At The Sign Of The Happy Helg

Chapter 5

John was woken again by someone clearing out and rebuilding the fire. Through bleary eyes he watched her work until she had the fire blazing brightly. She wiped around the hearth with a damp cloth, stacked a few more logs to one side and then, her work done, looked up and noticed John watching her.

"Morning, Sir!" she murmured. "There's hot water in the jug over there." John noticed the tiny wash-stand in the corner of the room with a rose-adorned jug and a matching basin next to it.

"Thanks," he said.

The maid left. John raised himself on one elbow; Ronon was long gone and Rodney had been abandoned by his bed-mate. John's throat was aching and he wasn't looking forward to getting up, even with the fire lit. But when the maid had left the room, the scent of cooking breakfast had drifted in through the door and John's stomach gave a peremptory order.

He pulled one of his blankets off the bed completely and shuffled over to the washstand with it draped over him like a cloak. He poured some of the rapidly-cooling water into the basin and had a very cursory wash beneath the blanket. John dismissed the idea of a shave and then flung on his short-sleeved t-shirt, now dry, the long-sleeved one and the fleece. His tac vest appeared to be dry too, at last, and John thought about putting it on just for an extra layer, but decided against it. He wondered how it could still be so cold with all the fires they kept lit in this place, but then realised houses must have always been this way before central heating, insulation and double glazing.

He clumped down the steep, uneven stairs and turned right at the bottom, guessing that breakfast would be served in the parlour. A woman was remaking the fire but she turned when John entered and, wiping her hands on her apron, came toward him, and vigorously shook him by the hand.

"Lillaina Holden," she said, "but everyone calls me Lil." She was a tiny woman, not nearly up to the height of John's shoulder, even with the bun on top of her head, from which curls of hair were springing free. She had a friendly, round face and her cheeks were red and shiny, presumably from spending most of her time in a hot kitchen.

"John Sheppard," he croaked. "Call me John."

"Oh!" she said, her brow furrowing in concern. "I was going to ask what you wanted for breakfast, but I know exactly the thing! Lots of sore throats and colds going round at this time of year." She ushered John over to one of the settles next to the fire, plumping up the cushions before he sat down and clucking in motherly concern. She pulled up one of the tables. "There. You can eat in front of the fire and be nice and cosy. I'll be right back."

John closed his eyes and basked in the heat. He felt like a lizard, soaking up energy from the sun. He heard the back door open and close. Teyla sat down next to him.

"Good morning, John," she smiled.

"Morning Teyla," he rasped, drawing a look of concern.

"You have caught Rodney's cold?"

John shrugged. "It's just a sore throat. I'm fine. Ronon went out early," he said, changing the subject.

"Yes, he is back now," said Teyla. Teyla told John what Ronon and Maddy had found in the forest. "She has gone to tell her father. Maddy thinks the farmers will organise a hunt."

John looked thoughtful. "It might mean this guy Colsen comes back sooner. We can get our trading contract sorted out."

"Perhaps," said Teyla calmly. "Where is Rodney?"

"Still in bed."

"No, I'm not!" said Rodney, plopping down onto the settle opposite. "What's for breakfast?" he asked, rubbing his hands together.