Chapter Text
It had been nearly a month since Clara woke up in Arda when they reached Bree. They had skirted around homes and farmsteads for a while now, but this was the first proper town – or small city depending on how you looked at it – they had come across. And the first place they were stopping in. Apparently, it was the twins usual re-supply point when journeying back to Imladris since the shire-folk were pretty wary of outsiders.
That’s right, Clara knew what hobbits were now. The twins had been doing their best to fill her in on the various races of their world since an anecdote about the hobbits had led to Elrohir getting a karate chop to the back of the head. Look, ‘halfling’ sounded super ableist okay?
As they got closer to the town the twins had taken to her teaching more seriously since they apparently thought she’d stare at people weirdly and get them kicked out. Or, like, violate some cultural etiquette rule. Which, rude, Clara was downright charming when she wanted to be.
Anyway, they were finally approaching Bree by mid-afternoon. The wooden fencing surrounding the settlement helped it blend in to the forest and muddy foothills.
“Okay, so tell me what a hobbit is one more time?” tested Elladan.
“a peaceful, nature-loving race who are half the size of a human and have fuzzy feet”, she said brightly. She had this no-cultural-misunderstandings thing in the bag!
“Great! And what do you never say to a dwarf?”
“You are short and have a stupid beard”
“Perfect!” said Elladan. He leaned over to high-five Clara. “This is gonna go great, I just know it”.
Elrohir cleared his throat a little hesitantly. “And uh, the modesty thing?” Clara had Not reacted well the first time the subject was brought up. And all subsequent times since.
Like, she got it. Cultural differences and all that. It was still stupid. And super shitty that she’d be expected to wear a full skirt and the twins weren’t. Especially in human town like Bree. Not that she had anything against skirts or like, more modest/traditionally feminine, clothing or anything. She totally rocked a mini skirt. Clara doesn’t have time for that internalised misogyny bullshit. It was just the principle of the matter. Clara didn’t like being told what to do, especially for dumb reasons.
It had taken Elrohir getting into an explanation of the practical sides of the current dress for her to agree. Namely not using up all her magical energy on warming spells.
“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll buy some clothing in town that covers my sexy sexy shins”.
Though to be perfectly honest the thought of getting some fresh clothes brought some relief. Cute as her outfit was, comfortable it was not. Not to mention cold. She was about ready to ritually burn her stupid itchy thigh highs.
They pulled up to the gate and Elladan dismounted to talk to the guard-guy. He was a 50-something looking man with a scraggly beard and a big leather coat lined in fur.
“Good afternoon, Mr Waterson”
“Ah good afternoon my lords Elladan and Elrohir!” said guard-guy. “And your, uh, companion”.
The guy seemed unsure what to stare at first. The borrowed men’s tunic, her bright red converse, the short hair or her nose piercing. Or her exposed calves. Gross. If she wasn’t so used to people staring, (Clara liked to think of her style as Urban Goth Queer Warrior Rogue) she’d be uncomfortable. As it was, she still didn’t bother to hold back a glare at the creep. The twins also seemed upset at this and Elladan gave the man a pointed glare while Elrohir shifted so she was hidden more behind his back. Aww that’s kind of sweet of them.
Also, damn maybe there was a point to this whole covering skin thing. Wait, shit, no don’t fall to the institutionalised victim blame-y culture that pervades our society.
“Well, ah, anyway. It is good to see your faces in such dark times my lords. evil creatures are afoot. Why just 3 days ago wraiths walked the town!” the man’s face paled at the memory.
“Wraiths?” questioned Elladan alarmed. “Can you describe them to me? Where did they go, what happened?”
“I apologise my lord, I don’t know much, I wasn’t working that night. But you should talk to Edwin the Innkeeper at the Prancing Pony, he’ll know more”
Jesus Christ this guy sounded exactly like a quest giving NPC.
“My thanks, ……, you stay safe now”, Elladan remounted Siledir. The man professed his thanks one more time and they rode through the gates into town.
There were wood and stone old-timey buildings lining the dirt road. A few people wandering about stopped to stare at them as they passed but most of the noise and chattering came from deeper into the town.
As they reached a sort of marketplace/ square full of people and stalls they slowed.
“Alright, we should definitely investigate the wraiths”, said Elrohir, with a contemplative look on his face. “Elladan, you take Clara to the tailors, I will head to the Prancing Pony and get housing for us, and the horses then talk to Edwin. We can meet back up to buy supplies later on.”
“Yeah, no, I can take my own damn self to buy some clothes, I don’t need an escort.”
“it’s not safe to wander alone”, protested Elladan feebly.
Clara did not even dignify the dumbness of that with a response and instead raised an eyebrow at him until he caved. He sighed.
“Ok fine, but at least take some money with you”
“No way, I’m not accepting your money. Who’s up for trading some fun funky alternate reality cash for actually useful currency?” she grinned winningly.
