The Queen's Admiral

Chapter 22: Family Reunion

A prince-turned-beast returned again to human form due to the love of a beautiful maiden.  It was the stuff of fairy tales, just like the books Mother read to me at night.  Yet, I had no doubt that Lt. Andersen’s tale based on what old man Chip told them was true.  It wasn’t any stranger than a boy with ice powers or being a princess mermaid or a Queen whose glowing hair can heal and restore youth.

“So did they live happily ever after?” I asked Lt. Andersen as I peeled my third potato.  He just finished narrating how Chip told them Belle married the beast whose real name was Prince Adam.

Lt. Andersen pouted.  “Well, not exactly, Prince Fredrik.  I supposed they did for a time, but then life catches on even for fairy-tale like couples…

We reached the Rose Inn just as Chip ended his story with the ball at Prince Adam and Belle’s wedding.  The Inn turned out to be a large two-story country house nestled in the middle of a wooded acre.  The house appeared to be quite old with a design that I estimated was popular more than fifty years ago.  Still, it looked sturdy, well-kept and inviting with its well-tended flower beds at the front and the building painted in warm earth colors.  Inside, the inn had simple but comfortable furnishings and bright interiors.  I particularly loved the paintings of rustic scenes and the country accents that decorated the walls.  It reminded me more of a home than an inn.  I’d say it was the best-looking place we’ve come upon since we left the castle of Tastris.

Three young children came running to meet us and Chip introduced them as his grandchildren. Chip’s wife, a pleasant buxom matron named Anabel greeted us.  She cleaned my wound, fixed a sling on my arm and settled me immediately on a warm bed in one of the rooms.  Every manner of comfort was provided to me that I immediately fell sound asleep. 

Early the next morning, I decided to take a quick tour of the house before breakfast.  I found a door that led to the back of the house which opened to a magnificent garden full of rose bushes.  I marveled at the beauty and the devoted care given to the plants that made them blossom in abundance. 

I strode along the gardens until I came to the center of it.  On a stone pedestal was a carved wooden rose encased in a dome of glass.  Surrounding it were stone carvings in the shapes of rather odd items: There was a clock, a candlestick, a teapot, a footstool, a stove, a dresser, some dinning and kitchen utensils, a complete set of musical instruments, and even a hat rack, a carriage and a feather duster.  There must be several dozen of them and each item was labeled with a name in flowing script.  I read some of the names: “Lumiere,” “Cogsworth,” “Mrs. Potts,” “Sultan.”  They were all beautifully carved and I could tell by the details that great care was taken to make them.  I turned my attention to the pedestal with the rose and noticed that the lifelike carving was labeled with a single engraved name: Pierre Maurice. 

I pondered the significance of all this when I heard a voice call out:

“Pierre, is it you?” a weak male voice stuttered from somewhere behind a cluster of bushes.  

I followed the voice and saw behind the bushes an elderly man seated on chair with a blanket on his lap.  In front of him knelt Captain Westergard.  An old woman stood behind his chair while Queen Elsa remained at a polite distance. 

The old woman seemed about to introduce Queen Elsa, but the old man’s attention focused solely on the Captain.  An overjoyed smiled creased his wrinkled face.

“You’ve come home!” he cried out.  “Oh let me hold you Pierre! I’m so sorry, son!  I never should have sent you away!” He embraced Captain Westergard who looked uncomfortable in the old man’s arms.