Our story begins in a modest country inn and tavern, run by a feisty young woman, known far and wide for breaking up any and all fights in her barroom herself. On this particular spring day a young merchant is need of a place to stay, and chooses our lovely inn.
The inside is lit by the dominating fireplace which faces the bar, behind which is the feisty young woman. She is engaged in a conversation with an older man as she pours his drink, only glancing up at our merchant's entrance. He stands hesitantly in front of the door, and she breaks off her conversation with the man as she finishes pouring his drink to come over to him, "What can I do for you?"
"I'd like a room for the night."
"I can do that, would you like dinner as well?"
"Yes please, something hot if you can."
She smiled softly, "Of course, but it won't be anything to brag about. Go ahead and have a seat and I'll get it for you in just a moment." He nodded, and took a seat near the fire, spring had come but the day had cooled quickly as sunset came and went.
A little while later, when he was finishing off the rest of his soup – she had been right, there was nothing special about it – a fight broke out. He watched with mild interest, so far the two men were only shoving each, but there was a promise of blows if not broken up. Fights were very rarely allowed to come to blows in country taverns, and he assumed that the men's friends would break them up. Much to his surprise the barmaid came out from behind the bar and got in-between the pair. "That's enough! You two know better than to go brawling in my bar – take it outside or I'll skin both your hides!"
His surprise grew when the two men backed off, still eyeing each other suspiciously, but no longer ready for a fight. She smiled at the pair, "Now that's more like it. I'll get you both your last ale for the night and then you're going home." Everyone else seemed to take that as a signal, because one more round was served before everyone left for the night, leaving him alone before the dying fire.
"I'll show you to your room, if you like." He jumped in surprise, he had been so lost in the fire that he hadn't heard her come up behind him.
He nodded as he heaved himself out of the chair. As they headed up the stairs he spoke, "That was impressive, what you did before." She looked confused, "Not many girls I know would get in the middle of a fight like you did."
To his surprise, she laughed. "Oh, that, that was nothing, you should've been here last month when the Bailey girl ran away with the Haddock's youngest – now that was fight." He was unable to ask about the fight, as they had reached his room, but his curiosity was piqued and he resolved to return – simply to hear about this fight, he assured himself.
He was indeed able to return several more times that summer, but the inn did good business and he was never able to catch her alone to hear about that fight, but he did hear stories from other patrons. Apparently she had taken over the tavern after her father died of smallpox, and everyone expected her to fail – to fail spectacularly. But she didn't, she wrangled even her wildest guests into submission, and people came from far and wide to see this barmaid take down rowdy soldiers. Which she always did with almost military efficiency. There was also speculation about just how she did it; some of the stories were absolutely wild.
It was late autumn before business slowed, the first snow would come in a few weeks, and only the merchants and the soldiers were left on the road. As such, the tavern was nearly empty when he came – even the regulars were strangely absent.
Glancing up from the glasses she was cleaning at the sound of his entrance, she smiled. "The fair came to the next town over – even the drunks went to see it."
