October - Chapter 2

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Sad_Girl

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October

Disclaimer: this story is completely fictional. Although inspired in some ways by real people, their likenesses here are borrowed and used in a manner which is in no way to be considered realistic. It’s full of historical inaccuracies, as well. The author makes no profit and means no harm in anything within the story; it’s just a fun little fairy tale.


Chapter Two

The brittle leaves skittered across the ground, pushed and lifted by the cool autumn wind, tapping at the windows and brushing at the doors of the cozy inn. The dinner hour had passed long enough ago that the scent of cabbage and corned beef had faded (or at least been replaced by the smell of the peat burning on the hearth and the ale which sloshed about in the tankards of the lingering customers). Larry was making his last rounds of the evening, checking that the kitchen was cleaned properly and closed for the night, that the horses were groomed and settled in the stables and that his customers were satisfied and content in the lounge or settled safely in their rooms. He prided himself in running a fine establishment; one in which a customer could feel safe to have their fill of food, drink, and sleep.

The “Black Cat” was his father’s inn, but in truth everyone knew it was Larry who kept it running to such high standards. One day it would belong to him, and the only thing which he would like to change would be the name. Even if he took down the sign naming it ‘An Cat Dubh’ which had hung above the door for as long as he’d been alive, Larry doubted the inn would ever be known as any other name.

The rain which had been threatening all day had finally started to fall in fat, bitter cold drops against the already soggy ground. It was no night for travelers, and he hoped anyone who had been on the road from Dublin had realized that and already sought shelter elsewhere. Making sure the doors were firmly closed and barred, he returned to the main room where he found Cassidhe had a pint of stout and a cigar waiting for him at the bar.

“I didn’t ask ye for those, did I?” he said, wiping the foam from his lip with the back of his sleeve.

“I hardly thought they’d go to waste if ye declined,” Cassidhe teased. “but if you’re so concerned with the cost, take it out of my wages.” One side of Larry’s sensuously full mouth curled up into the beginning of a smile as he watched the girl wipe the countertop with a rag until it shone softly in the firelight. The girl had only been with him at the inn for a few months time, having come in to replace his elder sister Cecelia after she married, but she was thorough and efficient, friendly with the customers, but not too friendly – as could cause a set of troubles all it’s own. Larry was not the sort of man to develop any deep fondness or trust easily, but when it came to Cassidhe, he was sorely tempted.

Her soft amber hair reflected the firelight’s warmth and had tempted many men to try and stroke it – only to have their hands slapped away in the effort. Those men were the fortunate ones, as it would soon be discovered by those who persisted or changed the aim of their greedy touches. She had a smile as warm as the sun, and a frown as stern and cold as the sea itself. She could also punch like a man and held no reservations about doing so.

Larry smiled to himself and settled into his chair by the hearth, drink and cigar in hand as she cleared the empty tankards from a table in the corner where all but the last customer had cleared out. The bard who had arrived only a short while ago was the only soul still stirring, finishing his second mug and strumming his harp as he watched Cassidhe fill his tankard once more.

“Have ye thoroughly wet yer throat and warmed your body, bard, to share a song with us?” She asked gently, her sky blue eyes sparkling as she peeked at him from beneath thick red lashes.

“For you, fair lass, I believe I could,” the young man replied with a genuinely shy smile, his green eyes rushing down to stare at the floor after the briefest moments glance at her. “Though no melody which I could devise could do you justice, I would try, if only I knew your name.”

“I will withhold judgment as to your abilities until I’ve heard your work, but I suspect you flatter me with your humility,” Cassidhe laughed gently, blessing the man with a sweet smile before turning away to take her place opposite Larry by the fire. “And my name, should you truly wish to compose my planxty, is Cassidhe.”

“Cassidhe,” the stranger breathed her name as he might utter a prayer.

