The Blacksmith's Daughter Ch. 01

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They say that in every legend there's a grain of truth.
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The sun had set behind the fields and the green mountains almost an hour before, dimming the light of day and draping the forest around him in shadows. The time between dog and wolf, they called it in French. The last minutes of sunlight, moments before twilight; not quite as clear as day, not quite as dark as night – the only moment when a wolf could pass for a dog long enough to strike, thus fooling the unfortunate onlooker. Even so, the sky in the west was still alight in a myriad of deep colors, ranging from scarlet red to a deep marine blue. The stars already shone bright against the pitch black sky at the east, though, with the promise of a clear night and a bright moon. The crickets had started their usual raucous symphony, and the fresh, damp smell of the nightly breeze reached his nose. He was thankful when at last the trees parted and he saw the first small homesteads at the turn of the road, announcing a village and, he hoped, a place to stay for the night.

The small town was dead already at this time of the evening as the traveler slowly led his horse through the empty cobbled streets, but the sounds of loud, drunk voices had reached his ears before he could even see the inn. His horse snorted gently and shook its head, already eager for a stall and fresh straw to nibble on, and the traveler soon found what he had been looking for.

The sturdy, three-story-tall building was the first thing he saw when he rounded the corner and rode onto the main street. Built of stone masonry about a century before, it looked like it was one of the oldest constructions in the obviously already old village. It also looked like the only place alive. It faced the main place of the town, a circular, paved clearing with a dried up fountain in the middle. The houses surrounding the main place were all dark and asleep, and the traveler did not think twice before swinging off his horse to loosely tie the line to one of the posts under one of the windows and striding in through the thick wooden door of the inn.

It was not as full as the sounds of laughter had him picture it to be – as any other inn would have been at this rather early time of night. The loud voices belonged to three very drunk bearded men who sat playing cards at a table beneath a window. Right as he walked in, two of them roared with laughter and repeatedly slammed their hands on the table, sending their shaking tankards of ale dancing across the surface amongst the scattered play cards. The third, the one who had lost, obviously, slammed his palm against his face with a groan. The other tables were mostly empty, beside a few men who nursed their drink in silence, apparently used to the racket the three others made. The room was warm and cozy, though. A number of oil lamps hung against the walls plunged it in a dim, warm light, and a small abandoned piano sat in the far corner, next to a dark staircase that he guessed led to the rooms upstairs. The bar was at the far end of the room, tended by a young woman in her late twenties, and amongst the drunken men he guessed her as the most reliable source of information. She saw him walking towards her, and lowered the plate she had been wiping onto the counter before stepping close to where he had taken a seat on a stool. "Good evening," she greeted him with a smile. She was very pretty, he thought, with curly golden hair she had gathered in a low bun. Tall and thin, with delicate bones and a face carved in porcelain, her petite waist hugged in a corsage. A shape most farmers would criticize, in fact, as they favored sturdier women with much larger hips, who could carry and give birth to many children without dying, and help in the fields. She would fit better in a large town, he thought, but found no reason to complain immediately as he answered her smile.

"Hallo. It's pretty calm here, isn't it?"

Her gaze left his to scan the room, and her lips curved up in another smile when the three drunken men laughed again. "It's always like that," she answered, and glanced back at him. "We don't often have guests."

The question behind the comment was obvious, and the traveler chuckled. "I'm a musician. I'm to play the violin at the Duke's wedding in three days. I'm meeting my other band mates in Learcaster tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" She sounded surprised. "I hope you have a good horse. Our carriages need at least two days to reach Learcaster."

That was bad news. He needed to board a ship in the evening of the next day, otherwise he would be late for the wedding – andthatwas something he had to avoid. He frowned and glanced at the window at his right: the sky was still clear, and there was perhaps an hour of light that he might have been able to take advantage of. Beside, with the moon almost full that night, and the absence of clouds so far, he would see better on the road as he had on many rainy, stormy days. "I shouldn't have stopped, then," he thought aloud. "Bronsborough is only a few hours away." He moved to slide off the stool, but the maid's hand clamped on his wrist, squeezing tight. He glanced up at her in surprise to find her frowning at him, any trace of amusement gone from the pale gray pools of her eyes.

