Chapter 2
The seagulls flew overhead, and I could see the bustling town on the shore. There were women in dresses with aprons and big white hats that looked a little like folded napkins, and men in pants that were a little too tight for my liking. At least the air smelled more fresh than anywhere I’d ever been in my life.
“Well, son?” the man laughed again. “Haven’t you got a name?”
I sat up, and the boat rocked back and forth slightly. I was more careful and deliberate about my movements as I sat up straighter and swept my wet hair out of my face.
“My name’s T-Tyler,” I said, and I looked at the old man.
It was a gorgeous day, wherever the hell I was. If I really was anywhere. As far as I knew, I might’ve hit my head on the side of the beer vat and gone straight to heaven.
But despite how surreal this place felt, I was definitely there. I could smell fish, I could see pretty women on the shore washing sheets in big wooden crates, and I could feel the sun shining on my back. It was incredibly beautiful, and a lot more detailed than any dream I’d had before.
“Tyler,” the man said, and he looked like he chewed on the word for a little before approving of it. “You know, I’ve never met a Tyler before in my life. You from around here?”
“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “I don’t even know where around here is.”
“My my, you must’ve taken a very bad plunge,” the man replied as he squinted at me. “But then again, Tyler, I must say, I’ve never quite seen anyone dressed like you before. Are you comfortable?”
I looked down to see my nondescript t-shirt, relatively loose-fitting jeans, and favorite sneakers. I shrugged and looked at the man, who looked like he was dressed for a renaissance fair. I frowned and looked toward the shore again, and I had to agree that compared to the rest of the locals, I was the one who looked weird.
“Uh,” I said. “Well, right now I’m pretty wet, so I’m not that comfortable.”
“It’s a good day to be wet, boy, the end of summer sunshine,” he smiled.
I blinked a few times and watched as he rustled through some tackle as if nothing had happened. I watched him for a moment, even though it was clear he wasn’t going to take me back to shore or call for an ambulance right away. But… was there even an ambulance?
The old man pulled in a net and shook his head when he saw the small fish that were caught in the rope. He sighed, released the small fish, and then started to stow the net. He didn’t even look at me again until everything was safely stowed, and then it seemed like he was just checking to see if I was still there.
“Where am I?” I finally asked as he started to row toward the shore.
“Where are you?” he snorted. “Well, you’re in Hagop of course. Best city in the world.”
Hagop. I’d never ever heard the word Hagop before, or even a word that sounded remotely like it. It was completely alien to me, and I wasn’t even sure I could identify what language it might have come from.
“Hagop,” I said as I tested out the sound. “And what’s your name?”
“Oh, of course, I’m so rude,” he replied. “I’m Johannes, and as you can see, I’m a fisherman.”
“Johannes,” I said, and I held out my wet hand. “Pleasure to meet you, and thanks for, uh… saving me.”
He removed a piece of watergrass from my hand and threw it back in the river before shaking my hand.
“No trouble at all,” he said. “But I’ll be honest. When first I saw your shadow, I did think that I was going to find an unusually large fish. I thought I’d have my supper for weeks! Or that the top buyer would. But, at least you’re safe. I don’t know what lurks at the bottom of these waters, but I’d rather not find out.”
“Well, I’m sorry I’m not a fish,” I laughed. “But I sure am grateful that you fished me out.”
He smiled at my lame joke for a moment and then turned to watch the shore. He clearly had a sixth sense about the water, because he guided the boat around some rocks and past another rowboat with barely a glance.
The sound of the oars splashing against the water was the only sound as we neared the town, which reminded me of the figurines my grandmother used to collect. It was the epitome of quaint, just like the fisherman who was rowing me to shore.
It also became obvious that the people around Hagop were pretty damn short. I mean, I stood at six feet, which was tall, but not… freakishly tall. But I could swear as we got closer to land that there were full-grown adults with beards and breasts walking around who were lucky if they were five feet. It was truly bizarre. That, or my eyes were playing tricks on me.
I wondered if I’d simply ingested too much beer when I fell into the vat, but that didn’t seem like much of an explanation. I’d had more than my share of drunken nights, and I’d never experienced distorted vision before.
