Chapter Fourteen: Home
Tranith Argan: Book 6
Time to redress old slights.
The horses rode up to the little inn, and the riders dismounted and tied the horses to a hitching post that had seen better days. The windows of the inn were cleaner than Felanar remembered them, but being this close to the sea perhaps this was a constant need and he saw it as a child on a bad day after a storm. He and Alessa and two large men entered the main room of the inn and walked to an empty table where they sat and waited for service. They were dressed rough for travel, not appearing to be important in any way.
“It is a cool night, proprietor,” said Felanar as the owner of the inn walked into the room to see who had arrived. “We could do with a bit of fire in your fireplace.”
“Fire costs money,” said the bald man with a scowling face.
Felanar dropped a leather satchel onto the table and it made such an unmistakably deep thudding sound, the proprietor immediately realized he was dealing with well-off clients. He looked at them suspiciously.
“Are you offering me that?” he asked Felanar.
“If your service is up to standard, yes,” Felanar replied, “it will all be yours in the morning if you please us when we make requests.”
The man scowled even harder, if that was possible.
“What kind of requests you going to make?”
“Nothing that an innkeeper cannot provide in the normal course of caring for his customers. Dinner, ale, a warm fire, a clean room, breakfast in the morning.”
He lifted the bag of gold from the table and let it drop again so that the innkeeper got the message.
“Yes,” he replied gruffly. Then turning to face the other room he yelled out, “Get a fire going, woman!”
Felanar glanced at Alessa and she knew what he was thinking. He had told her the story of this inn, on the occasion of his first visit to Elaria back in his childhood. He told her about the ill-tempered innkeeper, as well as his pleasant wife. Both were years older, of course, but that just meant the innkeeper had more time to sink into his meanness. What of his wife?
The innkeeper’s wife walked into the room carrying logs for the fire. Wherever the innkeeper kept those logs, they certainly weren’t near the fireplace where it would be tempting to chilled guests. Felanar looked sharply at this middle-aged woman who was not as slender as she was in the past, and she carried more lines in her face and grey in her hair, but the face was as he remembered it. She glanced at the travelers briefly and set about starting the fire. Felanar watched her carefully and was pleased to see that the years had let her escape the worst of her husband’s cruel qualities. She looked, if not happy, at least not unhappy. Her dress was worn out as he remembered it, though obviously it was a different dress than the one he saw as a child.
“I hope you find this comfortable,” she said, turning to face them again. “It is nice to have a fire in here this time of year. I will go and set up a couple of rooms for you, and then I would be pleased to serve you supper if you are hungry.”
“We are,” said Alessa with a smile, “and we thank you for your kind hospitality.”
“Oh, it’s nothing at all,” she said shyly and left the room, but Felanar saw a smile on her face and it pleased him.
She worked hard during supper to serve all the plates and mugs, and the food was good. Whatever budget her husband gave her for food, her skill overcame it. The meal was delicious and they told her so repeatedly. Then it was time for bed, and the rooms were already warm with a small fire in each. Felanar and Alessa took a room overlooking the water that was not far from this inn, and the two men with them took the neighboring room.
The next morning at breakfast, as the innkeeper’s wife served them, Felanar stopped her at one point and asked her a question that broke the routine.
“What is your name?” he asked with a friendly voice.
“Me?” she replied.
“Yes, you, what is your name?”
“Berel, sir” she said.
“Well, Berel,” Felanar replied, “this is the second time you have served me breakfast and done so in a friendly manner that impressed me.”
“Second time, sir?” Berel asked curiously.
“I wouldn’t expect you to remember me,” he said, “for I was just a boy and this was many years ago, but I remember you.”
“You do, sir?” she asked.
“Yes,” Felanar replied, “I was making my first trip ever back then, and you showed me kindness and smiled at me, and I never forgot it, and I often wondered how you enjoyed your life.”
“She enjoys it just fine,” said the innkeeper who had come into the dining room when his wife had not reappeared in the kitchen quickly enough. “But she needn’t waste any more of your time. Get back to work,” he said to his wife.
“Excuse me,” said Felanar rising from his seat, “but I was talking to your wife and I wasn’t done.”
“You may pay me to serve you,” the innkeeper said, frowning, “but that doesn’t give you the right to interfere with my life, or my wife.”
