The Stranger - A LGBT Contemporary Fairy Tale

Chapter 2

All throughout the evening the storm rattled the window panes with gusto. The locals went about their evening business of drinking, storytelling, and raucous laughter without paying much mind to The Stranger on the bar stool in the corner. In fact, the angry reminders of the nasty storm moving in gave them pause more frequently than the oddly dressed and unassuming stranger.

Although every now and again a local would look up and see him there watching them. An ill-at-ease feeling would nag at the person, and they would turn to say something to their neighbor about the odd fellow. However, the second they would lean into their neighbor's ear, the thought they had been holding in their mind would move right through their brains just as swiftly as the early autumn storm winds, and whoosh—out it would go again! A haze would pass their consciousness, and they found themselves scratching irritably at their scalps as if it could bring the thought back. And so it was with every single person in the tavern that evening.

The Stranger sat and watched all the townsfolk. He drank in the scene and its inhabitants slowly, in much the same way he sipped his ale. When the last person had left, it was only The Stranger, Barb, and Greta left.

Barb leaned over the bar in quiet conversation with Greta. The Stranger was sitting somewhere on the periphery of their minds, but they did not acknowledge him openly as they talked.

"Greta, you know how I feel about you. I don't want to press but—"

"I know, Barb. I know I need to move on. I just feel torn not knowing for sure." Greta drained the last dregs of her ale and set her stein down quietly. She stared at the last droplets in the cup intensely.

Barb came over and placed a hand on hers. Greta looked up, and there were two single tears falling down each side of her face. "I loved Tomas. I did. I'm certain he's passed. It's been 14 years since the war ended, and if they were going to find him, I'm sure they would have by now. I just—" She broke off. Looking away sharply. She chastised herself inwardly for her lack of control and the sentimentality she took great pains to conceal more often than not.

"Greta, I'll wait. I've waited this long. What's a few more months or years." Barb patted her hand gently.

"It's not just Tomas. You know the townsfolk will talk. They'll treat us differently."

"You think they don't already know how I feel about you? They'll talk for sure, but let em'. I don't care anymore. If you need more time though, time is what I'll give you," Barb said.

Greta smiled weakly and nodded her gratitude. Then she wiped at her eyes briskly and shook her long mane of ringlets off her shoulders. "Well, I've stayed later than I should—as usual." She sighed emphatically. Her 'no-nonsense' demeanor was back in full swing. She gathered her things and left. She did not even say goodbye to The Stranger. For that matter, she had completely forgotten he was there.

Barb was happily polishing her glasses and moving about her nightly closing routine of tidying up and setting up for the coming day.

The Stranger spoke. "Do you have a room I might rent?"

Barb startled. "My goodness man, I thought you'd left already." She mumbled and then walked over to the end of the bar where The Stranger still sat. "What'd you ask me?"

"I was wondering if you might have a room I could rent? Your young shepherdess on the edge of town said this was the place to come."

"Ah, yes, that would be sweet lil' Evie. She would be right, and as a matter of fact, I do. It might be a bit dusty though. The season for visitors is a month past, so I haven't cleaned it."

"As long as it's warm and dry, a little dust never bothered me."

"And how long will you be renting it for?" Barb inquired, hoping to glean a bit of information about The Stranger.

"Well, that depends —"

"Depends on what?"

"Depends on how long it takes to get my work done. How about each morning I come down for breakfast, I pay you for the next day's occupancy? Would that be acceptable?" Barb was about to open her mouth and object, but then The Stranger quickly added, "I forgot to mention, I'll pay you twice the daily rate of your normal seasonal rates."

Barb's brow furrowed, and it was clear she was struggling. Twice the daily rate would be ludicrous to refuse! She sensed the man was guileless. Gods knew she had seen her fair share of people from every tapestry of life. She didn't think the man to be dangerous, but there was something unsettling about this stranger she couldn't quite place. The Stranger merely watched Barb in her struggle and waited patiently for a reply.

"Alright, stranger, I suppose I'd be an idiot to turn down such a business proposition as that. I'll expect you to hold to that agreement and pay me every morning if you plan to stay another day. Would you rather pay weekly? Seems that would be more convenient?"

"Convenient for whom?" The Stranger said simply, without bite or bitterness.

"Oh—well, I meant no offense—" Barb stammered and rubbed the back of her neck, looking embarrassed. "Have it your way, sir. If you want to pay daily, it's fine by me. Follow me and I'll show you to your room."

The Stranger stood up and followed Barb to his room. It was cozy and suitable for an occupant of one. A small fireplace was nestled in the corner, with a simple bed and bureau for clothes.

"Will this do?"

"It's perfect," The Stranger said pleasantly, and he meant it.

"Alright. Well, the wash room's down the hall on your right."

The Stranger had entered the room and was looking around. Barb stood in the doorway. She was about to ask The Stranger something. The thought was there, hanging loosely on the tip of her mind, and just as she was about to say it, The Stranger said, "Well goodnight, Barb."

"Uh yeah. Goodnight to you too."

Barb scratched her head, trying to think what it was she was going to ask but just couldn't remember. Finally, she climbed the stairs to her own modest living space and got ready for bed. Upon getting in bed, she only vaguely remembered that she had a guest in her visitor quarters downstairs, and she had a mind to ask them for their name. However, that was quickly forgotten as she slipped into deep slumber, only dreaming of a familiar pretty lady with golden tresses.