Dungeon 42

Local Customs

Chapter 117

After the pledges, weddings, and contests, the eating and drinking started properly. For the last hours of daylight, the games also continued with renewed fervor from the children. Bess joined in this time, with Tiller and Elim following after her. Erica, on the other hand, was joining in with the village elders seated over by the drink kegs.

As per their plan, Elim had supplied a few barrels of cider, and Erica was taking up the duty of handing them out. Tiller and Elim had both respectively offered, but she’d waved them off, saying it was nice to catch up with the adults while they looked after Bess.

Bess, for her part, made a point of playing every single game and then doubled back to the one she liked best. That turned out to be a knockdown game where she aimed a ball on a string to pass by, then swing back and knock over a piece of wood. She wasn’t great at it, but none of the other kids were either and they all had fun with it.

When proper darkness came on, everyone returned to their blankets to pack them up for the night. Newlyweds and children would be heading home soon, while the adults stayed out and made use of the feast tables rather than blankets. The dancing had also taken on a different tone as they moved from whatever patch of grass they fancied to around the crackling bonfires.

After eating, Bess had shuffled around on the picnic blanket, already drowsy like most of the younger kids after a long day. She was wearing Erica’s prize ribbon as a necklace, understanding the tie as her grandma winning first place and was clearly disinterested in alternative ideas. Elim picked her up, carrying her over to a kind of communal children's nap area. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a hay pile with a couple of quilts over it, but it did the job.

“You're still thinking about making a deal,” Erica said quietly. They were alone, but it still gave Tiller a start. While they’d been working on the dishes for the fete, Tiller had confided in Erica regarding her frustrations with Elim.

“Won’t be anyone's business but mine after he cuts me loose,” Tiller replied sourly. She understood it was up to Elim to decide whose company he kept. It just stung. She’d enjoyed being around him and his family. It was genuinely the first time she’d simply been accepted, talent included, with few questions and no fear.

“And if he doesn’t?” Erica asked. Tiller looked at her questioningly, but couldn’t read anything of use in the other woman's expression.

“Then we'll have to talk about it,” Tiller said after a moment. 42 had warned against making deals behind Elim's back. She’d also declined to make one with her already, so Tiller supposed the entire line of thought was academic. Not unlike the idea of staying, since Elim had already made it clear that wasn’t going to happen.

“Fair,” Erica said and chuckled. Elim was taking his time it seemed, but when Tiller looked back toward the kids, she didn’t see him. He might have gone off to join in the feasting and heavier drinking that was starting up.

Tiller swallowed reflexively. Being anonymous in a crowd was one thing, having people look at her curiously and want to talk was another. She’d be fine if Erica went with her, but the idea of heading over on her own was enough to make her sick to her stomach.

“Ehm… Forgot my shawl at home. Be a dear and fold up the blanket while I get it?” Erica asked. Tiller just nodded, not registering the request properly. She already had the blanket half folded when she realized the walk from the green to the house and back was nearly a half hour. She’d been ditched.

“Tiller, everything alright?” Elim asked, causing her to start.

“Fuck,” Tiller hissed but then laughed.

“My Ma’ take off?” Elim asked, his tone betraying only mild amusement.

“Yeah… What are the flowers for?” Tiller asked. He was carrying a crown and already wearing one.

“Ah, well… You don’t have to but it means you ain't lookin, so to speak,” Elim explained. A hint of embarrassment came through despite the dark.

“Lookin for what?” Tiller asked, doing her best to sound innocently confused. She accepted the crown though, and was barely able to make the flowers out, more or less, in the dim spillover from the bonfires. They were white with pinkish centers, though she had no idea what they were called. Flowers had never been of much interest to her.

“Well… To get hitched. Anyone caught out tonight gets married in the morning. Not that everyone who does gets caught but… Wearing flowers means you're spoken for or not looking,” Elim finished, barely getting through it. Tiller had already put on the crown, not interested in having the local boys trying to court her out of her britches.

“Don’t imagine many of them would have been willing to try. You’ve got a reputation for not taking kindly to anyone getting too close to the women around you,” Tiller said, laughing.

“Anyone I’ve scrapped with over a woman crossed the lady first. I just taught them some manners,” Elim said with a chuckle.

“Fair,” Tiller said simply.

“Shall we?” Elim asked, offering her an elbow. Tiller accepted, and was a bit surprised that they were heading more toward the bonfire and dancing rather than the food. It wasn’t like she was hungry, but it was unexpected.

“Wearing the same kind also… families usually do that,” Elim added.

“You about to tell me I’m like a sister to you?” Tiller asked archly.

“Gods no!” Elim said quickly. Tiller was a bit surprised by the offense in it. She was glad they were closer to the bonfire so she could see his expression. She might have thought he was upset if she couldn’t make out that he was embarrassed.

“Alright, only child, it is,” Tiller said, holding her hands up in surrender. Elim looked surprised, and then laughed, and the tension went out of the moment. Rather than say any more, he offered her his hand as they approached the outer edge of the ring of dancers. A little confused, she took it and found herself being pulled into the current of the pattern.

Having no idea what she was doing, it took Tiller a few rounds to pick up on the steps. Until then, she was being dragged along by Elim and the girl on her opposite side, rather than anything that could be called dancing. Neither one of them said a thing, but she could see a smile on Elim’s face that she was pretty sure was at her expense.

Tiller had half a mind to just run out of the circle and go hide at the food tables when the music changed. She found herself being pulled suddenly in Elim’s direction and spun in a circle. Rather than a chain of dancers, this time, they paired off.

“Hey there,” Elim said, laughing. He looked gleeful, and a bit younger than normal for it. Probably his actual age, rather than the more ambiguous aura of “father” he tended to give off. Tiller would have said something in reply, but was a little too busy catching her breath. The new dance was still fairly fast-paced, but not nearly as fast as the earlier one.

“Doin’ alright?” Elim asked with concern. Tiller nodded, but he still steered them out of the flow of other dancers.

“I’m fine, just not used to dancing,” Tiller admitted. It had been a while since she’d had to do so much, even in the way of combat drills. The dancing had honestly felt more strenuous than the training scouts underwent. They were mostly focused on riding a horse well, after all.

“S’all right. We can take a break if you want,” Elim offered. As Tiller considered the idea, she finally registered that Elim still had an arm around her shoulders, just as he’d had when he’d led her out of the dancing.

“For a minute, then I’ll be good to go again,” Tiller said. She’d honestly liked it, despite being terrible at it, and was reluctant to mingle.

“Alright. By the by, did my Ma say why she was leaving earlier?” Elim asked.

“She said she was going home to get her shawl,” Tiller replied. Elim went still, then inexplicably started to blush.

“What?” Tiller asked, confused.

“Nothin’, want a drink before we go again?” Elim asked. Tiller nodded, and was relieved when he produced a cup seemingly from nowhere rather than them having to go to the feast to get something.

While Tiller drank, Elim did his best not to start laughing. He’d seen his mother walk by on her way to get Bess while he was getting flower crowns. She’d taken off for the house carrying his still sleeping daughter, the shawl she supposedly needed wrapped around the little girl. She wasn’t even trying to be subtle this time.