The Master of Budding-Bright Hall Shorts: The Rude Beaver Inn

The Old Gal had seen better days, Steve Beaver thought to himself as he took a bit of black lacquer to a to the chips on another table. Peter and Davie were finishing up the whitewash on the walls and the place fairly reeked of rotten eggs because of it, but the smell would be out long before the weekend and even by that night it wouldn’t bother his regulars. Personally, he thought that the pub’s nicks and cracks added character to the Old Gal, as the locals called his family’s public house, but her proper name was The Rude Beaver, oldest pub ever in the city and started by his ancestor who by coincidence was also named Steven Bever. It was a bit like hiding the Old Gal’s character, but even this yearly ritual had become tradition. And it amused Steve to think that everybody knew her even in her thick annual coat of paint, sort of like how too much makeup on an old drab never fooled anyone, into thinking her young and beautiful again. Much as the one old gal might be forgiven for her makeup and be allowed her delusions by her friends, so too he knew his pub looked foolish painted, fooled no one so, and yet the locals were too polite to poke fun at the Old Gal even in her declining years. Age takes us all he thought. Still, it couldn’t be helped and most of the locals even would come around to lend a hand as needed in the last push to bring up supplies, store extra provisions and the like come the weekend.

The weekend, and with it the start of the Sea Mansion Season, was not five full days away and there was still so much to do. Not that many of the finery came to Old Town anymore, but there was more foot traffic this time of year and a public house could get packed come the weekends. And the more adventurous foreigners might even come back regular during the festivities. This was the season when a place could make some fine money, maybe up to a month’s take in every two-day push over a festival weekend. The swells may have their season of fancy parties, but the average man took the who season as a chance to spend the extra coin them foreign lords by tradition tossed about. Yeah, you might work harder during the season, be forced longer hours and extra duty so the upper crust might have all the best, but them extra coins thrown to just about everyone and to the servants as shined, well that was money which burned a hole in most pockets and needed to be spent. The wine would flow in many more cups than just the wealthy on a weekend. Wine and Cups…

“Nell, Lovie, don’t forget to fetch up the good pewter and Pam, remind me tonight to bring them silver goblets over from our trunk. Oh, and see if Richard can spare some of his fine slip trencher plates.”

“He’ll have none of it, Stevie. Not after we sent back them two with chips last season. He swore so.” Pammy Beaver, Steve’s wife, shouted back from the storeroom where she was marking an order come that had come in for her dry good. There was just so much to do, but she did so love the Old Gal that there was no place she’d rather be, except maybe home with the family when the workday was done.  “We’ll just make do with what we have, or I can fetch my holiday dishes from the house.”

“That might be best. It makes no sense owing Richard for the use of his finery when your mum’s plates are every bit as pretty. Steven said, smiling as he set down his paint pot and walked over to his wife at the bar. “But if any of them gets broken I’ll have someone’s guts for garters, mark my word, noble or base he won’t treat my missus’ dishes for dints without paying dearly.”

“Well spoke. I see no difference between noble or common either but talk like that surely can lead a publican to trouble.” A voice hissed just on the edge of hearing and from out of the shadows near the doors which should surely have been bolted still, and yet there he was, a small framed dark figure of a man dressed all in black and smelling of danger. Steve and the others might have leapt into fright or action, but they were rooted where they stood by the figure who moved fluidly and unnervingly otherworldly around the smaller creature even as he spoke. “You are the publican here, aren’t you?”

                Steven wanted to speak, Pam had all she could do to keep from racing off to the back room, hoping to save the children, and the rest of the staff might as well have been statues. In an instant, an incredibly large man had slipped in around the first stranger, ducking under the doorway and drawing himself up to his full height even before his companion finished asking if Steve was the owner. Standing at least seven feet tall, broad of shoulder and seeming even more massive as he came on, this one was finely dressed and with rich appointments that made him seem even more out of place than his giant stature. He was the very fabric of doom and destruction, and then he spoke. A powerful voice came from somewhere beneath his hood, but the shadows up by the rafters and above the candles made seeing him impossible. Impossible too was the volume even of what was clearly meant to be a casual tone, but which came out a resonant grumble of a sound, strong, deep, polished of accent and commanding of authority even in the simplest of statements. “We seek lodging, my partner and I will require rooms for some days and this establishment was recommended in my guidebook.” At this, the hooded head turned from side to side, unseen eyes no doubt taking in the place. “The book may be out of date, but this may suit our needs the better because of it. We require rooms on the ground floor.”

