Rorrim

Inside the Cottage

The inside of the cottage was much different than the outside. Bundles of dried plants hung from rafters, unmarked bottles filled with curiously colored liquids sat on shelves next to bottles full of floating bits of unknown origin. The whole cottage was one big room. On the left wall there was a bed of the standard size and build. On it was an old patchwork quilt who's edges had frayed to some small degree. In the middle was a circle of benches and chairs, facing a large iron cook pot in the center. The shelves of bottles were in the back of the room and a large work space was on the right, littered with odd implements. Scattered across its surface were mortars and pestles of various sizes. Liquids dripped slowly from alembics and traveled from container to container and tube to tube until they finally poured into beakers and flasks for storage. Books with odd charts and diagrams annotated in a sprawling hand lay open with inkwells and chunks of amber to hold their place. The most curious was the crystal ball set inside a circle marked with strange lines and symbols.

"Sit down and I'll get you something to eat and drink." the woman said as she walked to a cabinet set into the same wall as the door. She pulled out a full loaf of bread and a small wheel of cheese and set them on a platter. She also pulled out a ham and deftly cut thick slices of the choicest portions, placing them on the platter next to the bread and cheese. She poured a tall glass of water from a pitcher pulled from a small well in one corner. An indoor well was certainly an oddity. I had never seen anything like it before. She carried the platter over to me and sat down next to me as I started to eat.

The food was delicious. The bread was fresh and the crust crisp, the inside was airy and light with a pleasant buttery flavor. The cheese was tangy and soft with a subtle berry-nut aftertaste. The ham was salty and juicy, the flesh pink and soft, the veins of fat small and evenly distributed so that it practically melted in my mouth. I had not realized how hungry I was until I started eating, but once I had started, I was as ravenous as a pack of midwinter wolves. I ate everything that she set before me and quite literally licked the platter clean. I took the cup she offered and drank deeply from the water of the indoor well. It was as sweet as the finest wine and twice as smooth. Thrice, she refilled my cup and I drank deeply of it, finding in it the perfect quenching of my thirst. Having gorged myself I lounged back on the couch, the lethargy from overeating beginning to set in.

"I thank you for this most gracious meal. It was utterly magnificent." I say drowsiness slurring my speech. Slowly I begin to nod off, being overcome by the efforts of the day. The old lady brought me a large patchwork quilt and laid it atop me with utmost care. Feeling comfortable and secure, I slipped into dreamless sleep.

Slowly, I woke up. I sat up, my head spinning and vision blurry. The blanket that had been covering me had fallen off as I had slept. I held my head and groaned as my vision swam, filled with spots and strange blotches. I laid my head back down on the arm of the couch, trying to get the room to stop spinning. It must have been something in those drinks she gave me. There was something to be said about cheap drinks, they were good enough and the person selling them still cared enough to try and keep your custom. With free drinks you didn't have that reassurance. But how had she done it? I had watched her draw the water from the well so there's little likelihood that she had spiked it in the drawing unless the well itself was tainted. Could she have anointed the cup beforehand with some foul concoction? I needed to get up and get some answers from this lady. Once more, I tried to stand but found myself completely incapable of doing so. How embarrassing. A knight like myself laid low by some few moments of unguarded trust.

Once I felt that the room was spinning slightly less quickly, and my eyes slightly less swollen I opened them and examined my surroundings. There was something odd going on. Where in the first cottage everything had been pristine, everything in this one was filthy. The room was trashed. Piles of filth and grime lay at random on the floor. Large bones sat in discarded heaps, the evidence of gnawing obvious. The plants that hung from the rafters were covered in mold and had long since turned black. The cauldron boiled though there was no heat underneath. The jars on the shelves were no longer full of mysterious parts but obvious and disturbingly identifiable parts. The couch I was sitting on was dingy and torn to pieces. The quilt that had covered me was now a heap of rags.

I cringed at the filth of the couch and once again made an effort to stand, only to fail and slump back down against the disgusting cushions of the couch. Then I began to notice the slightly finer details. Hadn't the counter been on the right? And the bed. That had been on the left hadn't it? What was going on? Everything had flipped from one side to the other. I wanted to throw up. What kind of sick twisted nightmare was this? What happened to the sweet old lady's cottage? Had I been had? I heard someone approach the door, wiping their feet off before they opened it.

Since everything had flipped I now had full view of the door as it opened. In walked the most stunningly beautiful woman I could possibly conceive given even ten thousand lifetimes. In the crook of her arm she carried a bundle of various herbs and plants, tied with twine, some of which I recognized and others that I knew nothing of. She walked over to the counter and set the bundle down, separating out the different plants and placing them into their respective piles. Some she tied together by their roots and added to the bunches hanging from the rafters. Others she ground into paste with one of her mortar and pestles and placed into various jars. The final few she chopped up and added to the boiling pot. This couldn't be the same woman who had fed me earlier, she was a good foot taller and the body was definitely younger. She must be the old lady's daughter.

She stood above the pot and stirred it with a long handled wooden spoon. She bent down and let the aroma envelope her. A single curling lock of her silky black hair fell and lay gently on her porcelain cheek. She stood up and brushed it away. She looked at me and smiled. If forced to pick I couldn't tell you which was more distracting, that perfect smile with teeth gleaming white and perfectly straight, those full lips curving just so, or if it was her eyes, bluer than a sapphire, deeper than the sea, with a twinkle that put to shame every star in the night sky. She ladled out a bowl full of the soup and blew on it to cool it off while smiling that smile and meeting my eyes for brief moments that stood for eternity and passed in a flash.

She walked over and sat down next to me on the couch handing me the bowl. She watched me carefully as I sipped slowly, testing the heat of the soup. It was perfect. Hot enough to feel the warmth as it slid down your throat but not so hot that it burned. It was positively delightful and the company of the beautiful woman made it no less so.

"Are you going to have any of the soup?" I asked, feeling it impolite to eat while others watched. She shook her head. I thought it odd that she wouldn't respond vocally, but that being her personal decision I felt no need and no right to judge her for it. As I began to reach the end of my soup the woman stood up and brought me more of the water from the well. Feeling slightly more wary now I asked her to drink some of it first. She smiled at me and took a slow drink from the glass before handing it to me. I gladly accepted it and drank my fill. Once more thrice she filled thrice I had her test it and thrice did I drain the cup. That combined with the soup made me drowsy yet again. Feeling safe and wonderfully comfortable I fell asleep yet again.