"My days of magnificence have long since passed, my lady. Yet maybe tonight we'll learn if I've managed to retain a trick or two?"

Aeval smiled, then replied

"Well, if you used to look more magnificent than you do now, it must have been rather breath-taking."

She chuckled a little, the little noises seemingly floating away, then let him take her hand, leading her into the bar. When they stepped in, Rodrick set about producing a little light in the room, and soon enough there were candles dotted about everywhere, making the room glow in a sort of gentle, flickering light. While Rodrick went into the wine cellar, Aeval looked around, then sat down lightly on one of the couches in the room. Soon enough, he entered back in, a bottle in his hand, looking fairly dusty. he poured some out, then handed one glass to Aeval. She swished the pale liquid about in her glass, then took a small sip, revelling in the delicate taste.

"I've not toasted with another in years. Is there anything you would like to drink to?"

"Drink to the taste of this exquisite wine.."

She mused, taking another sip. For a period of time, they made conversation, about various things, like the town of Fumblemeer, Rodrick's history, and indeed Aeval's history, each equal of interest. Once they had downed around half a bottle, Rodrick stood, probably thinking of supper.

"I understand you shall be going to prepare food? I don't particularily want to be sitting alone, so I will come and watch your... Talent."

She winked lightly, then stood, walking ove rto the bar and placing her glass on top, making a small clinking noise. She turned about, then waited patiently for Rodrick to do the same.

Old Man Bren stumbled into Fumblemeer, leaning on his improvised walking stick and taking great care to seem much more helpless than he really felt. An old habit, granted, but he was not a young man by any stretch. After all, his encounter with the bandits just yesterday left him completely peniless. He dreamt of going to a tavern, having a good swig of wine, but at the same time he knew that this was unlikely to happen. Would he have to..? Yes, he had no choice, did he? Bren would steal today.

This thought unnerved him far less than he considered decent, but then again decency was a trait he could rarely lay claim to. "Find me a decent traveling musician and I'll cut my flute fingers right off." he mumbled. His heart felt a sharp pang just from the thought that his flute was now lost to bandits. His livelihood and the present from someone who was once more than a mentor and a friend, gone in a flutter. "Life's no good. It's just no damn good.".

Had Bren been younger, he may have cried in this moment of weakness and sincere despair. But he was old and despair was no stranger to him. He shuffled to a big willow tree on the roadside, put his knapsack and walking stick on the ground next to him and sung the first song that his first lover had ever taught him, all those long years ago:

"So the leaves flutter and dance
In the wind of sadness and tears
All stories, all this romance
Worn out by the passing of years

But let us remember the things
That when young we enjoyed
When no puppeteer pulled on the strings
And our souls were not void

Your hair danced in the wind
And I saw your beautiful smile
So we kissed, again and again
Held our hands for a while

But time has defeated our hope
Crushed the smiles and the laughter
No flame now, just bitter smoke
And tears that come after..."

Bren was always fond of this melancholy song, so he sang it again and again. Few flutists had such beautiful voices and his carried through the streets of Fumblemeer, caressing every leaf on every tree and, of course, any ear which chose to listen.

Wren walked out of the Wig and Bonet and stretched. He was bored and not ready to head to the inn just yet. But there didn't seem to be anything left to do in the town now that it had gotten so late. He took a step into the street when he heard something coming from the road into Fumblemeer. It sounded like....singing? He looked in the direction it was coming from and saw what looked like a pile of rags leaning against a tree. He made his way over and listened to the last bit of the song.

"But time has defeated our hope
Crushed the smiles and the laughter
No flame now, just bitter smoke
And tears that come after..."

Wren saw that the pile of rags was an old man covered in a cloak with what appeared to be a large stick in his hands. He leaned against the building nearest the trees and crossed his arms. "Now that's not a very cheerful song, is it?"

Rodrick smiled at her wink, and finished his own glass and placed it next to Aeval. "Well then, let us hope I've managed to retain a little of this," he paused a moment, "talent which you speak of." With a chuckle, Rodrick took Aeval's hand once more and led her through another hall into a kitchen. A stone stove was in one corner, and a door led into a room to store the meat, while a door next to it had the various vegetables he had grown himself. Offering Aeval a seat, Rodrick walked to the door to the meat and came back with a chicken, already plucked. He set it on a large plate and began to sprinkle various herbs and spices onto it, happily. Being such an accomplished alchemist, his knowledge of herbs greatly helped in cooking, though that wasn't its intended purpose. While he learned herbology and alchemy for the purposes of war, knowing what worked well with food was a plus.

"My lady," he said as he placed two metal forks into both ends of the chicken and walked it to a door leading to the outside, where a spit awaited. "I hope chicken cooked over a fire is to your liking. Would you like to join me on the deck?" He connected one of the forks to a crank as he awaited Aeval and lit a fire below it. What was this feeling? It was something he had not felt in a long time. It was the feeling of his old life, when he could entertain any guest for hours, deep into the night and more. Part of his wished to return his sword to his back, along with his armor, and return to battle.

But he knew that was something he could never do.

Dang

noones on

She watched, still vaguely smiling, as Rodrick finished off his glass, and placed it down on the table.

"Well then, let us hope I've managed to retain a little of this, talent which you speak of."

She grinned, then watched as he took her hand, and slowly led her out of the room, into what was probably going to be the kitchen. It was almost around the corner, and they walked down a bit of a passage, before entering the kitchen. A spacious kitchen. Rodrick gestured at a seat in the corner of the room, and Aeval took it, still exploring the room with her eyes. He disappeared through a door, returning with a chicken. Dead, and plucked, of course. He placed it on a plate, already looking fairly at home, and started to sprinkle different herbs onto it, of all shapes and colours. Although it seemed to be ever so slightly haphazardly, he certainly seemed to know what he was doing.