"It's too late to go back on the road," she pointed out. "It'll be dark before you even reach the mountain road."

"The moon and the stars will be bright." Her fingers were warm against his skin, and he rather reluctantly pried his wrist from her grasp. "I thank you for your concern, but I've been travelling for years..."

"Not around these places," she guessed, correctly. He had always gone around in the center of the country; never so close to the East coast. "You shouldn't go 'round at night. You have more chances of getting to Bronsborough if you wait until morning." She gave him a tentative smile. "Please. We have good rooms. And I work all night. I'll wake you just before dawn, so you can be on your way early."

He opened his mouth to mumble a thank-you-but-no-thank-you kind of response, but a deep, rough voice spoke up before he could. "You should listen to the lass," it said, rumbling like gravel, and the traveler turned his head to find it came from a tall, burly black haired man who had been silently sipping his ale at the counter, a few stools down from his. He was surprised he had not noticed him before then: with shoulders as large as most doors and arms as big as not so small tree trunks, the older man was bound to be noticed. Even as he sat on his stool, crouched over his tankard of ale, his loomed shape held the promise of at least one or two feet more than the traveler had. And while he might not have been taller than most, he knew that he was at least taller than a few. The big man turned his head, and gave him a long look over, his surprisingly gentle blue eyes scanning him, before he nodded towards the door. "That your horse outside?"

The traveler hesitated only a moment before lifting a shoulder in a half-felt shrug. "Yes."

The big man nodded and suddenly stood up from his stool, confirming the traveler's doubts about his towering height. It took quite a lot of will not to take a step back. "I'll go and take him to the stables, and then I'll bringhisthings up," he rumbled in a tone that offered no argument. He was not speaking to him, in any case: it was the maid who nodded.

"Alright."

"Wait..." the traveler said, letting a hint of annoyance tint his tone. "I never said..."

"You want to stay for the night, son," the man answered sharply. He looked at him again, no more gentleness in his eyes this time as he jabbed an iron-like, sausage-shaped finger in the middle of his chest. It hurt, but the traveler merely pressed his lips tightly to try not to show it. "There's no choice here, boy. You go out and you die, or you stay here, sleep the night, and live."

"You actually make it sound like a choice, you know," the traveler dryly pointed out.

"Whatever. Fine. You go die out there if you want. I'm not letting you take that good horse with you," the man snorted and, with one last polite nod to the maid, turned and walked to the door, his footsteps banging loudly against the floorboards. He disappeared through the door, ducking several inches as he did so not to knock his forehead on the frame. The traveler stared at the door in amazement for a few moments before switching his gaze to the girl.

"Who wasthat?"

She gave him a wry smile. "That was Salem. He's the local blacksmith. He'll take good care of your horse, don't worry."

"Yeah." He glanced at the window again. The sky had darkened considerably by then, now a deep blue where the stars now shone, and he sighed deeply, defeated. "Alright, fine. I'll live to sleep another night."

Her smile widened and reached her eyes at once, and the sight of it made his innards squeeze tightly, shooing mad butterflies up and into his stomach. He felt his lips part, but she turned around before he could make a fool of himself and reached for one of the cupboard doors behind the counter. Opening it revealed about half a dozen keys hanging on small hooks, and she picked one at the top. "Come," she said, closing the cupboard and walking around the counter. "It's right up here."

He followed her across the room towards the stairs at the back. He slowed at the piano to gently run his hand on the keyboard dust cover, and frowned as he rubbed the dust between his fingers. "It hasn't been used in quite some time, has it?" he asked as he walked up the steps behind her. She glanced back at him over her shoulder and shrugged as she reached for one of the oil lamps on the wall of the staircase.

"No," she said hesitantly. "I don't know if anyone in town knows how to play, really." She looked back ahead as she led him up the stairs. There was little light other than the lamp she held by the time they reached the third floor, and he had been too busy watching the way her homespun skirt swished with each movement of her hips to notice they had reached the second landing. She stopped abruptly and he nearly fell into her back before catching himself on the railing. The landing was barely large enough to hold the two of them, and there were only two doors, one on each side. He reached for the closest doorknob, but was stunned when she lightly but sharply smacked his hand with a harsh, whispered "No!" He looked up at her in astonishment, but she turned away from him and to the other door, unlocked it with the key and pushed it open.