“Oh me, me me!” Elladan said excitedly, even raising a hand. Clara laughed and swung her backpack around and started rooting around for her wallet. It was always a roulette if she actually had any money on her, broke student that she was. However, in a nice surprise, she had a couple of 10 pound notes and some change that turned out to be a mix of coppers and loonies. She handed them over to Elladan.
He peered in fascination at the notes holding them up to the light, then turned the loonies over examining the goose and the queen. He looked like he wanted to launch into a thousand questions but restrained himself and instead reached into his coin pouch and passed a handful of coins over to her.
They were much heavier than any she had felt before and were slightly misshapen like dug up roman coins. They were also, she suspected, made of actual pure gold and silver. Wtf. Something told her they were not equal in value to what she’d handed over. She peered suspiciously at Elladan. But she’d push the issue later, for now there was exploring to do!
“Alright, then, if you’re sure you’re ok on your own then Elladan you go stock up on supplies.” Said Elrohir. They all dismounted and Elrohir took the reins of both horses.
“Clara please try not to terrorise any locals”
She ignored that.
“See you at the prancing pony in two hours boys!” Clara said then strode off. She didn’t allow herself to feel any hesitation at being alone in an alien world without her friends.
It couldn’t be too hard to find one shop, right?
(SpongeBob voice : 1 hour later)
Correction: it was stupidly hard to find a single shop. How?? It was such a small town! Why were there no signposts?!
Clara must have lapped the town at least twice already and she was getting pretty pissed off. But, Clara, I hear you ask, why don’t you just ask for directions? Asking for directions was for the weak. Clara said she was gonna find the shop on her own, and she damn well will. She would not admit defeat.
However, as she overanalysed her surroundings looking for clues… she did come to a sort of realisation. Or rather she had even more questions.
Namely, where the fuck was, she? Not physically, but like, culturally?
Like, she’d been operating under the assumption this was like an AU medieval Europe. The architecture of Bree seemed to support this. As did the fauna and landscape she’d seen so far. The language the twins spoke sounded very Germanic. And the majority of Bree’s inhabitants were white people.
But that was the thing, not all of them were. Elladan and Elrohir definitely had some east Asian heritage. And she was pretty sure the under shirts they wore were hanfu. She’d seen a brown skinned lady selling curry (with spices!) in the market, wearing a sari-esque outfit altered for the cold. A hobbit had run but her with their hair in braids. And like, she knew that there was always travel and trade routes between Europe, Asia and North Africa. Europe was never as white as certain people would have you believe.
But, like, this implied the existence of an AU Asia, an AU Africa. Expect nobody had said anything and the few maps she had seen didn’t really mention other lands across the sea. (except for the super isolationist secret elf homeland). Were there separate climates within Arda? From what she could infer from the apparently outdated map the twins carried, the continent (country??) they were on all seemed to follow the same Baltic-y climate. So, for example, where did the spices come from since it was too cold to grow them here?
Was this place much bigger than she had thought? That was a scary notion.
Just thinking about it filled Clara with existential dread and that accompanying cold pit of fear in her stomach.
Was there racism? Or was it only prejudice between the different species, like the dwarf travellers who’d glared at the twins as they passed on the road. What if, in say a couple centuries, there was AU colonialism? Was there organised religion? How similar would it be to her own world? Was there homophobia? Was this world just a reflection of her own? Were they parallels that influenced each other? were there more worlds out there?
And that was another thing. This was very much an AU Europe, but it wasn’t, like, a perfect mirror.
Her fashion student friend, Yael, had once convinced her to take a Medieval Textiles course with her. Clara had done her very best to take in as much information as possible so she could understand their passionate rants on the subject. Ha, her professors wished she had that much focus in her normal classes. Jokes on them, all they had to was befriend her and ask her nicely.
But anyway, the clothes she was seeing around her didn’t quite match up to any one time period. They were also far better quality than she would expect. For most of western European history the poor (which was most of the population) had the one set of clothes their entire lives. Sure, it could be altered and repaired to fit current fashions but it was one outfit. They were also nearly entirely in dull greys and itchy boiled wool, since vibrant dyes and imported cotton were far too expensive.
And Bree clearly wasn’t some centre of decadent wealth. There was no gold or silver jewels adorning people. The buildings were all a bit run down. The people looked a bit too thin to be heathy. There were a group of kids playing catch with a stone in the square, which frankly seemed a bit dangerous.
And yet, all their clothes were in shades of pale greens, blues, yellows, oranges. No red, black or purple, thankfully, that would have been a bit too hard to believe but still.
Clara’s very smart detective brain was whirling, and it was giving her a headache. She just knew this would gnaw at her until she figured it out. Maybe she could borrow some history books from the library in Imladris? Oh god, Clara willingly doing studying when there was no incentive. What had the world come to?
She realised she’d reached the square for the 3rd time. Damnit. Huffing, she went and perched on the edge of the fountain in the centre. While ruminating on her predicament and general annoyance at the universe, she didn’t notice the approaching footsteps.