                From neither the Beavers, nor their people came a sound; all were still as frozen as if they had been bewitched by a spell, or some elf magic. The smaller of the two now took his turn to walk around his companion, but rather than addressing him or the proprietors he walked as brazenly as you please to the tap and drew himself a pint, dropping a silver piece on the bar as he took it to lips. “Ale’s good, I could manage here, if the food is half as palatable.” Now at the words of the smaller man and the sound of his coin hitting the countertop, Pam came out of her stupor, at least long enough to defend her cooking. “This here pub has served the same fine fare for near on three hundred years!” she huffed.

“And I am sure it will be fine.” Called the booming voice in the rafters, taking the moment to pull back his hood. “About the rooms, madame, may we see them. I would like to settle in, see to our horses.”

“And adjust your height Al” the smaller man called up. You’re nearly too big for the commons and will certainly draw attention unless you shrink a bit to fit.”

“What? Oh yes, just so.” And with that the taller man seemed to shrink down to only a head above the others in the place and then went on as if nothing had happened. About the food and drink, I’m sure we can come to arrangements. I tend to eat a much and varied plate, while my companion eats simple and but a little, so that between us we will manage in our meals to strike a balance for two.”

“Don’t let him kid you, Miss, he can eat a cow a day and still expect a spread for dessert.”

“A giant?” Davie whispered to Peter at the far wall. “It’s magic. An elf more’s like it.” Peter answered.

Neither giant, nor elf and not magic. The large creature said. “I am a Fay, a scholar from the South and you may call me Lord Arnarius.” Then turning back to the proprietors, he asked. “About those rooms?”

“Yes, my lord, we do have opening upstairs for private rooms.” Pam said, elbowing her husband.

“Yes, yes of course, good sirs, this way.”

“I said I require something on the ground floor, preferably with easy access to your stables.” Simon’s friend Al said at a slightly higher volume, which though still polished in manner and even with him reduced in size as he was, it still came out as a command which rooted poor old Beaver to his place. Fortunately, Pam was quick to step in, explaining that the only room open down there was the public room, a large ten bed area next to the storerooms and not a private area at all, with but a curtain between it and the common room and no exit to the stables, and it had just a few narrow windows for ventilation. It was said clearly enough, but the Fay insisted.  Once they were at the doorway and had looked around, she was sure he would either move on or take a suite upstairs, the former being her real hope even over the coin it would gain them if he chose to stay. Much to everyone’s surprise, including Simon, the Fay found it acceptable and asked after the price.

“There are ten beds in there now and I can get a penny a night per head, so that’s thirty pennies at the least and on weekends I can take in twenty more to sleep on the floors for a half-penny and that makes four silver pieces for that room, plus board isn’t included, that’s an extra penny per head I’d be losing.” She ventured. “A nice room upstairs would only run you sixpence with the food included a head.”

“We will take this room down here and to compensate you your troubles and loss of revenue, can we agree on one gold piece per night. I will make some minor modifications to the room today, should we strike an accord, the addition of a door here, and a remodel inside this public room all at no cost to you and fully reversable should it not suit you when we leave, or yours to keep. Plus, I prefer certain delicacies and in quantity which might tax your stores, so I will give you an additional five gold pieces per day to augment your provisions and allow for any meals and drink we might wish, should we choose to take them here, and you may of course keep any overage which might occur beyond our needs. If we do run over on this agreement at any time, simply present your bills and I will make them right.”

                Well that woke Steve Beaver up and before Pam could say another word he agreed and that was how Simon and company managed to find rooms at the Beaver during the Season and how the stores and fixings came to be considered much better for miles around for years to come. It was also how that fine door and frame came to be in the hallway between the common and public rooms. Many a traveler thought themself princely indeed who would stay afterwards in the well-appointed and beautifully paneled room with its tiled floor, tapestries and rugs. Even the ten old wooden beds were transformed after the pair’s departure into richly carved wooden affairs with good frames beneath the mattresses. Of course, what furnishings, or fixtures the Fay might have had during his stay, none could say with certainty for none entered the room until after he left, and it was then as it remained in after times.