The hinges creaked slightly, and he rather hesitantly stepped into the room. There was no light inside, and the shutters were closed. The growing sense of strangeness – perhaps even craziness – that he was starting to get from this place was slowly making him nervous, and he was not sure what to expect from the room. The smell was pleasant and clean enough, though, a light mix of flowers and lye soap she probably used for laundry.Well, he thought,at least you won't lie with lice.He heard the girl step in behind him with the lamp, and watched her as she used it to light up the larger oil lamp on the bed stand. He was able to look around, then, and felt some relief at finding himself in the middle of a small, but somewhat cozy room with low, slanted ceilings supported by wooden beams. The bed was high, if not very large, and covered with clean looking woolen blankets and even a dawn pillow, a rare luxury in most inns. In the corner, next to an empty stone fireplace and a porcelain chamber pot, stood a large, sturdy looking armoire that vaguely reminded him of the man currently tending to his horse, and a basin and jug of water waited on a small table and two chairs that sat under the window on the far wall. Shrugging off his coat, he walked to the table and draped the jacket over the back of a chair before he reached up to open the window panes and push open the heavy shutters. The fresh night hair washed over his face and he closed his eyes in bliss for a second before looking outside.

The moon was up now, a large, nearly round white orb hovering over the distant mountains. His eyes drifted lower to the black forest, and he repressed a small shudder at the idea that he might have been on the road right now if it had not been for the townsfolk's insistence. He suddenly felt guilty for his momentary judgment of their sanity and turned to face the maid to give her his best apologetic smile. "Thank you."

She had been waiting for him to speak, her hands folded against her stomach. The dim lighting from the lamps caught in her curls, illuminating her soft features and pale skin in golden light, and he marveled again at her beauty. It seemed to be growing each time he looked at her. Or he might have simply been slowly losing his mind. Either way, he hardly cared. She smiled back, and it only made his smile widen even more. "You're welcome, sir," she said softly. "I hope the room is to your liking?"

"I have a feeling this is one of your best," he said with a chuckle as he took a few steps towards her. "How much will this cost me?"

She lifted a hand in a light dismissal. "Whatever you are willing to pay. I make my money here with the ale, not the rooms." She shook her head. "Like I said... we don't get many guests."

"I can't see why," he said softly, letting his voice drop an octave. "I can see a lot of reasons to want to come here."

She lifted her head suddenly at his words and, catching the hidden compliment in then, blushed prettily in the light of the lamp. Her lips curved up even as she laid a pale hand against her flushed cheek, though, and he caught the sudden twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "Oh, sir," she let out in a whisper, and he saw no reason not to take the last few steps that separated her from him.

He reached up for her wrist to gently pull it back from her face, and let his lips curve up when she glanced up at him again. She was shy, he could see, yet maybe not as candid as he would have expected her to be. "What's your name?" he whispered as he leaned closer.

He heard the hitch in her breath as her lips parted. The sound of it made the blood rush to his lower body, but it curled just as suddenly as there was a loud bang against the door. They jumped apart as if they had been bitten just as the wooden door slammed open against the wall, and Salem the Giant smith barged in, filling the doorframe with his shadow and dropping unceremoniously the traveler's saddlebags on the hard floor. They landed with a large crunching sound, and his heart stopped.

"Careful!" he exclaimed as he ran to them and fell to his knees, fumbling with the leather straps to try and open them. He dug in through his luggage until he grasped the handle of his violin case and pulled it onto his lap.

The large man rolled his eyes. "You're welcome."

"God, Salem," the maid scolded gently. "Those are priceless."

The traveler quickly snapped open the iron fastenings and jerked up the cover. The violin thankfully sat unbroken against its velvety bed, the unblemished varnished surface shining red in the golden lighting. He let out a relieved sigh, and shut his eyes as he closed the case again. "Thanks," he managed to get out as he glanced up at the man. He only noticed then how flushed the older man was. His round face was beet red, and his barrel chest heaved from the effort of climbing the stairs with the saddlebags. "Thank you," he said again, more heartfelt this time. "For bringing my stuff. And... and taking care of my horse."