“Um, m’lady are you alright? Are you lost?” said a pretty young woman with strawberry blonde hair, a dark blue cloak and a basket on one arm.
“What makes you say that?” replied Clara, with slight sarcasm.
“Well, you have come through here thrice now, and you look increasingly upset each time. Plus, I’ve never seen you before in town. There’s no shame in being lost in a new place y’know”.
“Maybe I’m just going for a walk while contemplating the tragic love triangle I’m involved in between the two young gentlemen I arrived with.”
“Well, are you?”
“nope”
The woman laughed softly, and Clara grinned.
“So where are you trying to get too?” she asked again. Clara contemplated this for a while. Maybe it would be best to give in. And did it really count as asking for directions is she didn’t technically ever ask? She sighed in defeat.
“Promise you won’t tell anyone?” she asked sadly.
“I promise” replied the woman with a surprisingly kind smile.
“Ok, I need to get to the tailors”
“Ah yes, I figured” the woman said in amusement.
“What is that supposed to mean?” said Clara in faux indignation.
“well you are wearing a men’s tunic m’lady” the woman replied. She laughed again. “c’mon I’ll walk you to the tailors. The streets can get quite winding as you know”. She winked.
Clara snorted and leapt to her feet and followed after the woman into the battlefield streets.
“I am Morlyn by the way”
“Clara”
“That’s a very pretty name. I’m not sure I’ve ever met someone named Clara”, Morlyn looked contemplative.
“Well, I’m not from around here”
Morlyn gave her a, yeah, no shit, look and gestured at her jacket and shoes. Clara chuckled and looked her over in turn. She had a very lovely face and her hair reached down to her waist and was held out of the way by simple plaits. It seemed she’d been out food shopping since her basket was full of vegetables and a loaf of bread. There were carrots, onions and was that fucking potatoes. They were supposed to come from South America! Damn you Arda and your not adhering to scientific fact and established trade routes!
Someone better let her question them on the agricultural practices of this place or she was gonna go insane. Over fucking vegetables.
“Clara? Why are you glaring at my potatoes?” Morlyn was looking at her with raised eyebrows and amusement.
“No particular reason”, her voice did that thing where it went up several octaves when she was trying to appear innocent or hide something.
“Uh huh”, Morlyn looked at her in disbelief. But she looked away and smiled. she cleared her throat. “So anyway, why exactly are you travelling with the young lords? And where did you say you came from?” she tried to appear casual, but it was clear she was very interested in the answer.
Ooh, so, that was the real reason she had approached Clara. She wanted the gossip. Ah well, that was perfectly valid of her. Clara didn’t really mind. She smiled.
“Elladan and Elrohir are taking me to Imladris, shit, Rivendell to seek help with an issue of mine” she said vaguely. “And I am from a faraway land called Canada”
Morlyn looked fascinated and mouthed ‘Canada’ to herself. “That must truly be a very distant land for I have never heard of it and we see many a traveller in Bree. How is it then that you speak such good westron?”
“a magic spell” Clara smirked teasingly. Morlyn huffed in amusement and turned away to hide a fond smile.
“You are truly a very queer character lady Clara”
Morlyn was quite alarmed when Clara doubled over in laughter.
By the time they reached the tailors the sun was setting, casting a warm glow about everything and catching Morlyn’s hair beautifully. The shop wasn’t even down a back-alley or something much to Clara’s annoyance. They came to a stop in front of the window.
“Well, lady Clara I regret to leave you but my brother will be wondering where I’ve gotten to. I trust you can find your way from here?” she smirked, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
Clara grinned and rolled her eyes.
“And uh,” Morlyn’s smile faded, and she looked a little more hesitant. “May I see you again before you leave?” there was a weirdly intense look in her eyes that Clara couldn’t quite decipher.
“Well, yeah, of course. I think were staying at the Prancing Pony” Clara playfully nudged her. “I, uh, enjoy your company”
“I enjoy your company as well lady Clara”, Morlyn’s smile was back in full force. “Well, I must be taking my leave” she shot her one more smile before hurrying of back through the streets.
Clara stared after her before shrugging. Slightly weird encounter but a nice woman, nonetheless.
The door of ‘Fiona’s tailoring and haberdashery’ chimed with a bell. Immediately Clara felt a burst of warmth on her chilled face and hands from the fireplace in the far corner. There were various candles dotted about that smelt of something sharp and herbal, but Clara couldn’t identify what. All the walls were covered in shelves reaching up to a high ceiling, stacked to the brim with rolls of fabrics, threads and ribbons. There were a few dress forms scattered about the shop with various dresses in different designs displayed.
Behind the counter was a woman, in her 60s or 70s, appearing to be darning some socks. She looked up with a sharp eye and ran a disapproving look over Clara.
She immediately turned on her Charm Factor tm. With a bright smile, Clara strolled up to the counter.
“Hi! I’m guessing you must be the famous Fiona,” she leaned across the counter.
