “And did I hear you’re staying with someone else?” She pulled another vial out, setting it next to the first.

“You have good hearing.” Corabelle laughed.

“I may be blind as a bat, but my hearing is just as good as one,” the old woman chortled. “Let me go see about your food, dear.” Then she hobbled off toward the kitchen at a speed that made her sudden appearance in the first place all the more impressive.

Corabelle finished the first ale and started on the second as the old woman brought out the meal the bartender had called in which turned out to be a smoked meat dish with a side of potatoes. It smelled amazing, better than anything she’d been able to make for herself.

“You’ll be pleased to know my daughter is giving him an even better talking to than I could have done. If you think I'm tough, gods have mercy on that boy,” The old woman laughed as she set down the dish. “And she prepared this with extra large portion sizes for your trouble.”

“Tell her thank you for me.” Corabelle said, taking a bite. It tasted even better than it smelled. “And tell her it’s fantastic.”

“I will.” The old woman beamed. “Now if you’ll excuse me I have to tend to the other patrons, but don’t hesitate to shout if you need anything.” Then she headed off toward the table of well dressed men who were trying to get anyone's attention for service.

Corabelle finished the meal almost faster than the woman finished taking the other table’s order. She left the pile of coins, not willing to let the meal go unpaid for, as she went upstairs taking the vials the woman had given her with her.

She found Zaramir sitting at the simple desk in the small room, writing in a plain paged small book. The coats were draped over the desk, both dry.

He glanced up, “What’s in your hand?” he asked, looking at the potions.

“An old woman who works here is an alchemist and she said they would make the bed more comfortable.” She shrugged, the ale and large meal already making her tired enough.

He squinted suspiciously at the vials, “Can I see them?”

She handed them off to him. He popped the cork on one taking a sniff, then dabbing at it with the tip of his finger taking a taste.

He laughed a sharp, almost mean, laugh, “Smart woman. These are liquor, not a potion, but I do agree this quantity of something this strong and any bed will feel comfortable.”

She scowled, feeling slightly offended but she didn’t know whether it was from the old woman's lie, his callous laugh, or her own naivety to believe her.

Instead she changed the topic, “What do you plan to do all night since you’re not sleeping?”

“I usually have to stay in place each night so they don’t get suspicious. In the past I've put myself to sleep with magic if I get too bored, but with only one bed, I’ll find something to do.” He picked up one of the packs from the floor near the desk, extending it to her. “I packed your nightwear if you’d like to get ready for bed.”

She took the bag, digging through it and pulling out the white nightgown. “Thanks.” She ducked into the small washroom off the mainroom. It barely had enough room for her to turn around. But she managed to use some of the water provided in a pitcher to clean the mud from her legs and get changed.

She returned to the main room. She found Zaramir, eyes closed, head propped against the wall, notebook falling from his loose grip. He was unconscious.