"A damn good beast, that is," the man grumbled. "He's in the stable at the back of the inn. Fed and everything. One of his shoes is crooked, I'll see to it tomorrow morning." Then, without so much as a goodbye nod, he turned and ducked through the doorway again. They were both silent as they listened to his heavy footsteps as he went down the stairs, then were left in a long, awkward silence.

"Sally," she said softly, after a few moments. He looked up from where he was still kneeing on the floor, and she smiled down at him. "You asked me my name. It's Sarah, but everyone calls me Sally."

He let his lips curve up as well. "I think I like Sarah better."

Her smile widened and she opened her mouth to speak. She was interrupted, though, as the howl of a wolf suddenly tore through the silence of the air. It was distant, but so long and loud and breathtaking that he was up and rushing to the window in a second. The wolf howled again, the beautiful sound of it echoing through the mountains, and his chest filled with wonder. "So that's why you didn't want me in the forest at night," he told Sarah as she stepped up to stand behind him.

"No, not just that," she answered in a whisper. Her light hand came up to rest against his shoulder blade and he shivered, though he did not feel cold. "Just wait."

He gave her a quizzical look over his shoulder, but she simply pointed her chin at the open window again. He did not need to wait for a long time.

A third howl soon sliced through the night. He was just wondering if it was his imagination that it sounded louder and closer to the town when it was joined by several others.

One after the other they cried out to the moon. It felt like the sound came from everywhere around the town, sometimes close enough to come from the fields. As beautiful as the chorus was, imagining the size of the pack and realizing how close it seemed to be to the houses gave him goose bumps.

It went on for several minutes before a last howl reverberated through the valley, louder and much closer than the others. It was like a powerful song, gut-wrenching and filled with sorrow, and while he marveled at the beauty and sadness of it, some animalistic instinct had the hair stand at the back of his neck and made him want to run away and cower in fear.

It made him feel like prey.

The forest fell silent after that, and he let out the breath he had not realized he had been holding. Sarah sighed softly, and stepped back from him. "Thatwas why you didn't want to be in the forest," she breathed, and turned away from him to walk to the door and step out. The door shut behind her with a click, and he was left alone with his heart beating madly in his chest.

"No," he grumbled to himself and, with a last shudder, reached up to pull the shutters closed. "I sure as hell didn't."

**

The wolves did not howl again. The mattresswasclean and devoid of lice, and quite surprisingly comfortable. Having shed off his dusty travelling clothes and given himself a superficial wipe with the water from the basin, he felt pure enough to slip under the heavy blankets. He felt sore from horse-riding and generally sleeping in the heather for the past few days, and although he felt restless and he tossed and turned for quite some time, he eventually fell asleep.

And dreamed.

It was awful.

It was blurry and dark, with snarling dogs and howling wolves, the stink of a beast's breath against his throat and the sound of claws on the floor. He woke up with a gasp to find himself sweaty and nearly fallen off the bed, the woolen blankets twisted around his legs and bunched up about his feet. He reached up to rub his hands against his face to find his skin moist with cold sweat, and stayed like that for a moment, his head in his hands, panting and waiting for his heart to resume a normal rhythm.

A wolf chose that moment to utter a long howl in the distance, and while the closed shutters muffled the noise, it still sent a deep shudder along his spine. "How can these people live in this bloody place?" he whispered to himself as he dropped his hands in his lap. He waited for a few minutes and, when the howling did not resume, he decided to give up on sleep. What good would it do anyway, if it was filled with such God-awful nightmares?

He slipped out of the bed and reached for his pants and shirt on the back of the chair. He decided to forgo socks and shoes, and walked barefoot to the door instead. He winced as the hinges creaked again as he opened it, and then he started to silently pad down the oak steps. By the time he reached the first landing, he realized the light was still on downstairs. He walked down hesitantly, but was relieved to find the drinkers gone, the chairs pulled up on the tables. Sarah had left only two lamps burning, and she stood at the other end of the room, sweeping the floor. The creaking steps must have made enough noise for her to hear him coming, for she looked up when he stepped into the main room, and gave him a soft smile as she lowered the broom. "Can't sleep?" she said as she straightened up. "Do you need anything?"

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