“… Fiona was my mother” said not-Fiona flatly.
“Right, well, I’m sure that’s an easy mistake to make”, Clara laughed nervously.
“It isn’t,” said not-Fiona outright glaring now.
“Okay, then”, Clara ran a hand through her hair. Time to change tactics. She got out her wallet and dropped it on the table so it caused a loud clink. She had no idea how much clothes cost or even what any of her currency even meant. Additionally, when she had tried to question the twins on how buying clothes worked, they had shifted about guiltily. Apparently as rich kids, they had never had to buy their own clothes from a human town before. Which, frankly, given how old they were she found hard to believe.
In short, she was totally winging this entire transaction. Hopefully she wouldn’t get completely ripped off.
“I would like to buy two shifts, an overdress and one winter cloak, please”,
“hmph”, the woman looked at her suspiciously then reached into her wallet and shook some coins out onto the counter. She gaped at Clara then the half a dozen gold coins then Clara again. Though she did her best to regain her composure once she’d had a moment to process.
Damnit, Clara had almost definitely been played by those over-generous little shits. She’d have to get them back for this somehow. Like, buy them a stupidly extravagant breakfast or something.
For now, Clara didn’t let the woman’s reaction phase her and instead smiled even wider.
“So?”
The woman cleared her throat and gestured to the shelves. “Pick out one fabric for the dress and two for the cloak. I’ll need to take your measurements. Shifts come premade so you can take them now, but the rest of the order will be ready for pickup tomorrow morning. You also need to pick out the style of dress. The whole thing will cost 3 gold and 7 silvers.”
“Pleasure doing business with you”. Clara smirked, and they shook hands under the woman’s stern eye.
Success!
Clara 1, Scary shop lady 0
The sun had set by the time Clara was making her way to the prancing pony and it was almost certainly past the agreed upon two hours. She hoped the twins didn’t think she’d been murdered and left in an alley.
She was also totally starving. And cold. But she didn’t want to risk casting a spell right in the open like this. By getting warmed up she didn’t mean getting burned at the stake.
She was passing by the square, again, hopefully for the last time. It was now virtually deserted and frankly kind of creepy, especially with the mist rolling in obscuring the already dim light of the lanterns.
Then she heard an alarming noise. There was yelling coming from one of the alleys that led off from the square. Clara found herself hurrying over out of curiosity. she pressed her back to the wall and peeked around the corner and down the alleyway.
There was a middle-aged-ish man, clearly drunk as fuck. He was gesturing wildly with a glass bottle and yelling at, of all things, a cat. A poor, fluffy little tuxedo kitty, looking with scared wide eyes and huddled against the wall.
(One day Clara would learn he was actually angry, rather than scared, but at this point she wasn’t so well versed in feline body language).
“You damn, fucking stray! After all I do to feed your flee bitten hide! Think you can bite me huh?!!” the guy spat at the cat.
Shock and rage flooded through Clara, erasing any previous sense she might have had. What kind of douchebag scum-of-the-earth could be mean to such a poor little cat?
Clara stormed down the alleyway towards the man. It took him a hot second to turn away from the bundle of fluffy perfection and instead focus on the 5 foot of pissed of witch bearing down on him. When he did, he didn’t even have the grace to look scared, the dick.
“What the fuck, dude?” Clara demanded, getting right up in his space. It didn’t matter that she only came up to his chest, it was all about your stance and the glare. The man was blinking at her in confusion, it seemed his drunken state had dimmed his already low comprehensive abilities. He gaped at her for another moment before Clara had enough.
“I asked you a question!” she jabbed him in the chest, that shook him out of his state. He looked down his nose at her condescendingly and scoffed.
“I don’t have to explain myself to some little elven whore,” he sneered.
Clara saw red. She spluttered in outrage and without thinking shoved a hand into his chest. Power rushed through her veins and the man was flung backwards. He hit the wall with a wet sounding crunch and didn’t get up again.
Oh shit.
She hadn’t meant to take it that far.
Well, then… Uh, oops?
Clara worried at her bottom lip and crept over to the unmoving form of the man. Luckily no one else was around as witness. He stunk of alcohol up close. Enough so, that even Clara – qualified dumb party youth – fought back a retch. She could never figure out for to take a pulse, so she put her hand in front of his nose and mouth. Unsteady breath met her.
Oh, thank fuck she hadn’t killed him.
She felt along the back of his head, at the sluggishly bleeding cut at his scalp. The guy would be fine, possibly concussed? She probably shouldn’t just leave him in a dirty alleyway, either way , who knows what kind of ye olde infections he could pick up. But, like, effort. For some douchebag. Guilt was beginning to creep in though.
She compromised. Groaning, she grabbed the man under his arms and dragged him, slowly, out into the square. She then shifted him into recovery position, so he didn’t choke on his own vomit or something. Someone would come across him eventually. He’d be fine probably. Maybe. Hopefully.
And now, time to vacate the scene of the crime!