So, the locals were all short, which suggested that I wasn’t near the brewery anymore, because all the people I’d seen on the tour were of normal height. And that made me wonder what was happening back in Portland, where I had just disappeared from the tour and ended up in… well, in Hagop.
I had no idea how I’d gotten here, or how I’d find my way home, but maybe that could all be sorted once I reached the shore. I still had no idea where Hagop was, but as I watched it grow closer, I found I really didn’t care. There were worse things than waking up in a medieval version of a Norman Rockwell painting, and it wasn’t like there was anyone who would really miss me. My mom had been passed away for five years now since the heart attack, and I had no other family aside from that. I didn’t have a girlfriend, didn’t have a dog… I guess I wouldn’t see all the housewives at the deli anymore, but it’s not like that was my favorite part of the job anyway.
As we neared the pebble strewn shore, a few of the washerwomen waved their arms at us. Then, a few men in similar-looking garb to the fisherman waved us over and started to make their way toward the boat.
“Johannes!” one of the men called out. “Looks like you caught a big one!”
“I know!” the fisherman laughed. “He’s called Tyler!”
As the boat hit the shore, things started to actually feel real, and I wasn’t just floating around in some idyllic fantasy world anymore. This was really happening, and the second my two feet hit the ground, I knew that I was going to have to figure some things out and fast.
“Tyler,” the man on the shore said, and he shook my hand and helped me up. “Never heard a name like that before. What made you want to go swimming in the river?”
“Well, nothing really,” I said. “One minute I was back home, in Portland…”
“Port Land?” he asked. “So you hail from a place with a port. I’ve never heard of it, but it sounds like it must be far away…”
“Yeah,” I nodded and looked around once more.
It was becoming increasingly clear that this was a true medieval town and not just a tourist trap. There didn’t seem to be any modern technology anywhere, and everyone was dressed in the same old-timey clothes. There were horses pulling carts, thatch roofs, and not a single power line or cell tower to be seen, even in the distance.
Man, this was strange.
“Welcome to Hagop,” he said. “This your first time?”
“Yes,” I answered. “I… I’ve never been here before. And I’m going to need somewhere to stay for the night. You see, this is kind of an unexpected visit…”
“Ah, yes,” he nodded. “Well, you can stay at the inn down the road. It’s the best inn Hagop has to offer.”
As Johannes started unloading fish out of the boat and heaping them onto the shore, the man in front of me pointed toward a large white building with exposed beams and a chimney that was putting out a lot of smoke. There was a sign swinging from a post just above the door, but there was no name painted on it, just an image of a lamb and a star.
“What’s it called”?” I asked.
“That’s the Lamb and Star,” Johannes replied as he dropped the last of his fish over the side. “Operated by the lovely Hildegard Beecham. Here, send my regards.”
He handed me a large fish that was about three feet in length. It felt slimy in my hands, though its scales were a bright green in the sunlight.
“Oh,” I said. “But this is too kind! You don’t have to…”
“Yes, he does,” the man in front of me laughed. “He’s the best fisherman in Hagop, don’t let his modesty fool you. This is the third batch he’s dragged in today.”
“Well, you’ve been very kind to me,” I smiled. “I won’t forget this, Johannes.”
“As I said, no trouble at all,” he winked. “Well, that’s quite enough fishing for me today. Are you heading to the inn?”
“I’ve got nowhere else to be,” I shrugged. “Thanks again.”
“Farewell, Tyler,” he said. “And good luck on your journey.”
The men smiled and nodded, like strangers in the water was an everyday thing for them. They waited until I started up the road before they started to haggle over the fish that Johannes had brought in. I felt a twinge of disappointment that my sudden arrival didn’t earn more commentary from the locals, but at least they seemed friendly.
I walked carefully across the pebbles, squelched through some mud, and then finally hit dry land. I stopped to look around then, and I let myself enjoy the unfamiliar sights and sounds. I saw fruit sellers, a blacksmith, and a man leading a donkey laden with pots and pans. I could smell the river water, the faint aroma of pine, and something that reminded me of bacon. I nodded to a few people who walked by and glanced in my direction, but then my jaw fell open when I spotted the best costumes yet. Several men who were about three feet tall with long noses and slicked-back dark hair talked among themselves.