“Talking to your wife is interference?” said Felanar.
“Please, sir,” interrupted Berel, “I have work to do.” She turned and headed back to the kitchen.
“Stop,” said Felanar, “I want you to hear this.”
He said it in such a commanding voice that Berel stopped suddenly and her husband widened his eyes.
“Just who do you think you are talking to my wife that way?” the innkeeper complained.
“Who do you think I am?” asked Felanar.
“I don’t know and I don’t care. You could be the king of Argan for all I care, but this is my inn and in this inn I am king!”
“Ah, there you are wrong,” said one of the men with Felanar. “The king of Argan is king of this realm, and if the king of Argan says to cut off your head, being king of this inn won’t save you.”
Berel slowly turned to face Felanar with a growing look of wonder.
Felanar stared at her kindly and then turned toward her husband.
“I won’t order you to be beheaded,” Felanar said, “for you are Berel’s husband and I am here to see that no harm comes to her, not even harm of her feelings, and were you to be slaughtered on the spot, it might make her sad.”
“Who are you?” asked the innkeeper, who found all this talk about heads being chopped off a disquieting thought.
“Bow before the king of Tranith Argan and his queen, the elf Alessa!” said the other man traveling with them.
Berel immediately fell to the floor and buried her head while her husband got weak in the knees and felt himself start to sweat. Felanar strode over to Berel and bending down lifted her back up to her feet and forced her to face him.
“Berel,” he said, “my name is Felanar. I grew up in Brindledown and only later in my life did I find out I was the rightful king of Tranith Argan. But you knew me as a child when neither of us had any idea of that, and you treated me in kingly fashion to the extent your circumstances permitted. I never forgot that, and I do not forget it now. I now name you a Friend of the Throne, with the rights to all the protection that affords you. We are setting up a post in Upton that will be lived in by these two representatives of the king. There is going to be more trade through Upton that ever before, and these two will see that the interests of the king will be met.”
He turned toward her husband.
“As for you, this town is going to see more visitors and you are going to have more business than ever before. But mark my words today: Your wife is under my direct protection. If you harm her in any way, if I even hear that you are mistreating her in the slightest, I will have no hesitation in shutting down your inn. In fact, if you harm Berel, I will have you thrown in jail. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, your highness,” croaked the innkeeper without looking up.
“Berel,” continued Felanar, “these two men are my representatives, and they are going to live in Upton now, not far from here. Do not hesitate to ask anything of them, day or night. They are under the strictest orders to see to it that your every need is met and your every wish granted.”
He turned back toward the innkeeper, reached into the pouch of gold and tossed him a coin.
“This is yours,” Felanar said, who then handed Berel the rest of the pouch. “And this is yours, for you do the bulk of the work in this inn, and you shall get the bulk of the reward.”
Alessa walked over to Berel, hugged the stunned woman, and said, “I also name you friend of the elves.” She handed her a curved horn just like the ones Felanar and Kara had as children. “If you ever are in need and these men of Argan cannot help, blow this horn and within minutes you will have elves at this inn ready to assist you.”
“So take a care with your wife,” said Felanar to the innkeeper, “for she has powerful friends now and you do not. It is in your best interest to treat her well morning and night, for if you don’t, her powerful friends will be displeased.”
With that the four of them left the inn and began packing their horses. Before they could leave, however, Berel came out of the inn and tentatively approached them. She had tears in her face.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said to Felanar, “but what am I to do with this gold?”
“There are going to be traders coming through Upton very soon,” he told her. “Buy some dresses from them and have a collection that makes you happy to view the contents of your closet.”
Berel blushed at the realization that her worn dress had been noticed.
“You no longer depend on your husband’s kindness,” Felanar said, “or his lack thereof, to provide for yourself. Furthermore, you are hereby invited to Tranith Argan any time you wish to visit, and you will be an honored guest at my palace. Or if you find life here unbearable, you may live in Tranith Argan any time you like.”
“Oh no, my lord,” she replied shyly, “my life is good, please do not think otherwise. My husband is not as bad as he might seem to the guests, for he is tight with money and it pains him to think of spending any of it, and when guests come that is when he is faced with spending it the most and it brings out the worst in him.”
“Truly he is in the wrong profession,” said Alessa.
Berel laughed, “Yes, I have told him this many a time, but I’m glad he is for I enjoy serving guests and meeting people.”