Clara turned to walk away when a pitiful sounding meow came from behind her. The kitty was sitting in the mouth of the alley, giving her paw a bath, pretending she hadn’t just called for her.
Clara gasped in excitement. She almost forgot! She skipped over and plopped down on the ground a few feet from the stray, as close as she thought she’d get.
“Good evening, sir! No thanks necessary for saving you, I was just doing my civic duty,” she giggled with a wide smile. She slowly reached out a hand and the cat leaned over to give it a sniff, before suddenly giving her big, betrayed eyes. Clara’s other hand shot too her chest at the sudden heartbreak she felt. The eyes, they were too strong!
“I’m so sorry, I don’t have any food!” she cried. But… “y’know what, I know where we can get some”. She leapt to her feet and bounded of. Glancing back, she realised the cat was trotting along behind her. Perfect, she had meant to grab something and come back but this was better. Such a smart kitty!
As they headed off to the inn, Clara cooed over the cat internally. Her entire internal monologue had become a stream of cat, cat, cat, cat, cat, cat, cat…
Clara freaking adored anything that was remotely small and fluffy. And this was the cutest cat ever (she said that about every cat). They were missing a few good meals and one of their ears had a nasty looking nick. But that did nothing to denote from the cuteness, beneath the layers of dust and grime, they had lovely thick fur that was probably super soft and silky. They also had the prettiest amber eyes.
As they walked and more people appeared on the streets, and the cat moved closer and closer to her. She could barely hold back her squee when the cat brushed against her foot.
But finally, Clara made it to the Prancing Pony. She could hear the rowdy crowd and cheery fiddle music a street away. The inn looked like it had seen better days, but it gave off a homey atmosphere nonetheless. There was a strong stench of stale alcohol and several drunks crowded round outside, but Clara easily pushed past them, Cat, as she’d dubbed her, following closely at her heels.
The wave of heat and sound when they stepped inside hit her and Clara grinned in familiarity. While the surroundings were completely different, it still had the general air of merrymaking she was used to in bars back home.
A large man carrying a round of pints shoved past her and Cat, not stopping to turn even when she was sent stumbling.
“Jerk!” she snapped at his back but the sound went unnoticed amongst the crowd. A pitiful mew came from the ground, and she felt Cat’s little feets pawing at her leg. Any temper she felt was overtaken by the high pitched squeeing she tried to contain. Internally she was totally weeping at the cuteness.
“Oh, are you scared of getting stepped on?” she cooed as she knelt down.
“Mew!”
“c’mere sweetie”, she scooped Cat into her arms and kept her tucked safely into her chest. So fluffy! She felt the vibrations of a purr come from Cat. She had been blessed.
Clara wound amongst the rowdy crowd, with skill. The inn was loud and warm and smelt faintly of smoke. It was made of worn wood and stone. The crowd was mostly humans with a couple groups of hobbits and dwarves she could see. The only elves were the twins, sat at a back table near the fireplace with their hoods up. The obvious attempt at some anonymity was negated due to the fact that there clothes were still far finer than anything else in the room. She did not find it at all cute. There were 3 plates of dinner on the table, and she excitedly made her way towards them.
“Clara! There you are we were getting worried; did you get lost?” cried Elladan with a teasing grin. “Did you-?” he cut himself off to stare at Cat.
“…Clara what the fuck?” asked Elrohir, calmly.
“it’s a cat”
“yes, I can see that,” said Elrohir, trying to mask his exasperated tone, “I meant why do you have a cat?”
“I found her”, she said simply. While throwing a human into a stone wall with my magic cause I lost my temper. They didn’t need to know that part. “I told Cat I’d get her some food and I’m a girl of my word”
To demonstrate she sat down at the table, cat still sitting in her lap. There was some sort of ham with her dinner, and she started shredding it into smaller pieces to feed to Cat. she ate them straight out her palm when she held it in front of her. She almost started weeping at the cuteness. Cat’s little rough tongue on her hand and their feets digging into her legs were too much for her. it meant that she missed the minute long silent discussion of the twins. It involved some very animated looks and gestures. It ended with Elladan being viciously elbowed in the gut by his brother.
Elladan cleared his throat, “Uh Clara, you know you can’t keep the cat, right?” he said with a pained expression.
She shoved half a bread role in her mouth to keep from answering. Side note – holy shit never again will she take freshly baked bread for granted.
“Elladan you amateur”, Clara said a moment later. “One does not keep a cat – the cat keeps you. And if a certain kitty decides to tag along for moral support, well who’s to say who’s to blame, y’know?”
“Yours, it would be your fault for feeding it,” Elrohir said flatly.
“whose to say,” Clara emphasized and Elladan snorted and leaned over the table to give Cat scritches under her chin, prompting a round of loud purring. “Look my dudes, are you honestly going to say no to this face?”