There were dwarves in Hagop, just like the ones from Lord of the Rings.
I couldn’t believe that these little dudes, who were all wearing tunics and leggings, were actually real and in front of me, but then I reminded myself that I still wasn’t sure this was real.
Maybe I had died because the longer I stayed here, the more it felt like I was stuck in a storybook, and that the real world was just a distant dream. I still thought there was a chance that this was all just an alcohol-induced dreamscape, but it was way too vivid to be something my subconscious had cooked up.
Nope. I was really here, in the flesh, looking at dwarves.
Suddenly a few of them looked up at me and lifted an eyebrow. They hurried onto the other side of the street, and I swore that I could hear them snickering to themselves.
I guess I did look pretty damn strange, since I was now just a sopping wet dude in jeans and a t-shirt carrying a large fish. I felt like one of those guys on Tinder that only posts pictures of themselves hunting or fishing. Well, now I was just that, come to life.
I squelched my way down the cobbles toward the Lamb and Star. I had no idea what to expect from the inn, and I couldn’t remember what the fisherman had called the person who ran the whole thing. I just hoped the fish would at least earn me some food and maybe a room for the night while I tried to figure out what to do next.
As I neared the inn, I was starting to earn a few more stares, and whispers followed me up the street. I tried to smile and look friendly, though I saw a couple of younger kids run away when I looked in their direction.
Well, fine, but they all looked pretty damn strange, too. The ladies wore long, neutral-toned dresses with white aprons, and some of them had tall hats that looked like the leftovers from a costume store the day before Halloween. Most of the men wore tunics, but the ones who didn’t wore large frilly blouses with big white collars and black velvet pants.
“Just keep moving forward,” I muttered as two women with conical hats stopped to stare at me.
I took a deep breath as I arrived in front of the inn, where I could hear jeering and laughing behind the big wooden door. There was a wrought-iron handle which I pressed down and then took a deep breath.
“Okay,” I said. “So everyone here looks like they stepped out of a Brothers Grimm story. And there are dwarves just roaming the streets. Maybe the inn is run by a giant cat and that’s why Johannes gave me the fish.”
There was another shout from inside the inn, and then laughter rang out again. It sounded like just about every bar I’d ever been in, and if that were true, then I could handle whatever was on the other side.
I pushed the door open and found myself in a large, dimly-lit room with a low ceiling. I could see the place was packed, and the crowd seemed evenly split between those who were just drinking and those who were also eating. At least everyone seemed happy, though that seemed to be the default state in Hagop.
Someone finally noticed that the door had opened, and then the rest of the crowd slowly turned to look. The place fell quiet as I took a few steps inside, and I looked around for anyone who could take the fish from me and tell me what the hell I was supposed to do next.
“Ummm,” I muttered as I looked around.
Men with beards were playing cards at one table, while another group looked like they were playing dice. Most of the people looked like short humans, though there was one guy in the corner with a wine glass, pointed ears, and white-blond hair. That had to be an elf, because what the hell, why not?
“No, no, no, we’re going to need more of the Pyotr House…” I heard a woman’s voice say, and suddenly a short but elegant dark-haired lady appeared from behind the bar.
She stopped in her tracks when she realized how silent everyone was, and the reason why. The woman gave me a single glance with piercing blue eyes and tut-tutted at me.
“Stop staring,” she ordered the rest of the crowd as she beckoned me over with a small, pale hand.
My savior was a very beautiful woman, with pale skin, brown hair the color of dark chocolate, and bright blue eyes that twinkled with mischief. Her face was smattered with freckles, like she’d spent her share of days working in the sun. Her dark blue dress complimented her eyes, though I noticed she hadn’t bothered with either an apron or a hat. The only other adornment she wore was the white lace ribbon that kept her hair tied back in a braid.
“Hello,” I said, and I nodded my head at the woman. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Johannes sent me.”
“Hello,” she said with a nod.
Even though she dipped her head, I could tell that she was eyeing me up. But I was clearly the tallest guy in the place, so I just smiled and glanced around.
“Umm,” I said. “Is this your inn?”
“It is,” she said. “Finest in Hagop. And you… did you just wash ashore?”