“And now you have met the king,” said Felanar.
“Oh my, this is quite a day I won’t soon forget,” she said.
“Well as you see, I never forgot you, and I never will forget you. With me, you have a friend for life.”
Felanar turned to the two men.
“See to it that her inn is repaired and painted any way the owners wish, and the throne will pay all the bills.”
He turned back to Berel.
“You want a clean, friendly inn for all those new guests that will be arriving.”
Berel bowed but as she did so a wide smile formed and that smile healed a part of Felanar’s heart that had broken all those years ago. As Felanar and Alessa rode off, he felt happy.
The two of them rode east from Upton and spent the day riding around the southern edge of Lake Brindle. When they reached the Heatherwood they stopped for the night and enjoyed a visit with the elves who were very glad to see both of them. A fine meal was had and comfortable tree accommodations were provided for the night.
The next day they rode into the outskirts of Brindledown, not heading into its heart, but around the edge where a small group of fishing shacks stood near the lake. They dismounted at one house in particular, and before they could knock the door had opened and a young woman with two small children by her side looked at the visitors curiously. The children, a boy of eight and a girl of six, looked between the strangers and their mother trying to figure out what this meant. The mother, however, realized who this was and her heart felt heavy again.
“I see you remember me,” said Felanar. “This is my wife, Alessa,” he said, gesturing to his side. “I have come to see how you are doing.”
“Oh, my king,” she said sadly, “I am well. I cannot complain. You are too kind to take time to see me.”
“We are neighbors,” said Felanar, “for I grew up here. Do not let my being king make you forget that.”
“Won’t you come in?” she said, and they did.
Seated in her living room Felanar could see that she kept this modest house in good repair and in clean condition. She didn’t have much, but what she had she shared as she set before them hot tea and simple black bread. Alessa enjoyed both, or at least made it appear that she did, and the little girl looked at her wide-eyed as she did. Alessa smiled at the girl, and something about Alessa’s perceptive gaze instilled a calming feeling in the girl and she smiled back.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” said Felanar, “but you must be wondering what the nature of my visit is.”
The mother nodded yes.
“I bring news of the sad past, I am afraid, but it is something that must be done.” And then he told her about his experience with the dragons in the last year, and how they were no longer to be feared by men.
“In fact, I have spoken to the very dragon that I confronted on Lake Brindle.”
“The one who killed my husband” she said more as a statement than a question.
“Yes, that is the dragon, and I explained the pain he caused you and your family, and as I told you before this was a misunderstanding among the dragons in the first place.”
“What do you mean?” asked the boy, and something in his tone made both Alessa and Felanar realize this boy had grown up in the last year and was taking on responsibility early.
“What I mean,” Felanar said, addressing the boy, “is that you sometimes torment a bug on the ground, do you not? I did at your age.”
The boy thought for a moment and then nodded.
“Right, and I’m sorry to say that some dragons thought of us as no better than bugs, and didn’t realize we were intelligent, caring individuals with families who loved us. When I explained all that, the dragons were sad, and they promised not to do it again. In fact, that one dragon offered to come here and apologize to all of you.”
“It’s coming here?!” the woman shrieked.
“No, relax,” said Felanar, “I told the dragon that would not be a good idea, and so no dragon is coming.”
The woman sat back in relief.
“But he wanted to show his sorrow in some way,” continued Felanar. “You may or may not know it, but dragons love treasure, shiny objects that glisten in the sun. So it was quite extraordinary for that dragon to do this, but he did it anyway.”
Felanar pulled out a huge leather bag and let it thump onto the table. It was heavy.
“He gave me that to give to you,” said Felanar.
The woman fearfully opened the bag, still unsure of accepting anything from a dragon and not certain what she would find. Her eyes opened wide as the light caught glints of gold from within the bag. She looked up in wonder at Felanar.
“Yes,” he said, “it’s gold, from his personal treasure. It is yours to live on, so you need never worry about caring for your children again, or depend on the villagers to care for you. There is enough gold there to last you the rest of your life, and your children’s lives after them, and their children too. You are now the richest woman in Brindledown.”
“Have a care,” said Alessa, “for I suspect you will now have many offers of marriage.”
While her children looked at their mother in wonder, she looked stunned. There were too many conflicting emotions running through her, and her change of fortune, literally, was too sudden for her to grasp. Unable to do anything else, she began to cry.
