36th Day of Summer, 514 AV
"I expect you to make use of those poor apples when you're through with them." Micah, owner of the Wolf's Cave Inn and Zeke's boss, stood with her hands on her hips in the big common room area, watching Zeke practice the entertainer's art of juggling with very unpromising results. He was barely able to keep the apples in the air long enough to actually juggle without one flying out of reach and hitting the smooth oak floor.
"Of course, milady," Zeke replied, looking down at the fallen apples and stopping a wayward roller with his foot.
"I've never been very adept at these sort of tricks. Coordination and all."
“Then why bother 'accidentally' chucking fruit at us?” Korin, Micah’s brother, sat on a barstool looking grumpy, no doubt thinking back to the first time Zeke saw a juggler in the street and decided to step up his own performance.
“By ‘us’, you mean ‘you’, and that was one time,” Zeke said, stooping to gather up the fallen apples. “I was hoping it might increase revenue, give my particular talents an edge,” he explained, attempting to work with the two apples again--- “But...a-ha!” This time he caught both without dropping them, then went at it again, keeping them in the air for longer, his brow furrowed in concentration. He continued to toss around the apples with the occasional fumble, trying to keep them going in the same trajectory, at just the right cadence. This time he had the apples between hands for an optimistic two seconds before one slipped out of his grasp and rolled onto the floor.
“Why don’t you use three or four, like the juggler did?” Korin asked.
“Because I can barely keep up with two. Also I ate the other one.”
“Heh. Idiot bard.”
“Hardly. I got hungry,” Zeke said simply, picking up the misshapen fruit and tossing it up again.
Most of the inn’s visitors had gone to their rooms by now but a few night owls and late stragglers still lingered at the bar long after the food had been cleared. As with most things Zeke did his best to turn his fumbling into an act to get a few rises out of his audience (he had decided long ago that his audience was everyone at all times--it was more fun that way). A few were amused by the minstrel’s antics--others just looked annoyed.
“If I worked at this I could become a high-class fool,” he told Korin with a grin.
“You’re certainly foolish, but since when have you ever really worked at anything?”
“Ha-ha,” Zeke said sarcastically, as two badly-tossed apples soared past his ear. He turned and lunged for the falling apples, losing his balance and sticking out his arms in a wind-milling motion. He managed to catch one but the other hit the floor with a soft thud and rolled gently to be stopped by a thick heel belonging to a rather thick man. He was at least a foot taller than Zeke and his girth suggested that the more brutal of his swashbuckling days were past, but that made him no less threatening. The man nudged the browning apple with his foot.
“You dropped something.” A few snickers peppered the late-night dusting of patrons and Zeke put on a bright grin. “Yes. Yes I did. Now if you don’t mind, I’ll just...retrieve that.” he reached for the apples and delicately plucked it up, shining it on his sleeve and backing away as he did so, smiling throughout.
“Well,” he gathered, gauging the rest of the patrons, “I think it’s time I get to that laundry.” It was late after all. He could always practice afterwards. Besides, Micah would have his head if he shirked his duties and got himself into trouble again.
He tucked the old, battered apples into his coat pockets and left the sparse night crowd to Korin, heading for the mudroom to get to those linens he’d been neglecting since lunch. After all, without a job and a roof over his head he’d have no apples to juggle, and he was on thin ice as it was. As he soaped and scrubbed, using the wood staff to stew the cloth in the washbasin, he began to think of stories to tell at the fire during his shifts. He would alternate between lute and fable, he decided as he started to speak to himself under his breath, “Once upon a time there was a plucky castle fool...” This was no ordinary tale though, oh no. This would be full of twists and turns and jump-scares and a wee bit of juggling--
Knock knock. He turned to see Micah leaning on the doorframe, her expression set and her lips pursed in a taut line. “Oh, evening Micah. I thought you’d gone to bed.”
“Soren, we need to talk.” Zeke paused in his scrubbing and took his hands from the basin, drying them on his trousers. “That doesn’t sound good. What’s wrong?”
She sighed and walked towards him, looking him straight in the eye. “You know how business has been, and...well, the cook isn’t too happy with you staying in the kitchen. She says you’re always coming in late and you don’t pull your weight around here as you should. What’s more, you haven’t paid your rent yet this season..and I know money is tight but we’re not a charity.”
“Well, I’ve been working on a new song--”
“You’re in the common room throwing apples around, for goodness sake!”
“Hm. Fair point.” Micah shook her head, exasperated.
“Look, I don’t want to fire you Zeke, but from now on...you’ll have to find somewhere else to live.”
“What, like the street?”
“It’s not optimal, but--”
Zeke started to panic. “Micah, I can’t live in the street I’d be..stabbed to death, or bludgeoned, or trampled by livestock--” Then an idea came to him. He took a deep breath and put a hand on Micah’s shoulder.
“I understand. I’ll finish this up and get my things.” It wouldn’t be too difficult to live elsewhere with his traveling possessions. Especially with the elsewhere he had in mind.
The next morning Korin got up early as usual, went to the cave’s stables to check on the horses, and found Zeke snoozing on top of a hay bale next to his lute. Korin sighed and poked the sleeping layabout with a pitchfork.
“Get up,” Korin growled, shoving the lute case into Zeke’s hands.
“It’s 7 o clock and about time you earned your keep. Let’s go.”
Zeke yawned and slipped off the bale with the lute, adjusting his coat and brushing hay out of his hair. “Yessir,” he replied, snapping a salute. Etienne whinnied in his stall as if mocking them. Korin rolled his eyes and headed back to the tavern area. Zeke followed suit. It wasn’t right to take advantage of Micah and Korin’s hospitality, and he had to make up for it. From now on he was going to take an active role in minstrelling. No more fooling about. He had to make it up to them, even if it meant living in squalor. |
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by Ruzekiel Soren on July 20th, 2014, 2:39 am 