She held up Cat under her armpits so the twins could get the full effect of Cat’s cuteness. The clever kitty even let out a pitiful sounding mew. Elladan seemed sold and took the opportunity to stroke Cat’s fluffy white tummy with a gleeful expression. Elrohir tried to hold out under Cat’s gaze for a full 2 minutes and 17 seconds. During which time his face went through some drastically conflicted expressions. But finally, he yielded. He gave an equal parts exasperated, weary and amused sigh.
“ok, ok if the cat happens to follow us… then I suppose there’s nothing I can do to stop it”, Elrohir rolled his eyes as his brother and Clara cheered and high fived. As if he secretly didn’t want the cat just as much as them under his The Responsible One tm persona.
Elladan took this as permission to start feeding Cat the remains of his dinner, while Clara tucked into hers finally. Elrohir cleared his throat.
“Anyway, what we meant to tell you before certain distractions,” he began. “is that we asked around and it seems there was some sort of disturbance a few days ago involving wraiths and a group of hobbits from the shire. Thankfully, our foster brother Estel – though he is known in these parts as Strider – intervened and they made it safely out of town. They are likely headed to Imladris same as us but..” he paused.
“You want to track him down and help first?” she finished.
“uh, yes, we understand if you don’t want to needlessly head into such danger and we can find another guide if you- “
“Well duh, of course I’ll go with you he’s your brother!” Clara cut him off. “I mean c’mon what are friends for?” she smiled.
A slightly shocked expression came over both of the twins.
“You, you consider us friends?” asked Elladan with a slight wobble to his voice and a look on his face that Clara couldn’t identify. Insecurity and panic started coming over Clara as well.
“I mean, it’s okay if you guys don’t feel the same way…”
“no, we do!” Elladan cut her off. “it’s just, we didn’t think you would, um, we actually don’t have many, uh…” he trailed of. Clara sighed in relief that she hadn’t totally read the situation wrong.
“Well good!” she said cheerily. “I mean seriously I’ve shared my tragic backstory with you guys that’s already like a level 8 friendship” she laughed and gave them a reassuring smile until they joined in. The tension slowly dissipated under the group’s laughter.
“so, what’s the plan then?” she asked once they’d all calmed down a bit.
“Well, we should be able to catch up to Estel and the hobbits without too much trouble since we are on horse back and travel lighter. He may be a master of hiding his trail and stealth, but we have also hunted and fought in those woods for centuries. Still, we should head out as soon as possible” said Elrohir.
“well, my clothing will be ready to pick up tomorrow morning so we can leave after then”
“We can pick up any last minute provisions for the cat then as well” added Elladan.
“Cool so are we like decided then?” Clara clapped her hands together. “Cause I for one plan on milking this single night of break for all its worth starting with my first proper bath in a month”
Elrohir laughed, “Don’t worry I’ve already paid for our rooms and to have baths sent up. Up the stairs 3rd room down”
“My gracious thanks my lord” Clara said dryly as she got up still holding Cat. She sketched a dramatic bow that had Cat digging her claws into her shoulders. The twins snickered and returned it with a far more graceful looking bow.
To the bath!
The room the twins had rented for Clara was about the same size as her one back in student housing. There was a single creaky looking bed, a small mirror, a window and, of course, the bath!
Clara let Cat drop onto the bed as everything else flew out of her head at the thought of getting properly fucking clean. She hobbled over to the bath as in her haste started trying to strip out of her clothes while walking, she ended up tripping flat on her face. But finally, finally she reached the wooden tub. She could finally get rid of the smell of horse! No offence to the horses though you’re doing amazing sweetie.
The water had gone cold in the time since Elrohir had ordered it brought up but that was an easy fix. She dipped her hand into the water and summoned some energy to her fingertips. Instantly the water heated up until steam was wafting over the sides. She had gotten very good at heating spells over the last month.
Clara paused only to remove her charm necklace and place it on the bed before throwing of the remains of her clothes. She climbed into the tub and submerged herself under the water. The heat was glorious and instantly started to ware away at the aches she had accumulated. The tingling feeling of the heat thawing at her cold skin. Between the horse riding, the walking (in converse), sleeping on the ground and generally running on adrenaline and denial she was worn out. Eventually she had to come up for air and rested her head on the lip of the bath. There was some sort of linen sheet lining the tub, presumably so you didn’t get splinters.
There was also a wooden rack with some sort of soap that smelt of roses attached to the side. It wasn’t shampoo but Clara would happily take it. As she methodically scrubbed at the grime covering her body it felt like taking of a layer of skin. She carefully teased out the tangles in her hair with her fingers, then her brush. Once she’d gotten as clean as she was going to, she lay back in the bath again, this time with her face above the water. Her fingers absently traced over the thick scar across her abdomen.
Inevitably her thoughts started to drift in a more melancholy direction. But – no. she didn’t want to do that right now. The night was young! She had things to do, people to meet, booze to drink! She shoved the thoughts back behind the Door Of Denial and stood up.