“As a matter of fact I did,” I replied in surprise. “Does that happen often around here?”
She shrugged as she looked me over again, and then she raised an eyebrow before she leaned over the bar to reveal her soft, pale décolletage.
“You’re dressed funny,” she said. “I’ve never seen a man like you before. What’s your name?”
“Tyler,” I said. “My name is Tyler King.”
“And are you a King?” she asked with a cocked head.
“Not usually,” I said. “But I’ve had a pretty strange day.”
“Looks like it,” she said, and her eyes paused on my wet chest before trailing back up to my eyes. “My name is Hildegard. Hildegard Beecham.”
“Hildegard?” I asked. “I’ve never met someone with that name before.”
“Well, if we become friends you can call me Hilly,” she said.
“Would you like to be friends?” I asked. “I could certainly use a friend in Hagop.”
“Not so quick,” she said as she stood up. “I have to get to know you before we can become friends.”
“Of course,” I agreed quickly. “Here’s the thing. I just arrived here, and I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t even know--”
“Rooms are four a night, two more for food,” she interrupted. “I have three free upstairs at the moment.”
“Ah, yes,” I nodded. “Four what?”
“Silver pieces, of course,” she said. “Can you afford that?”
I had no idea what the exchange rate was between Hagop silver pieces and the American dollar, but I had a feeling that the paper money wasn’t going to fly so well here.
“Look,” I said. “I, uh… I don’t have any silver pieces. I have some money from where I come from, in America…”
I dug my hand into my pocket and fished out my wallet, which was covered in watergrass. I opened it up and held out a flimsy twenty-dollar bill, which just looked depressing.
“No,” she shook her head. “No, I’m not familiar with whatever that is. Only gnomes accept bills of credit and only from other gnomes. And I’m afraid you can’t use it to pay. But I’ll tell you what. There’s a disused room above our old stable that you can stay in. I can offer you a rate of three silver pieces a night, including food. But you’ll have to work for your supper. You look like a strong man, you can help around here. How does that sound?”
“Perfect,” I said as a feeling of relief washed over me. “Just perfect. I can absolutely do that. I’ll be the hardest worker you ever had.”
I mean hell, maybe I would hit my head and wake up in the ICU back in Portland. But for now, room and board in exchange for some labor sounded like the best deal I was going to get. And at least I’d have something to do while I worked out where I was and how to get home.
“Oh,” I said and held up the fish. “Johannes sent this. He said to send his regards.”
“What delicious regards to send,” she said, and she gave a nod of approval to the fish. “That looks very good. Your first task can be to gut that fellow and get the cook to make us a stew. Cookhouse is out the back.”
“Perfect,” I nodded. “I know how to clean a fish.”
“Of course you do,” she shrugged. “It’s a man’s work.”
The inn owner pointed toward a back door and then picked up a wet rag and started to clean up some spilled liquid on the bar. That seemed to be the end of our conversation, so I walked through the bar and made my way to the back of the place.
A few people were obviously looking at me, but I’d gotten used to it by now. At least I wasn’t as wet anymore, and it seemed like they were more perplexed by my t-shirt and jeans and possibly my height than anything else.
I opened the back door and found that the yard behind the inn had a big stable where I assumed I’d be sleeping as well as a smaller hut with steam coming out of the chimney. I could smell herbs and bread as well, so I assumed it was the cookhouse. I walked across the packed dirt to the door and knocked, then stood back to wait for someone to answer.
“Hello?” I called out after a minute.
It didn’t smell like anything was cooking, and I wondered if the cook had gone to the market. I shrugged and knocked again, then stepped back to look around for any sign of another person.
I finally heard some bustling behind the door, and it finally swung open to reveal a very small dwarf. He had beady black eyes and wore a leather suit, and from what I could tell, he was drunk as an absolute skunk.
“Vellhummmm…” he yawned. “Dinnersss… served…”
And with that, he fell to the ground, rolled into a ball, and started snoring.
“Oh, Kitchener!” I heard a familiar voice yell, and Hildegard stood at the backdoor of the inn with her hands on her hips. “Not again!”
“It’s fine,” I laughed, and I held up the fish. “I could easily get a stew going by myself.”
