The IRE of Winter

Chapter 24: THE CHASE

The innkeeper plumped the tankard on the table giving me a curious stare, she's an old woman, olive skinned and curly brown hair. Her hazel eyes darted to my wrapped wound as she studied me, tracing my arm, she raised a brow .

'Have you seen enough?' I blurted. 'I didn't come for work.'

'You sure you  want no lots of silver, dear miss? I know of a man who would pay gold for a maiden like you,' she whispered. 'Maidenhead's a costly thing around here.'

'Do I look like a whore to you?' I hissed. 'I've killed a first man who laid a hand on me?' But I didn't make a fuss and remained seated, collecting my manners this time.

'Easy, quite a temper you have,' she flinched with a grin. 'Odd to see a woman entering a brothel and asks for food and drink and not for lonely men.' She snapped back to her senses and forced a wide smile, revealing her yellowish crooked teeth, 'Here's your apple juice, sweetling, take one sip at a time...enjoy!' and she slid back to counter after picking up my plate.

The Lonely Maiden, that's what was written on the board sign hanging above the entry door, with red lights flickering through the inn's glass window. I am lonely indeed, I sighed, thinking if finding this place was destiny or ill chance.

I couldn't believe I'm sleeping inside a whore house! I couldn't find a more decent house to stay for the night, all were occupied if not rented and this whorehouse was more of an embarrassment rather than luck.

A room costs two silvers, a very high price for a small room with a single bed and a free bath. The food was the only consolation I had, goat cheese and soft bread, dried fish and salted eggs and white wine to drain the food down. I had my fill, thanks to the few coins I stole back in the vale.

A taverner played a sweet song with a flute on his lips while a man beat the drums. The music was something...unpleasant to me. Perhaps because I made a judgement of this forsaken place, a throng of drunkards and women selling pleasures and kisses.

Laketown is three days away from Mirkwood, if the horse is fast, and I will have enough time to do my business here before the elves come chase me. Miraak was right, I should have never let anyone fool me again. This time, I'll be more careful not to trust anyone but myself (and Miraak of course. I trust that dragon).

I wrapped my fingers around the tin can, watching the acid bursting in the surface of what many called...the fearsome drink. I've never tasted an ale before or sniffed a cider. The liquid gleamed in bright gold, cold and tempting. This should be good, I thought, I saw most men ordered this drink, I watched them gulped and smashed their mugs sloshing the cider followed by a heartfelt laugh. I looked around, women sitting on men's lap, some wrapping their arms around their necks, some kissed, a few whispered and giggled as the men moved their hands about.

Horrible! This place is just disgusting!

I swallowed raising my shoulders in disgust. The cider must be a wonder, I thought, and I took my first sip, having a little to test it. I shook my head in response to the appalling taste, it's sour and bitter, the kind that lingers to the tongue. Such disgraceful liquid has earned an unconditional fame, I wonder what made this tonic catch too much loyalty. The unpleasant flavor was quite a punch and I have ordered half a tankard.

I took a second sip, more this time. If I could take more of this cursed drink, perhaps it would make me conquer anything, but it was strong and I shivered. Frustrated, I pushed the tankard away shifting uncomfortably on my chair.