There was another linen cloth left out on the bed to towel herself of with, though it wasn’t particularly effective. She dressed in one of the shifts she had bought, a surprisingly soft light blue wool. There was literally no way in hell she was putting her dirty undergarments back on, so she was going commando. She was seriously considering the ceremonial burning of those bloody scratchy thigh highs. She could do it tomorrow on the road.
Thankfully she had also picked up a few pairs of stockings that came above her knees and were held up by a ribbon tied around her thigh. Her converse just about fit over the thick wool. She redonned her necklace and zipped up her jacket. Technically a shift was an undergarment but frankly the residents of the prancing pony inn could just fucking deal with it.
Finally, she took the opportunity of having a mirror to apply eyeliner. Sure, it was a little weird since she had no other makeup but her little goth soul immediately felt better with her usual thick cat eye.
Whatever it wasn’t like she wasn’t already pretty enough to pull it off. Self-love bitches!
Though in all honesty her hair could really do with a couple of conditioner treatments. Her slight curls were rapidly descending into frizz. As soon as she got home, she was doing a hair mask.
Clara turned to Cat who had settled on the bed.
“Well done on the top notch loaf technique Madame, but now it’s your turn”.
“Mroww!” said Cat dismayed, probably.
“Sorry buddy it must be suffered,” she said with a devious grin. She dipped the end of the towel in the bath water and ran it over Cat’s dirty fur. She distracted her with ear stritches and as the grime and dust gradually came away to glossy black and white fur Cat relaxed. She spread out to expose her tummy also giving Clara a chance to see they were in fact a boy cat. Clara was horrified that she had mis-gendered him. She fell into the trap of traditionally viewing cats as feminine and dogs as masculine. So sorry Cat!
Anyway, as Cat got damper, he joined in the cleaning doing a much more effective job than Clara.
“y’know Cat if you’re gonna stick around I should probably give you a better name than ‘Cat’” she mused. It would have to be something cool. And sleek. And badass. Maybe. Cat could have whatever name they wanted, fuck gender norms.
“What about… ash? Lightning? Forest? Marble?” each name got an unimpressed look from cat. What about a French name?
“Fleur? Soleil? Nuit? Ciel? Noir?... Chien?” she giggled. She looked into his brilliant yellow eyes. They were like gems. Like burning amber.
“Jaune? Ambre? Ocre? Blond?...Topaze?” she sounded it out a few times. Topaze. Topaze sounded right somehow.
“Okay kitty, from now on you are Topaze”, she smiled at him and it seemed Topaze agreed for he gave her a slow blink and settled back down satisfied into a loaf.
She rose and headed for the door before realising she had nothing to use as a litter box. After a moment of contemplation, she propped open the window so he could get out if he needed.
“Bonne soiree Topaze, please be here when I get back”.
She crossed over to the mirror and shot her reflection a wink and finger guns. She picked up and resized her guitar. With one last glance at Topaze she left.
Time to live out her Bard-ly dreams!
Clara headed back over to where she’d left the twins but only Elrohir was there.
“’Dan is also bathing” he explained at her raised eyebrow.
“Cool, quick question, is there any sort of protocol, for uh performing here?”
“…not that I’m aware of?”
“Great, then I’m off to live my Jaskier de Lettenhove fantasies,” Clara clapped her hands together and strode off.
“Jaskier de what? … I don’t want to know”
Thankfully the fiddle player from before had left, so Clara settles in his seat at the back of the room and kicks back in the chair. She strums a few chords to warm up and attracts a few curious gazes but she already knows exactly what she wants to sing. Not like she’s been dreaming of this since she was 9 or anything.
“There will come a soldier, who carries a mighty sword, he will tear your city down, o lei o lai o lord”, Clara sang. More and more people turned to look.
“There will come a poet whose weapon is his word,
He will slay you with his tongue o lei o lai o lord…”
By the next verse, the majority of the room was listening and had caught onto the beat. Soon they were clapping along. Damn right it was a catchy song. Clara had a wide grin across her face as she went into the instrumental verse. Excitement and adrenaline was fizzing through her veins as always when she performed for a crowd.
“There will come a ruler whose brow is laid in thorn,
Smeared with oil like David’s Bay, o lei o lai o lord…”
By the end of the song a few people had joined in on the o lei o lai’s and there were cheers as she strummed the final chords and sketched a dramatic bow. She couldn’t stop smiling and in her excitement was practically bouncing on her toes.
Clara made her way through 3 more songs before she was interrupted. Train song by Fiest ,Sunlight by Hozier and C’hoant Dimein by Cecile Corbel.
She was feeling tired and kind of sweaty and gross by the end of it. A familiar ginger head approached her. Morlyn had changed into deep green skirt, a lavender (purple!!) blouse embroidered with flowers and a silver belt that looked more like a piece of jewellery. Her long vibrant hair and flushed cheeks seemed to glow in the candlelight.
“That was a stunning performance, my lady,” Morlyn was smiling at her and Clara returned it. “I had no idea you were such a skilled musician.”
“Well, we did only meet today”, Clara smirked. “and for the record I am full of secrets. Very mysterious”.