Hildegard walked up to me and raised an eyebrow.
“Oh really?” she asked. “It’s not usually the work of a human man to cook in Hagop.”
“Well, where I come from, plenty of men can cook,” I assured her. “I cook for myself all the time.”
“Well, I guess it will have to do,” she said as she nudged the dwarf with her toe. “I’ve got my hands full inside.”
She placed her hands on her hips and studied me again, but she finally nodded and then crossed back to the inn. She looked back once when she reached the door, but something inside must have caught her attention because she suddenly sprinted through the door as she waved her rag in the air.
With a sigh, I stepped inside the little hut, which was little more than a basic kitchen. Most of the room was taken up by the large fireplace in the center, where a pole held a large pot of water over the flames. There were also tables with various knives, forks, and mystery implements, and plenty of pots and pans hanging from hooks in the ceiling. I had to duck down to avoid cracking my head against the tin, but I spotted a bucket in the corner that I could use to collect the fish innards and a large, sharp knife that would make quick work of the fish.
I’d learned how to clean a fish during fishing trips with my dad when I was a kid, and though I hadn’t dug out my rod and reel in ages, I could still remember the basics. And of course, since the deli I worked at catered to all the latest crazes, I’d attended various classes over the years, and that included one on modern fish preparation techniques. Which was a fancy way of saying cleaning the fish, but at least I’d picked up a few useful tips during the session.
The first step was always the same, and I sliced the fish down the belly and emptied the contents into the bucket. I then left the fish to bleed out a little more while I looked around the kitchen for a few more ingredients to add to the stew. I found some potatoes in a sack in the corner and some onions in a basket, but the best part was the dried herbs that were hanging in neat bundles over one of the counters.
I recognized some, tasted the others, and finally settled on the ones I thought would work well with a fish stew. I also found some carrots and some butter in a dark, cool cabinet under the sink as well as a dried salami hanging from the rafters. I wasn’t thrilled by the orange color, but a quick sniff and taste confirmed that it was actually quite good. It was spicy with a bit of smoked paprika flavor, and the meat reminded me of uncured pork.
“This is going to be good,” I chuckled as I placed a cauldron over the fire.
I found my rhythm as I chopped up the ingredients, and then I tossed the butter and onions in the warm pot, added the carrot, and finally threw in the sausage.
I took some thyme and tarragon leaves from the herb bundles and plopped them in too with a little more butter. The whole hut smelled so delicious as the spicy pork fat, onions, and spices started to mingle that I suddenly felt hungry. Man, I loved a good meal, and I could already tell the stew was going to be delicious.
“Thanks for your service, Mr. Fish,” I murmured to the fish as I started to carve out large chunks of meat.
It was something my mom had always done when she was cooking an animal that we’d caught, and it had stuck with me all these years. I’d never asked why she insisted on doing it, but I always understood at some basic level. It just seemed right, since the animal’s sacrifice was feeding us.
When the fish was clean, I threw the chunks into the cauldron and let them brown on the outside a little before I filled up the cauldron with the water. It didn’t take long for the pot to start bubbling, and as I sat down on the dirt floor, I realized just how hot it was in the kitchen.
It had also been a long day, and I yawned as I glanced at the one window. I could see that the sun was setting, and for one moment, I worried that I would never wake up again if the sun went down. But my muscles ached, and I definitely had a bruise on my arm that was sore, so I told myself that I was fine, and tomorrow morning I would wake up and start another day.
And then I could figure out how I’d arrived in Hagop and how I would get back to Portland.
The steam started to fill the kitchen despite the giant chimney, and the flavors tickled my tongue. My stomach rumbled again, and I wondered if Hildegard would be offended if I sampled a bowl of my stew. I couldn’t believe how good it smelled for something I’d just whipped up on the fly.
I heard a knocking at the door before I could drag myself off the floor though, so I yawned, stretched my arms, and then stood up. I had to hunker over as I made my way through the pots and pans again, but at least I didn’t knock myself out on a cast-iron skillet or something.
“Come in,” I said when I opened the door and saw Hildegard.
“Oh, my,” she said as she stepped inside, and her gaze drifted to the bubbling cauldron. “That smells absolutely delightful.”
