At The Sign Of The Happy Helg

Chapter 2

Teyla sat in the parlour, sipping her tea. She wasn't sure what a parlour was, or why this room, in layout the mirror-image of the room the other side of the stairs, was referred to as such, but the landlord, Tam, had told her that their drinks were set out in the parlour and had ushered her in. There was another roaring fire and a similar bar, and the furniture was almost identical. This room, however, was entirely panelled in dark brown wood, shining with a patina of age. It was carpeted; a rich, dark red, that would hide a multitude of stains, Teyla thought. There were floral cushions scattered here and there and the mantelpiece hosted a collection of pottery ornaments: helgs, in a variety of unlikely poses, some wearing bonnets. Having experienced many different cultures, Teyla suspected this room was intended to appeal to the female clientele. She wondered, if she'd been brought up in this culture, would she have become the kind of woman who preferred pottery animals in bonnets to stick-fighting? It would be fascinating to meet such a woman, Teyla decided, with her characteristic openness to the mores of alien cultures.

The other difference in the room was a door to the right of the bar area, which, Teyla found, let out onto a winter-bare kitchen garden with just a few tall stalks of leafy green vegetable, standing sentinel in the rain. There was also a roughly-paved path leading to a small wooden outhouse. The structure looked draughty, damp and cold and Teyla swiftly discarded all the potential arguments she might put forward to convince Rodney that there were any advantages to such an arrangement. She hoped, sincerely, that the food would be good.

oOo

There was bread and cheese and some kind of fruit (not citrus). There were slices of cured, boiled meat; helg, Rodney assumed and thought that, judging by the meat's similarity to ham, it was conceivable that there would be bacon in his very near future. There were also some very sharp, pickled vegetables of various unidentifiable types. Rodney had tried one, but had been discouraged by the involuntary contortions his face had undergone at the extreme acidity, followed by several thunderous sneezes. Ronon was crunching the pickles loudly, his features entirely impassive. Teyla had had a little of everything and was staring meditatively at the flames. John must have eaten something, Rodney supposed, but was now restlessly prowling about, opening doors, as if the escape routes might have changed within the last five minutes.

There was a rattle from the front door and then the latch of the parlour door twitched once or twice. A thud made the whole door shake, the latch lifted and a very small girl entered. She must have had to jump for the latch, thought Rodney, wondering why she was out on her own. The little girl wore a frilly cap, which might once have been white. The cap had slipped low over her forehead and ragged hair stuck out from underneath. She had a woolen shawl, criss-crossed over her chest to tie at the back, and a roughly woven dress which looked too long for her. Wooden clogs peeped out from beneath the skirt and punctuated her progress as she stomped across to the bar, giving the team a cursory, but bright-eyed glance, as if saving them up for later. In one hand she held a wooden pail with a cover. Over her shoulder were slung two bundles of fur, which looked like they had recently been scurrying about, living their furry lives.

With an impressive over-arm swing, the child brought the animals thumping down onto the bar. She scrambled up onto a high stool, setting the pail down next to the furry bodies and, kneeling up, began to yell for the landlord, with astonishing volume for her size.

Tam appeared and smiled at his customer. "Here for your Dad's ale, Maddy?" he asked genially. "What've you got for me today?"

"Two furrens," she said. "Good'uns!"

"I can see that! When're you going to tell me where you set your traps?"

She giggled. "Never, Tam! I knows all the best places and I ain't tellin' you! And Dad said," (Maddy took a deep breath), "'Tell Tam not to give me any o' that helg piss he sent last time, cos I need better'n that if I'm going to put up with you bunch o' brats!'" She grinned, pleased with her recollection of her respected parent's dictum.