Alessa walked over and hugged her, and so did her children, and then a curious thing happened. The woman began to laugh through her tears and Alessa laughed with her.
“Thank you,” she said to Felanar wiping the tears from her eyes. “This means a lot to me and my children.”
“It comes from the dragon,” said Felanar simply.
“I know,” said the woman, “and that is the awful, sad wonder of it all.”
Felanar and Alessa excused themselves and walked back outside. It was a beautiful day in Brindledown, and it made him feel good knowing that this woman would never worry about her future again. The two of them rode off while waving goodbye to the family, the little girl waving both arms wildly at Alessa with a big smile on her face.
A few minutes ride brought them to the middle of town. As they rode toward Felanar’s boyhood home, the townspeople they passed along the way waved and called out in joy at seeing the old fisherman’s son, now grown up and now a king!
Felanar kept smiling as he realized what a difference power made to these people. He was always considered odd and quiet, but now he was proudly one of them. The king came from this town, don’t you know! He chuckled at this silliness, but he was glad for one thing: the distinction between High Men and Low Men was beginning to fade. He saw more inhabitants of the Tranith Argan region in town than ever before. Being from here stirred an interest in quite a few curious travelers. With increased familiarity of these so-called High Men came an increased understanding that the only real distinction between men was a cultural one. Some were city dwellers, some were fishermen, but all were men. After all, the king grew up here, so maybe Brindledown wasn’t so backward after all.
When they arrived at Chafrar and Sera’s house, they emerged with smiles and hugs. Also there were Alak and Feld and their children, and Pross and Jela and their spouses. It was a joyous party that afternoon, and when evening came they found themselves in town at the Slumbering Dragon.
“Ah, ‘tis Felanar and his elf wife, it is,” cried Namil, wife of the innkeeper. “I was just telling my customers, why just the other day it was, that it was on this very spot that you sat and told us about killing that dragon, or was it only chasing it away, I’m losing my mind I am. But it is so good to see you back with us again. We get many customers from far away now, and that is something I am grateful to you for. Oh, but it is good to see you!”
“It is good to see you too, Namil, and you too, Jalek,” said Felanar as the innkeeper walked over carrying mugs of ale. “I tell people in Tranith Argan that you’ll not find a better inn than the Slumbering Dragon and it is worth the travel.”
“You are too kind, my king,” said Jalek, but he said it in a friendly way, and then he went back to serve the guests.
The fire was bright and warm in the fireplace, and the black dogs lay on the floor in front, wagging their tails at the noise. Felanar look around the long table. Chafrar and Sera looked happy seeing their entire family, even the extended adopted family in Pross and Jela, enjoying a good time. The simple life was for them, he thought. He was glad that nothing else would interfere with their enjoyment.
Felanar’s glance turned toward Alak and Fuld. Alak had warmed up to his younger brother in recent months. Power does that, Felanar thought. Alak was now the brother of the king, and that made him prominent in this town and he enjoyed being prominent at last. Finally he found something that he could be good at that Felanar could not top. Well, what does it matter, thought Felanar, he should enjoy his life.
Pross and Jela looked happy, he noticed. They fit in well with Brindledown life. It was a simple life of fishing and farming and they took to it as if they had been born here. How they had grown as people since he first saw them in the caves of the saarks. Jela caught his eye and she beamed at him. Not the smile of the former lovelorn woman that she used to be, but the smile of someone who had truly found a satisfying life and was grateful to the man who made it possible. He beamed back.
Finally he looked at Alessa with affection. She was engrossed in a tale with Fuld and it made him so happy to see her embrace the life she had chosen. She was supportive of him and yet honestly told her opinion of things in ways that had already made him a better ruler and a better husband. They were still learning each other’s ways, but they were doing it in a spirit of cooperation that made the journey interesting and satisfying.
Satisfaction, yes, thought Felanar, that is the feeling I’m having. He looked around the room again, from the fire to the guests to his family to his friends to his beloved wife. He thought deeply about the warmth that enveloped him now. Satisfaction, yes, but it was deeper than that. It was a feeling that bubbled up from great depths, but its meaning to him was absolutely clear.
For the first time in his life, he felt at home.
THE END OF THE TRANITH ARGAN SAGA