Before Larry could find the proper words to interrupt the flirtatious conversation and suggest the bard sleep on his musings, the peaceful quiet of the setting was shattered by a thunderous pounding at the front door. His scowl did nothing to silence the intruder outside, but the bard and Cassidhe, at least, were silenced by it. He moved quickly to peer through the tiny window in the door at the three darkly clad men and their horses. The smallest of the men was also the one making all the noise; and as he lifted his thick hand to pound against the door again, Larry recognized his familiar face.

“Bono,” he sighed, closing the window and sliding the bolt back. “Alright, alright! Enough! I hear ye!” He hissed through the door, trying to respect the peaceful lull of night despite the racket created by the new arrivals.

“Before ye enter, you know what I need to see,” Larry told his old acquaintance, holding out his hand expectantly.

“Lardence, mate, it wounds me deeply that ye should insist upon this silly routine!” Bono declared as he reached inside the black leather jacket and withdrew a bulging purse. He dumped several gold coins in the young proprietor’s hand, far more than enough to cover the cost of food and lodging for the night.

“Smart man,” Gavin told Larry with a wink, pushing past the men to seek out the warmth of the lounge, leaving a muddy trail behind him all the way.

“I’ll summon Paul to take care of the horses,” Cassidhe said, rising from her seat and moving toward the back door.

“Don’t bother,” Larry told her, pocketing the coins and slipping on his coat and boots. “I’ll see to the horse’s m’self. I’m sure our new guests will be wanting libations. Scream if you have any trouble with them being … too familiar.”

“I think I can handle the likes of these rogues, it should be their welfare what concerns you,” Cassidhe assured him with a wink.

“You’re boldness is goin’ t’be the death of ye, it is,” Bono heard a familiar voice announce from near the fire as he wriggled out of his coat.

“You know these men?” Larry asked, a note of reservation darkening his voice as he paused in the doorway. The bard, Edge, was on his feet and eyeing the newcomers seriously. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath.

“Indeed, I was in their company not three hours ago – as they robbed the carriage on which I was unfortunate enough to be riding.” The bard replied. Larry thought he saw Guggi reaching for his pistol, but Bono was the one who concerned him most as he strode forward to look the bard in the eyes.
“Unfortunate, indeed! To be in the company of the coach full of a bunch of British dandies while they were so boldly trespassing on our island here,” He challenged. “Or is it not your island at all, then?”

Everything seemed to hang in that moment; the turning point of a peaceful evening – too rare a thing these days. The tension broke as both men, Bard and Highwayman began to laugh gaily, leaning on one another for support.

“Tell me this, Bono – did you know I was aboard that carriage and decide to rob it anyway?” Edge asked, his tone light and familiar now as he greeted his old friend.

“Anyway?” Gavin laughed, slapping his leg at the thought. “He decided to rob it because you were on it. We were done for the evening, headed here to meet you, when he spots you riding up front on that fancy carriage, just as bold as you please!”

“How could I resist?” Bono added, settling onto the bench beside Edge as Cassidhe placed three fresh tankards on the table for the newcomers. Larry sighed and shook his head at the sight. One of these days, he felt certain, Bono’s luck would go foul. He had a sinking feeling that he would be around for the moment and smothered with the aftermath – but he couldn’t turn the man away, he was the only one of his boyhood friends who remained in his life. He closed the door behind himself and took the men’s horses by the reins to stable them for the night, the warmth of the sounds of voices raised in story and laughter and song drifting out into the night to keep the chill away.
 
Whoo! first comment! :wink:
/gloating

WOW, SG. This is amazing! Guggi, Gavin, and Bono as the highwaymen is my favourite part so far.

Can't wait for the next part!
 
u2topia said:
WHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
Excellent start!!!
Cannot wait for Adam's arrival~~
As always, SG...:bow: :bow: :bow: :bow: :up: :up:

thank you very much
and um... Adam was the star of chapter one :confused:



ETA: nevermind _ I understand. I'm just slow :reject: :der:
 
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:love: It's great, SG, and I really like that you're going back in time with this one! :up: :applaud: :hug:



:shh: And yes, as usual, I'm already head over heels for your Edge :eek: :reject:
 
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