Roots - Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve: Tall Tale

Denrir and Glenn pushed their way through the crowd, moving slowly through the tavern. The smell of mead was heavy in the air and the ceiling hid behind a veil of smoke. The constant buzz of conversation lit the room ablaze and created a tense atmosphere one could get lost in easily. The drone of voices found Denrir unfocused and tired. He shook his head and motioned for Glenn to follow him.
“Outta’ the way, you drunk blokes ‘fore I split your glasses over your head!” Denrir growled through grit teeth and shoved past several men who stumbled and fell. A few curses followed them but none stood back up and continued drinking on the floor.
“Well that seemed unnecessary.” Glenn spoke quietly as they moved through the throng so Denrir could hardly hear him.
“Well it’s been a month since he disappeared. I’m tired, I’m hungry, I want to return home and work on my farm. It must be full of weeds and dead by now.”
“I know and I understand, but I’m not particularly in the mood for a fight just now. Let’s just find that pickpocket and move on.”
Denrir grunted in agreement and shrugged past a man who held his arms out mid-story: “..And some elf comes flying smack inter’ a tree! I swears’ I seen it! We were out hunting for some dinner when I hears’ this roar, like an avalanche it shook me. I come ‘round this ‘ere bend an’ there they is. An ol’ man shootin’ at some huge movin’ tree! It had arms and legs like a man and a voice that could shiver yer spine, it did. I stopped in the trees and waited to see what would happen; and would you believe it, but he shot it right in the bleedin’ eye! The thing goes a-roaring and a-ragin’ till it knocks off its’ bloke’s head off. At that, I started a shakin’ real bad and didn’t know what I saw fer sure; but I swear I saw that ol’ man run off with the elf. Long blonde hair shimmering in the wind as that there storm blew in..”
Glenn froze and turned on his heel, a faint hope beginning to grow in the pit of his stomach. “Excuse me sir, did you say elf?”
The man looked down at Glenn disdainfully for interrupting him and hiccupped, slopping his beer down his front.
“I did, and you woulda’ knowed if ye’d just listened!” The man barked and took another drought, emptying his pint into his gullet.
Denrir stalked back over to Glenn with a grin. “Got our money back, and some.” He jingled his purse and laughed heartily. “What’s the matter, Glenn, dragon got your tongue?”
Glenn ignored him and stared pleadingly into the drunken man’s bloodshot eyes. “What did he look like?”
The man scratched the scruff on his chin and slapped his belly. “Like a big lass, he did. Long yella’ hair and a thin body, real thin face like a cat or somethin’. I think he had a knife with ‘em too.”
Denrir and Glenn exchanged looks, the hope now risen into his chest, Glenn inquired further and gripped the man’s shoulders.
“Where? Where did you see this? Please, please tell me!” He pleaded and rocked the man on his heels.
“Okay, okay! Get off me! I was in the woods, just north of here; we call ‘em the Oaken Wood. I think they go by Town too, ‘course I dunno what they call..”
Glenn and Denrir shoved and pushed their way back through the tavern without regard until they were once again outside in the pouring rain. The ice cold precipitation soaked them through as they slopped through the mud to the nearest coach.
The stagecoach stood before them, painted burgundy with a single window on each side. A gold trimming bordered the rims on each side and a large banner was painted across the front and back in bright white letters. A short man with a pipe jutting from the left of his mouth, coughed and wheezed as they approached; rain dripping from the pool of his hat down into his lap. His nose was scarlet and his face pale though he remained quite tan. His arms were thick and his legs stocky as he cramped into place atop the face of the coach.
“Need to get some’ere?” He called down to them with a croak. “Charge is a copper a league or two silvers a town.”
Denrir tossed him six silvers and a few copper. “We need to get back to Town, know where that is?”
The man cackled and shook his head in laughter. “A course I do, boy, I lived there a long time ago. Used to have my own shop ‘fore I lost it in a gamble.. Well let’s get outta’ here! You comin’ or not?”
They clambered into the coach, which shook and swayed dangerously with their combined weight, and settled themselves in the cramped quarters on bare wooden seats. The man whistled and snapped the reins until the old gray mares tugged, and the coach lurched forward in the mud.
The rain pounded against the coach until it vibrated the seats beneath them uncomfortably. Denrir’s teeth chattered from the shaking and Glenn’s headache worsened from the rattling. He kicked in anger only to stub his toe against the cramped quarters.
“Do you think he’s really there?”
“How many other elves have you seen around?”
“I mean, do you think that man was reliable? He was drunk; not to mention his story about some giant tree men.”
“Don’t forget the old man who took one down all on his own.”
They chuckled together for the first in a long time, only for it to fade away as the gloom and hopelessness of the situation settled back upon them. Glenn’s usual smile slumped into a glum scowl like a wilting flower until the wrinkles of his work shown like tree bark. Denrir’s high shoulders fell low and his chin tucked nearly to his chest.
A small window slid open with a rough scrape.
“Which part a’ Town you boys need to get ter?”
“Just outside to a small farm, beside the forest.”
The man puffed on his pipe and chewed the stem with his flattened teeth.
“Alright, I know where to go. Oh! Name’s Oatis by the way, but most people just call me Oats.”
Glenn nodded in reply and waited for the man to close the window before more rain poured in or more words from his mouth.
“So you boys from around here? I aint seen you here before, and I seen a lot of people. Lemme’ tell you, I probably seen everyone whose ever come in for the last ten..no twelve. Well. A lot of years. Too long for an old man like me to..”
Oats rambled on in a continuous rant for several minutes as Denrir and Glenn nodded and shook their heads in turns on who had to listen.
“I hope we get there soon; I don’t think I can handle much more of this Oats.” Denrir said from the side of his mouth without moving his lips. His temple began to twitch and sweat slid down the nape of his neck from the strain of remaining friendly. He ground his teeth with an audible crunch as Glenn tried to tune them all out, neither he nor Denrir saying a word.
A brief while passed in silence other than the sheets of rain draped over the wagon.
“So you two ever been to the beach?”