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Rings And Fings 24

Updated on October 20, 2014



Jord had rung the old ships bell, orders of last had were being drunk.

Rachael stared into the fire. The huge logs were nearly burnt through and crumbling into the glowing embers sending defiant sparks swirling up the stone chimney.

She was fuzzy, voices sounded like they were coming from elsewhere,

a watery cave type elsewhere.

The warm friendliness of the pub surrounded her. People walked up to the traveller with the last of their ale to cheers with him and the musicians whom had flanked him since the end of their set.

Rachael turned on her stool to face the bar, she picked up her pint and downed the last of Hobgoblin.

Jord picked up her empty glass.

"Well cheers Landlord Jord, that" she pointed generally around the pub, "was a fun night."

"Always good to see you Rachael," She squinted at him, "don't leave it so long next time."

"Ha, I won't."

"And you Sir," He said looking at the Traveller, "we should see you again?"

"Yes," He replied as he jumped off his stool and reached down to pick up his old bag, " I have business in this valley."

"Well, until next time," Jord said then gestured toward the door, "take care out there, that storm is about to become nasty"

"We will thanks." A final bow and a farewell wave to the musicians, "lads."

"take care, see you again." said the jolly bards.

Rachael, realising that having no transport meant that that they would be walking back to the farmhouse in the 'nasty' storm, pointed at the leather bag, "Can you pull an umbrella out for me then?"

She turned to Jord and whispered, drunk level loud, "It's magic you know."

She giggled as she started to pull on her heavy leather jacket.

Jord regarded the tall man who just smiled and said, "let's away Rachael."

"Yes, lets" Just before they started for the door he paused flicked open his bag with one hand and pulled out a heavy old black umbrella with a swans head handle.

He spun it in his long fingers then handed it to her.

She looked back at Jord as they walked away from the bar with a 'told you' smile.

He took a quick detour to the hatstand where his hat and coat were hanging.

Rachael felt the warmth and energy of the pub, it had been a great evening, so much fun and.....

A surge of energy hit rachael in the gut, suddenly all her nerves were tingling, like her whole body was receiving blood for the first time, it felt euphoric and so horribly painful. The pub became a dark and scary for a few seconds. Then just as she thought she could not take it any more and that she would collapse and explode, it was gone.

What was that? Rachael remembered a similar thing like it when she had been walking through the town just after being fired.

The traveller pulled his coat off its hook and swung it around in dramatic fashion as he put it on, his hat seemed to float to his fingers, that too was subject to flambouyant spin before being placed on his head.

He turned and smiled at her as he reached to open the pub door.

She felt okay now so she decided not to worry or mention the strange sensation.

A cheeky swirl of wind barged its way in as the traveller opened the heavy pub door.

She stepped onto the covered deck and braced her open jacket agasint the wind.

the traveller closed the door behind him.

A few stragglers stood around the porch sheltering from the rain as they smoked and waited for their taxis and vans to pick them up.

Rachaels and the tall mans boots thodded on the deck planks as they walked toward the steps that led down to the pubs car park.

Their boots stopped.

Was that it? that feeling, she had been sad to leave the pub, but it had been exaggerated a thousand times, maybe it was a warning. Something was telling her that there was danger outside the pub. Almost telling her to stay in the safe warmth, maybe.

Because there, on the circle of grass which formed the centre of the carpark standing in front of an old Black Mercedes, was farmer Spike and his sons, Spam, Basher and Boo.

The Spike farm boys.

"Oh no." exclaimed rachael.

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