“I’d quite like to coax them out of you…” Morlyn replied, there was a warmth and fondness to her gaze.
“That sounds like a trashy pick-up line”, Clara snorted. Morlyn laughed along with her but there was a tenseness to her expression.
“Oh, sorry no offence, - “
“None taken, its fine- “
“Though if you are ever actually flirting with someone, I can give you some pointers,” Clara said. For some reason this made Morlyn even more tense. She gave an exhausted sigh though she maintained her tense smile. Why? Clara was an excellent wingman. Wing woman? Anyway, all her friends said so. That one incident with Roisin notwithstanding.
Morlyn cleared her throat. “So... do you have any songs that make you think of me?”
Clara pondered for a moment. “Actually… I think I do”
Morlyn smiled a little bashfully and perched on nearby table. It was a song that she’d learnt recently, and it immediately made it to the Bard Dream List. Granted she’d never played dragon age so it might have a weird context but whatever.
“Sera was never an agreeable girl, her tongue tells tales of rebellion,
But she was so fast and quick with her bow, no one quite knew where she came from
Sera was never quite the quietest girl,
Her attacks are loud and were joyful
But she knew the ways of nobler men,
And she knew just how to enrage them
She would always like to say why change the past when you can own this day,
Today she will fight to keep her way, she’s a rogue and a thief and she’ll tempt your fate,”
As Clara sang, she noticed Morlyn was worrying at her lip and her frame was a bit tense. But like, the crowd seemed to like it? So there probably wasn’t anything wrong with her singing?
Clara strummed the final chords to applause. She summoned a coy smile and strode over to Morlyn. The other girl was half a foot taller than her, so she had to look up to meet her gaze.
“What do you think?”
“Well… I am mildly concerned that seem to think me some half wild rogue.”
“For the record I’d consider that a compliment, but… it tells the tale of a fierce beautiful woman. I see a comparison.”
Morlyn’s cheeks flushed red, and she took in a shaky breath. In the candlelight it seemed that her eyes were darker than usual.
“When you put it that way, how can I be offended?” she murmured.
“Well, anyway, do you wanna drink with me? My adoring fans sent over a few pints. No use letting good booze go to waste.” Clara cleared her throat and took a step back. The atmosphere was weirdly heavy.
“Well not to slander my own hometown, but you’ll be sorely disappointed if you’re expecting good beer” Morlyn laughed.
“I’ll eat my backpack if its worse than some of the stuff back home” in her career as a broke student, Clara had had some supremely shitty alcohol. Supremely.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Over the next hour the 2 girls sat at the back of the inn talking about anything and nothing, sipping at awful but not that bad ale. The crowd around them slowly wound down even though it was still only around midnight. Clara suspected it had to do with the ‘wraiths’ the twins mentioned. The people were scared and wanted to get home early.
It was when Morlyn finished an anecdote about her older brother and the conversation came to a lull that Clara realised how close they’d gotten. And also, Morlyn was looking at her lips. Had… she been doing that all night?
Yes. Yes, she had.
Oh god Clara was an idiot. Like holy shit. Now she’d have to renounce her claim of not being a useless lesbian.
Morlyn was leaning in so that they shared breath.
“Can I kiss you?” she whispered. Clara leaned back.
“I’m sorry”, she was also whispering for some reason. It just felt right sort of.
“Oh… no I’m sorry”, Morlyn shifted away so there was a foot of distance between them. Her body language was drooping. “I misread you as one of the uh, lavender persuasion”
“What? Oh no your gaydar is just fine my lady” Clara shook her head.
“my what now-?”
“I just… already have a lady of my own back home”
“Oh, oh”, Morlyn smiled and looked away. after a moment she said, “well she must be a very fine woman”
“She is,” Clara smiled, helplessly fond at the thought of Emily. “I’m very lucky to have her”
“She is very lucky to have you”
Another moment passed and Morlyn sighed and rose.
“well, I best be getting back as the hour is late and my brother worries as you know”. Clara rose as well and smiled softly.
“It was great to meet you. If you had a phone, I’d give you, my number. I wish you well”, Clara said. She really seemed to be picking up on the old-timey speech.
“And I you. My thanks for the drink and the company and the music. I hope our paths will cross again someday.” Morlyn gave a little bow and left.
Clara huffed a soft laugh ran a hand through her hair. She leant back against the table.
“Absolute dumbass…” she murmured to herself.
The twins had long since gone to bed or done whatever it was, they did when Clara slept and they pretended to use their bedrolls. Clara should probably do the same since they were leaving early the next morning. See, she could be responsible when she wanted.
Clara trekked up the stairs to her room and flopped down on top of the covers. To her delight Topaze was still there, stretched out white fluffy belly and all. She kicked of her shoes and fell into a deep sleep eased by the booze.
Clara, however, was woken up not 30 minutes later. She was about to learn the age-old lesson – Cats were insufferable little gremlin bastards.