"My lady,"

She looked up from his working hands to his face. He had shoved two long forks into... Er, either end of the chicken, and was now looking at Aeval

"I hope chicken cooked over a fire is to your liking. Would you like to join me on the deck?"

She stood from her seat, and nodded. A bit of a spit roast barbecue outside sounded quite pleasant. She followed him out, watching as he put together a fire, then lit it, the chicken already sitting above it.

"You certainly have a wonderous place here, Mr I'manaturalbornchef."

She smiled, coming closer to the fire, standing a short distance away from him while he was messing with the spit and fire.

On the edge of his vision Old Man Bren saw someone leaning against the nearest building to where he himself was standing, arms crossed and looking a little bit intimidating. Bren was sure, though, that he wasn't one of the bandits who robbed him, so when the stranger said

"Now that's not a very cheerful song, is it?"

Bren stopped singing and replied "Ah, but few beautiful songs are. Am I not right? It is always the tale that ends grimly that etches into one's mind rather than one of happiness and laughs." he cleared his throat and chuckled, "Or maybe I have seen too much of the bad side of the world to think anything different. What is your name, young sir?"

The old man cracked his fingers discreetly and felt the mask as a reassuring presence, tied under his rags. After all, everything costs and he very much liked to spend a night indoors for once. This man might just be a good target for picking a pocket or two.

"Natural?" Rodrick chuckled, "no, more like a perk from training of a more...violent nature." Rodrick left momentarily and returned with two new glasses of wine, handing one to Aeval before showing her to a small bench and taking a seat next to her. It was made of wood, but had padded in all the places necessary making it one rather comfortable sit. He would know, considering he built it himself and had since made many adjustments every time he felt something uncomfortable about it. It was, after all, one of his favorite chairs. The Deck was built nicely, and it had an overhang made of leather that Rodrick could enfold and fold in at need be. Remembering this, Rodrick stood and rotated a crank until the sky was above them, the stars just beginning to come out.

"Beautiful night, my lady. I truly am glad to be sharing it with someone, for once." It was true. He had missed company, he realized in that moment. At this point he had just grown so accustom to it being himself and no one else. Well, sometime he would bring one of his dogs home from the field, but that was not the same as having a beautiful angle there with you. For one, that angel could talk and hold a decent conversation.

"Natural? No, more like a perk from training of a more...violent nature."

She chuckled a little, then replied lightly

"I really can't imagine you being too violent.. Though you have brawn, I think your heart isn't quite the same."

She smiled at him, the fire flickering across her eyes. He dipped back into the house for a moment, and returned fairly quickly with two glasses of wine. Aeval took the one offered to her happily, taking a small sip, then placing it down on the ground. Rodrick came and sat beside her. He stood momentarily, and twisted a sort of lever, handle type thing, revealing the stars above them, splattered across the night sky.

"Beautiful night, my lady. I truly am glad to be sharing it with someone, for once."

"It truly is. Though in my light travels, I have seen many night skies, but this surely is one of the prettiest. You seem to get so many constellations around here. And you are quite the pleasant man yourself."

She smiled at him, before leaning forward a little for her wine glass, drinking a little again, swishing the liquid around in her glass, and savouring the various flavours that arose.

Mismer's eyes opened at light speed. As his stomach rummbled and his head pounded he noticed he may had drank to much. He looked over to the floor by the door into the main room. Mismer had puked all over the place and it stunk.

Walking towards the door he steped over it and went into his bathroom to get some water. Tripping as he got into the bathroom he proped himself up against the wall and filled up a wooden goblet. Drinking it down in one gulp he shock his thumping head. He grabbed a spade from the front room and used it to carefully scoop up the sick and throw it in the bin.

He toke the bin and placed it outside. Looking up to the sky he thought to him self. "Such a lovely night, shame. I went and wasted it drinking myself to oblivion." The streets were almost empty at this time. The moon was high in the sky and the time must be aproaching midnight. Mismer couldn't stand to stay out to long beacause of the smell he had brought out there. As he turned to go inside he toke one last breath of fresh air.

Eli woke up with a start. His head hurt, and there was laughter around. Didn't help much. He had all of his stuff-save a few coins that brokenheartedly left his coin purse-which was good... There were several empty mugs on his table.

Oh, I didn't...

Eli had probably gotten very drunk, (again), and missed out on his chance to learn fletching...

"Violence is far better dealt with by nonviolent man," Rodrick said as he took a sip of his wine and walked over to the spit, spinning the sizzling meat slowly. That was one of the first lessons he had ever learned when he first entered into his warrior-hood. "When violence is left to violent men, then violence would never end. In my opinion, the only people who should be allowed to take up a sword should be those who pick one up without the desire to use it, but instead the deep seated feeling of duty."

She was right though, he noted, about the stars. They did look very good tonight. That was one of the nice things about these small towns. In the larger cities, the ones that are always lit, stars are drowned out by the ambient light of the city itself. In towns such as Fumblemeer, the stars are what light up the night, not the city. Rodrick's eyes went from constellation to constellation, having learned early where each was and the stories and legends behind each.

"Tell me then, if you don't mind, what are you doing here? Why have you found yourself in this small, little town?"

Aeval looked off into the distance for a moment, lost in thought, before turning back to meet Rodrick's eyes.

"I travel more than I should.. Thought it comes easily to me, being who I am. But some people just don't take me the right way. But I tend to fare better in smaller towns, and this one I just stumbled upon."

She smiled a little, turning her gaze to the sky above, which was now fully lit up by many beautiful stars, groups of the little torches telling stories. She sighed, pondering, before looking at the spit.

"It is starting to get late. Is this fine meal of yours near ready?"

She inquired, her mystical eyes fixed back on Rodrick's figure.