“Well, thank you very much Ms. Beecham,” I smiled. “I told you that I could put a good stew together.”
“Well, I haven’t tasted it yet,” she said quickly. “Sometimes smells can be deceiving, you know. Anyway, let me show you where you’ll be sleeping, while the soup simmers.”
She turned around on her heel, and I’m pretty sure she expected me to follow her. So, I made my way back into the yard, past Kitchener the sleeping dwarf, and over to the stable.
We walked through the open barn doors, and though there weren’t any horses inside at the moment, there was a lot of old farm equipment and more objects I couldn’t identify.
“Here,” she said, and she led me up a very small, steep staircase that opened onto a trapdoor.
She held up her skirt and turned the handle of the trapdoor before pushing it up. Then, she gave the room a quick look before she climbed through.
“We haven’t had a visitor here in a while,” she said apologetically. “But the room’s clean, and there’s a water pump downstairs. How does that sound?”
I stepped up into the room and smiled. It had a big mattress on the floor covered in quilts, and there was a black cat sitting on the open windowsill. There was plenty of headspace, even for someone of my height, and the room was wide enough that I could lie down without having to curl up.
“It’s perfect,” I said. “In fact, I’m sure it suits me better than any of the rooms inside.”
“Well, we aim to please at this establishment,” she replied. “And the Beechams have always been known for our hospitality.”
“Then I’m very glad Johannes sent me this way,” I replied.
“Well, that’s it,” she said as she blushed slightly. “Let’s go down and check on this supper you’ve prepared, see if the taste lives up to the smell. After you, Tylard.”
“Tyler,” I corrected her.
“Tyler,” she murmured as she started down the steps.
The scent of the stew had filled the backyard, and I could see people peering out from the back door of the inn. Hildegard made a shooing motion at them and then started to head to the inn instead of the kitchen.
“Looks like they won’t wait,” she said. “You grab a ladle, and I’ll make sure that only those who paid are in the line.”
I nodded and headed back into the kitchen, where I had to hunt around for a ladle. I finally found one, and by the time I turned around, I found the line had already formed outside the window. I dished stew into each bowl, and more than one customer gave me a big grin as they took a sniff of the stew. Most of the guests carried their bowls back inside, but a few started sipping before they made it to the door.
Some of the guests were greedy and tried to come back for seconds, but Hildegard shooed them away. She kept a close watch on the line, and no one challenged her when she sent them away. Finally, it was just Hildegard and Johannes the fisherman, who walked over with spoons and bowls of their own.
“Look who it is,” Hildegard said with a smile. “The very man who saved you.”
“I wanted to see what happened to today’s catch,” the fisherman said. “I have to say, it smells very promising.”
“I haven’t even had a chance to try it yet,” I admitted.
“Well, now’s your chance,” Hildegard said as she handed me three bowls. “Eat up. I don’t want anyone going weak and dying of hunger on my watch.”
I filled up two of the bowls and handed them to Hildegard and Johannes, then filled the third bowl for myself. My stomach was making a full-throttle growling sound by then, and the smell that wrapped around me set my mouth watering.
“Come on,” Hildegard urged as she and Johannes walked back to the inn. “Join us.”
I thought about it for a moment, but the kitchen was still too hot, and I really didn’t want to eat alone. So I grabbed a spoon and trailed after them. I found them at the bar, where they were propped up on a pair of stools with their tankards of beer and bowls of soup in front of them.
The stool creaked as I sat down, and I was basically squatting at the bar, but I didn’t care. I shoved the spoon into my bowl, scooped up a hefty portion of fish and broth, and then finally let it roll around on my tongue.
Oh, hell yeah, this was freaking good. The slight sweetness of the carrot mixed perfectly with the peppery sausage and salty fish. Everything was cooked to perfection, from the golden onion to the flaky fish, and even the potato was soft but without being mushy. Even the wealthy ladies who visited the deli would have enjoyed this.
“My goodness,” Johannes said and shook his head. “I’ve never seen a man cook like this. You have a talent perhaps, boy.”
“Mmm,” Hildegard added as she downed another spoonful.
