Sleepwalker

Chapter One: The Lonely Bard's Inn

“Jenny! Jenny!” Papa yelled around confused. His deep voice bellowed out to where I sat behind the gnarled grey tree. Its branches protruded out allowing just enough light through the bright leaves, jade in color. “Jenny, wherever you are, get your nose out of that book and come here!”

I threw my head back against the tree closing my eyes. Leather binding felt soft on my fingers as I gently snapped the book shut. “Coming, Papa!” I called, tucking the story under my arm. The green fields sprawled in front of me. The sweet scent of summer filled my nose. The gentle breeze tousled my hair. The bright nearly orange locks of hair obstructed my vision.

“Jenny, hurry up! Come on!” He shooed me along; I swear, I saw his eyes roll from across the field.

I hiked up my dress in my haste. Of course, holding my skirts to run in such a way was frowned upon, but between my sarcasm, my lack of grace, and the thick sturdy boots Papa had given me, I was no more a lady than the pond toads.

As I approached Papa, I saw his solid tall figure. His face contorted in attempted disdain, but there was amusement in his charcoal eyes. Grey pieces streaked his mostly rusty hair while rusty hairs speckled the grey of his whiskers. A smile creased the working lines of his face. “What am I to do with you?”

I grinned up at him. “You must offer a huge dowry to any suitor if you are to rid yourself of me.” I dropped the bottom of my dress so that my legs were concealed.

Papa chortled a deep rumble. “There are professors here. They convene every year at an inn. This year, they’ve chosen here, Jenny!”

I smiled for him. The inn, which stood lopsided before me was my father’s pride. Built from his and his brother’s hands before I was born, the inn was miniscule and tucked in a scenic highly uninhabited area. The peculiar travelers we encountered kept my father and I around the ever-lively embers in the main hall for hours listening to whatever tales they may spin. “You’ve earned this, Papa.”

“We’ve earned this, Jenny. You and I.” He ruffled my already mussed hair. “Should we show them the library?” His giddiness resembled that of a small child; the library was the jewel in his crown. We’d accumulated mysterious tomes and ancient scrolls from the stranger travelers that passed through.

I calmed him, “Perhaps tomorrow. I’m sure they’re all weary from the day’s travel. Would you like me to show each to his room?”

“And I’ll put on a stew for the eve.” The door creaked as he held it for me. The wood was faded and ashy with age. The glass was colored in a mosaic I’d admired from the time I was small.

“Thank you,” I responded politely slipping through the open doorway. Overwhelming noise and chatter filled the lobby’s air as I stepped in.

Men of all variations jumbled together in a sea of professors and their students. This convention encompassed all scholars of the region. It was their shining glory where they may boast to others about all they’ve accomplished and, though they may enjoy it less, colleagues welcomed them to listen to their swanks and discoveries.

“Excuse me,” I stated. When my normal tone of voice harbored no settling of noise, I repeated vociferously, “Excuse me!”

The men settled. Many adjusted their spectacles.

I sighed, “Welcome to the Lonely Bard’s Inn. My name is Jenny. Are there any questions before you all settle into your rooms?”

A tall one with round spectacles, many years, and very little white hair queried, “Is that your full name? I am taking an analytical study of popular names of females in different geographic-”