Bard and His Lia

CHAPTER TWO: BREAKFAST

        The next morning, Bard gathered his broom and his ladder and set off down the stairs, across the narrow lane, and up Lia's stairs.  The smell of coffee and cooked ham and eggs greeted him as he reached the second floor, and soon after so did her voice.

            “Good morning!” Lia poked her head out the kitchen window, grinning merrily.

            “Good morning!” Bard grinned at her, setting up his ladder at the end of her walkway. 

            “How do you take your coffee?” Lia asked him, adjusting the shawl around her shoulders.

            “Please, make it how you like,” Bard answered shyly, flashing her a little grin before he set off up the ladder to avoid having to give any more conversation.  He heard the shutters close below, and set about his work.  He diligently cleared her entire roof and upper walkway the whole way round the house, a matter of twenty or thirty minutes work, since he'd been doing it to his own home for years and had an efficient system.  When he'd done, he found Lia waiting for him back by the kitchen door.

            “I feel much safer now, thank you,” Lia grinned, twinkling, at him.  He grinned in response as he laid down his tools, and brushed the snow off himself, shaking out his coat and pant-legs.  “Ready?” Lia asked, and stepped aside to let him through her door. 

            Inside, his stomach growled at the mouth-watering scent of Lia's breakfast.  A fire crackled merrily in her wood stove, filling the room with warmth that encompassed him, as did her smile, as he entered.  As she took his coat, there on the table he saw eggs, potatoes, and ham, steaming hot and juicy.  To the side were little breads or cakes of a sort he didn't recognize, and three little jars of jams, butter, honey, and a pitcher of milk.  She'd clearly meant to spoil him.  She guided him to the seat closest to the stove and handed him a large, hot mug of coffee.

            “You are very kind,” Bard said, waiting for Lia to sit before he would.  Lia smiled warmly as she scooted her chair closer to the table, and Bard settled himself in. 

            “A favor for a favor,” Lia grinned with a cheeky little wink that made Bard lower his eyes, and passed him the plate of ham.  When both their plates were full, Lia very gracefully filled the space with light amounts of conversation, posing just enough questions about Bard's work and his agenda for the day as not to burden him, and prattling merrily about her settling-in process a little here and there to even things out.  Bard was surprised at how at ease he felt after the first few minutes.  Lia's cooking was entirely delicious; he was accustomed to a rough bowl of sometimes hot, more often cold, porridge in the morning, if not a hunk of bread and water.  It was not that he was so very poor, but that he led a rather spartan life by choice, not out of some dislike of niceties, but rather out of a lack of concern for his own enjoyment or comforts.  This morning however, with the jovial Lia leading him along, he allowed himself to sample all her offerings, and by the end, he was quite happily full, and warm from head to toe.  And where he was normally taciturn and somewhat brooding of a morning, he found himself often grinning, with an occasional chuckle at one of Lia's quips.

            “Ahh,” he sat back finally in his chair with a satisfied sigh, his one-sided grin gracing his lips. 

            “Good?” Lia asked him.

            “Mm,” he grunted, raising his eyebrows.  “A mighty feast!  As it was last night – I thank you very much for your gift,” he told her. 

            “You are most welcome, conqueror of the ice.”  They grinned at each other for a moment until Bard shyly averted his gaze.

            “I should go to the barge and set out,” Bard said, sitting straighter in his seat.  Lia rose with him.

            “I have a proposition for you,” she said, and Bard paused to listen.

            Lia made her way to his coat and held it for him as he put it on.  “The old man who lived here must have hired someone to do his laundry, but I'll be doing my own, and there is no drying line.  So my proposal is thus, and if you're not agreeable to it, I assure you whole-heartedly that there will be no hard feelings,” she paused, until Bard nodded acknowledgement, then went on, “If and only if you find it agreeable, I would ask you to please run a laundry line from my upper floor over to yours, and in exchange, I insist you come and have dinner with me.”

            Bard wrinkled his brow and thought for a moment, the engineering corner of his mind already working out a plan.  “I agree,” he told her, shrugging his shoulders to settle his coat about him.

            “And you're sure you won't mind it running between our houses?”

            “Not in the least,” he assured her.

            “Wonderful!” Lia enthused, folding her hands at her breast.  “What will you need in the way of supplies and or funds?”

            Bard thought for a second and remembered he already had the things he would need.  “Nothing.  I think I can manage with what I have.”

            “Sure?” Lia checked.

            “Sure,” he nodded.  “I'll be home too late tonight, but I can do it tomorrow, if you like,” he offered.

            “Wonderful!” Lia repeated.  “Thank you very much, Bard!”  She beamed at him as he let himself out the door.  “Best of luck today, and oh!  Here!”  She disappeared back inside for a second and returned, thrusting a little cloth-wrapped bundle at him.  He gaped at her, and she giggled.  “Some biscuits to take with you.  Thanks again for your help with the roof!”

            “And thanks to you,” he dipped his head with a half-grin, gathered his tools, and strode away, and again he found himself grinning all the way down her stairs.  And all that day, though he navigated cold and icy waters, he carried with him the warmth of Lia's kitchen.