The Acolyte

The Long and Winding Road - Part II

"SUNRISE!"

Once again you were jolted awake by the voice of one of your deities. As you recovered from the call, you realized George was no longer in the tent, while Ringo stretched and smacked his lips. "Good morrow," he greeted through a yawn.

"Good morrow," you replied, catching his yawn.

The two of you crawled out of the tent to find the campfire reignited and glowing in the waning darkness under a small cauldron, a cauldron you could not recall any of the Four carrying. The contents of the vessel—a lumpy, wheaten mass—were being tended to by Paul, who stopped stirring when he saw you.

"Mornin', dear!"

"Good morrow! Where did you find a cauldron?"

"It's mine! Part of my set!"

"It looks dreadfully heavy. I can help you carry it today if you like."

You realized the error of your words too late, but Paul responded with only a flash of a scowl this time. "That's alright, dear! It's quite easy to carry after a shrinking spell!"

"That's good!"

"Yes!" he laughed, then resumed stirring.

You peered into the pot. "What are you making?"

"Frumenty."

"I don't think I've ever had that before."

"Oh, it's delicious! Boiled wheat and honey and Canela's Bark and elder grapes and..." He leaned in conspiratorially. "Just a dash of mead!"

"That does sound delicious!"

"Yes, but it'll be a while before it's ready. Go freshen up in the river, John should be finished by now."

John was indeed finished freshening up by the time you arrived, and was changing back into his clothes. As you walked past him to find a changing bush all your own, you finally caught a glimpse of what the shapeshifter wore under his cloak. A waist-length, long-sleeved canvas tunic spilled out of a black leather vest fastened together with brass clasps. Below were dark blue canvas trousers and leather-laced shoes that reached his ankles. The cloak was the last item to adorn his body and flew around his shoulders, making the outfit disappear as if by magic.

The sun lifted itself entirely out of the horizon by the time you stepped out of the river. You switched places with Ringo, who practically dove into the water at the sight of it, glad to be wet even if it wasn't with the ocean. You let your clothes air out by the shore in lieu of a wash, which ensured they merely smelled of sweat rather than reek of it when you put them back on.

When Ringo returned to camp, washed and cloaked, the pot of frumenty was finished. At Paul's invitation, you all gathered around the cauldron, and he handed out clean bowls while speaking in verse.

In droghte of mid-sommer, us sirenes journee,

With human compaignye, with guitars but no gurdy...

He traded his stirring stick for a ladle and poured the first serving into George's bowl.

To seke the livelihood borne of oure nature

Verses wonne lyf by their humble creators...

Paul served you next, then himself and John. Ringo was the last to receive a full bowl.

But first, we dyne on frumentee, swete and rich

May it fully sate youre stomach's ytch!