Johannes and I took our time with the soup, but Hildegard gobbled it down, and when she was scraping the bottom of the bowl with her spoon, she picked it up and slurped down the rest.
“That’s not very ladylike of you, Hilly,” Johannes laughed.
“Let a hardworking woman eat her dinner,” she protested as she rolled her eyes. “I’ve been on my feet all day. Well, Tyler, I’m certainly glad you washed ashore today. This is certainly one of the best meals we’ve had here in some time.”
“So can I call you Hilly now?” I asked.
“Absolutely not,” she answered quickly. “We haven’t even known each other a day. I don’t know a single thing about you, other than that you wear strange clothing and look like at least one of your parents might be a giant.”
I had actually been taller than both of my parents, but I didn’t see the need to share that information. I had a feeling no one would believe me anyway.
“Perhaps they were,” I smiled. “Who knows?”
“Strange fellow,” Hildegard yawned, and she swigged the last of her beer. “My, I quite enjoy this year’s winner. The Pyotr House one.”
“Mmmm,” Johannes nodded, and he opened his mouth and let out one of the largest burps I’d ever witnessed in public. “Now you know, that really hit the spot.”
“Johannes,” Hildegard rolled her eyes. “Your wife would beat you with a rolling pin if she heard you do that.”
“And that’s why I love her,” he smiled. “She keeps me in line. But yes, I can’t believe it’s already been a year since the last fair. Who knows what’ll be on offer this year?”
“There’s a fair soon?” I asked. “I haven’t been to a fair in… ages.”
“It’s an annual event,” Hildegard replied. “To celebrate the harvest, of course, but most people go for the beers.”
“Oh,” I said, and a huge smile crept across my face. “A beer festival.”
“Well, there are other drinks as well,” Johannes said. “But the beer’s what most people look forward to.”
“This one won the best beer this year,” Hildegard said and held up her tankard. “Of course, Pyotr House is well known for their beers.”
“Ah,” I nodded.
I really wanted to know more about the festival, but I could feel my eyelids starting to get heavy. I was suddenly tired as hell, and I realized I’d been going since early morning. I certainly hadn’t planned on turning into a cook along the way or having to survive a plunge into a vat, both of which had worn me out.
“You seem sleepy,” Hildegard noted. “Maybe you should get some rest. It’ll be an early day tomorrow.”
“Bed does sound good,” I sighed. “But does that mean you’ll have more work for me tomorrow?”
“Well, you’ve certainly done an excellent job today,” she replied. “And I can’t guarantee I’ll need you to cook tomorrow, but there’s always plenty to do around here. So here’s seven silver pieces. I’ve subtracted what you owe for room and board for tonight, but the rest is yours.”
She pulled a very large leather wallet out of her dress and unbuttoned it. Then, she handed me seven small silver coins with nothing but a glistening H embossed into the metal.
I quickly shoved them in my jeans pocket and nodded at the two of them.
“Thank you,” I smiled. “And with that, I think I’ll head to my room.”
I nodded to Hildegard and Johannes, scraped myself off the stool, and then shuffled to the back door to the sounds of another noisy night at the tavern. My eyes were bleary, and I had to squint against the darkness just to find the barn. Somehow, I made it up the stairs without killing myself, and I flopped onto the mattress without even stripping down to my boxers. I was so tired that I simply closed my eyes and drifted to sleep.
My eyes flew open at the sound of what sounded like a scuffle somewhere just below my window. Early morning sunlight streamed in, and I had to blink against the sudden brightness.
“You’ll never catch me!” someone shouted, and I heard someone try to kick over a pail. “I have the law on my side!”
“The law hates your kind!” a man growled. “They won’t care what happens to you.”
I could have just rolled over and pretended I’d never heard anything, but I was never one to run away from a fight, especially when it sounded like someone was being bullied. So I ran over to the window and checked the yard, and then I tried not to laugh.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. As if things couldn’t get any weirder, I was now witnessing a man fighting a garden gnome, which was very much alive.
Yep. The little fellow had a blue cardigan, white pants, and a red pointy hat, just like those stupid statues. He even had a white beard and an angry scowl, and he darted around behind tree trunks and old beer barrels to avoid the man’s wrath.
This was an absolutely perfect way to start my first full day in Hagop.