Grief & Grimm

(This was an application for a writing job I didn't get)

The night was dark and storming. A man and a beast man trekked through the countryside.

“Friend. We should turn in. We have been searching for hours,” said Bealal, a massive creature, more than head-and-shoulders above an average man.

“Ugh,” Casey sighed. “You’re probably right, Bealal. Let’s find a place to stay for the night.”

“Come. I know of a place not too far from here,” said Bealal.

Casey and Bealal, exhausted and rain-soaked, walked to a small tavern at the edge of a village. “The Gutted Snake” read the wood carved sign over the entrance with accompanying artwork, depicting a man’s hand pulling inners from a snake’s bowels. A cacophonous clatter of laughter hit them as they entered. Inside, it was crowded, but not full. Casey surveyed the eclectic crowd of revelers. Few patrons scattered about, and a large group at the center of the tavern. Dwarves, elves, men, and beast folk, all in one place, drunk and merry. He then saw a table in the back and dropped down on its bench, dejection only masked by his fixed stoic scowl.

“Do not be troubled, (Corporal) Casey (Grimm) of Lejeune, we will find your Melanie in the morn. But, for now, let us eat and drink. And rest.”

Bealal headed to the bar.

A shady goblin in a cloak walked over to Casey.

“Hello there, friend. Wanna buy a health potion?”

Casey, pulling his dagger reflexively, grumbled at the small creature.

“Go. Away.”

As the goblin ran from him, Casey caught the strange gaze of a hooded figure, sitting in the shadows.

“That’d better be Aragorn,” Casey muttered to himself.

An uproarious blast of merriment erupted from the depths of the tavern. Casey glanced over at the raucous scene unfolding, as a crowd cheers on a maiden. Instinctively, Casey stood to his feet. From behind, her wild red hair made Casey’s eyes widen and her laugh made his ears perk up. The redhaired maiden was downing mead, laughing heartily, and kissing handsome men nearest her.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me?”

Casey pushed his way through the crowd, approaching the maiden from behind.

The corner of her face confirmed it. Though uncharacteristically dirty, it was the same face he has woken up to for the past five years. She was his wife. But she was not herself. Not in the least.

“…and then the barkeep said, "Mind if I push in your stool?” said a fat, drunken swordsman, seated next to Melanie (but receiving none of her kisses).

The captivated crowd hollered at the man’s jest. Paying the crowd no mind, speechless, motionless, Casey took it all in.

“Her clothes? Is she wearing leather? She never wears leather, and they’re worn, like she’s been wearing them for years. A quiver? Arrows? And she’s holding a bow. She did archery when we were younger. Glad she’s taking care of herself at least. Her hair is pulled back like usual, but her face is dirty. I haven’t seen her face dirty in years. She stopped gardening when we got married and had to move on base.”

She turned slightly, bringing the side of her face into view.

“I haven’t seen her eyes this bright since before Cassie died.”

Melanie jumped to her feet, mead in hand, and twirled ’round in celebration.

“She’s still a stunner.”

Stunningly beautiful, yet profoundly different.

“You wouldn’t even know she just lost a daughter a few days ago.”

Bealal was on his way back to the table with drinks, but with no Casey in sight, he looked to the middle of the tavern.

Mead flew from Melanie’s mug and sailed across the crowd, spilling on Casey, bringing him back to himself. Moving forward, finally reaching her, he put his hand on her shoulder.

“Melanie!”

In a blink, the redhaired maiden took Casey by the hand, bending his arm, and dropping him to the floor. As her heeled boot came to rest upon his neck, he looked up at her. She held her bow at the ready with two arrows pointing right at his eyes. The tavern grew silent as the mood suddenly shifted.

“Melanie…? What the hell are you doing? It’s me! Casey!”

“I don’t know no Melanie, stranger. And I sure as hell don’t know you. But if you sneak up on me again you will make good acquaintance with my silver. Ya understand?”

The two silver-tipped arrows gleamed at her mentioning, as if acknowledging their master.

“She doesn’t recognize me,” he thought to himself. Thinking quickly, Casey said, “I meant you no harm, fiery maiden. It’s just… you looked like someone I know from behind.”

“Oh, yeah?” she said with an air of disbelief.

“Yeah,” replied Casey.

As the rotund man beside Melanie looked over the table to Casey on the ground, he said with a laugh, “This one looks like a damp torch, though there is fire in his eyes. Careful, Maura.”

“Whoa, there, lass!” said Bealal, barging through the crowd with his immense size. “Please, do not kill him, I beg you. He has been searching for his wife all day. He is greatly fatigued. And, truth be told, you meet her description perfectly.”

Her arrows were now pointed at Bealal.

“I can assure you, big boy, I am no lass, and sure ain’t no one’s little mis’ress (mistress),” said Maura, sending the crowd into laughter.

“Not a man in all creation strong enough to stick around anyhow!” said the rotund man, sending the crowd into more laughter.

“Here then,” said Bealal as he placed the drinks down in front of her on the table.

Four full mugs of mead, one meant for Casey, the other three for himself.

“Accept it as a peace offering, on behalf of my friend.”

Maura looked to Bealal, Casey, and the mugs of mead.

Looking to the rotund man, Maura said, “Sheathe your sword, Chester.”

Putting her arrows back in their quiver and removing her boot from off Casey’s throat, Maura laughed at Bealal, grabbed a mug, and quaffed it down. Chester grabbed a mug and did the same. Their laughter made the whole tavern to laugh again. Maura makes eyes at the handsome man nearest her again.

Furious, Casey said, “Get your filthy lips off my wife!”

Barely removing her lips from the man’s mouth, Maura steps back down on Casey’s neck.

“You sure you wanna jump in this hay again?”

Bealal’s worry countenance stood out to him from the crowd.

Reluctantly, Casey said, “No.”

Maura extended her hand to him. After a pause, he took it. She pulled him to his feet. A look of bewilderment came upon Casey, as he made note of her increased strength, nearly hoisting him off of the ground with minimal effort.

“You new here, stranger?” said Maura.

“Yeah… definitely,” said Casey.

“Well, in that case—uh, Casey, I am (Maura Redmane) Silver.” And with a gesture of her mug, she said, “Welcome to the Kingdom of Stone Guard.”