NationStates Jolt Archive

It was a normal day for those in the Free Land of Sheilas and Bruces. Everyone was working hard or at the pub resting their weary feet.

The wooden rather rickety looking building was full of activity. There was a room of to the side which would act as a function room, a wedding was scheduled there in a few days time and preperations where getting underway.

A few bar stools where empty and a large table but still the bar was quite busy by Brucian standards at this time of day. about 12 people where scattered around the reasonably large main room. Things had progressed just as they had been since the Brucians and Sheilas. Beers were poured and drunk, games of pool had been won and lost, deals where being made.

Mates sharing stories and experiences over a beer, it was the foundation of Brucian social interaction. Little did they know things would be soon turned upside down.

*bump*

Looking harassed, sweltering and rather dusty, two very out of place middle class Europeans entered the unsafely constructed pub and blinked as their eyesight adjusted to the dim light. They stood close together and as far away as was polite from the loud and earthy locals, more concerned by the foreigner’s over-friendliness than with the much more common suspicion that one usually encountered in backwater provincial towns.

Annegréthe Vaulgêrnadal and her husband Fálco Varmädottä had arrived in the country only this morning, after their holiday ferry had been unexpectedly diverted from its more civilised destination to this location in the middle of nowhere. They had been informed that one could find rooms and accommodation in this curious beer hall-cum-focal point of community interconnectedness, but as they peered around uncertainly they were no longer so sure.

‘Well go on then, go!’ hissed Annegréthe, poking her husband rather savagely in the ribs with her elbow. He grimaced a little at the pain, and more at the task she had set him, then answered with a dutiful ‘yes, dear’ before walking hesitantly towards the counter, whilst his wife hung back near the entrance.

Fálco mumbled his introductions and then looked alarmed as the gruff bartended asked him to speak up.

‘I said, good sir, my name is Fálco Varmädottä, and I was hoping that my wife and I might find a room to stay the night?’

"Then why didn't you speak up before, mate." The bartender replied Jovially, reached around and slapped him on the back.

"I'm Bruce and this is my little castle, a beaut ain't she." despite whatever his new visitors thought of his 'castle' it was clear that Bruce took great pride in. His face was worn by the dirt and the harsh sun of the region but neverless a sort of inner glow could be seen.

"We've got a few rooms ready for 45 bob a night, which includes a free beer."

"The only way he can sell the stuff." joked a man sitting at the table with a group of 3 others another man and 2 ladies. The others in the group laughed, not to forget the 4 empty schooners in the middle of the table and another 4 half drunk in their hands.

The bartender chuckled, "Yeah good one Bruce, hey isn't it next time your shout?" calling out in a loud voice over his new house guests to the interuption.

"Hey, nah, you're not going to get out of it this time - your going to pay for next round now. Bruce." said the other man in the group.

"Bruce.. but I've."

"No buts Bruce, go up there and and pay Bruce now."

"Fine. alright Bruce." The first man got up and made his way to the bar.

"Just a moment Bruce, I'm just dealing with the upstairs rooms." the bartender cakled out.

"Oh, sorry about that, how many nights would you be looking for? a day, some, a week, a few weeks or a fair while?"

‘Ah hah, hah-hah,’ laughed the gentleman uncertainly, almost bowled over by the meaty bartender’s overfriendly greeting. Fálco re-straightened his glasses, and his back, and attempted a smile. ‘A beautiful castle it is, sir,’ he agreed, ‘and a pleasure to meet you, um, Bruce.’

Fálco looked hesitant but decided that even a crushed hand would be preferable to dying of shame at his own rudeness, so he offered a soft, slender-fingered, pale white hand to the bartender. At the same moment he turned to his wife, who still wavered warily at the door.

‘Come sweetheart, say hello to the gentleman,’ Fálco called, with a note of instruction that was ill at home in their relationship. He smiled at her hopefully.

Annegréthe drew closer to the bar and, with her heeled boot, stomped on her husband’s foot in a manner that was anything but discrete, feigning a meek smile for him to illustrate her point. The lady turned to the bartender.

‘Good morning, Mister Bruce, I’m Annegréthe Vaulgêrnadal,’ she lisped politely, cautiously extending her hand.

‘Did you hear the bartender, dearest? We receive a complementary beer as well,’ explained Fálco with a wince, now in far more humble, thus husbandly, a tone.

‘Oh wonderful,’ Annegréthe brooded as she looked at the amber-coloured liquid with a mixture of suspicion and distaste.

The bartender’s next question was nearly forgotten as the Xirniumites attempted to decipher the strange, colourful ritual playing out noisily before them, seemingly involving the question of which Bruce would pay for whom.

‘We shall only room here several nights, I trust,’ Annegréthe decided, not taking her eyes of the tall, empty beer glasses.

"Uhuh." the barman spoke as he scribled a note down in a big bounded book

He started ferreting round patting pockets and generally looking around for some obviously mis-placed keys.

"ah, here we go." he said. "You've got room 7. Up the stairs and to the right. It's the door straight in front. Settle youselves in and you can have your beers when you come back down."

The placed the keys on the counter in front of them before turning to the Bruce who's turn to shout it was.

"8 bob..."

The Bruce rather ungracefully plonked some coins on the table...

"Now that, wasn't so hard now Bruce."

"Alright, Bruce, no point kicking a man after he's done his shout."

"Howls of derision, Bruce, Howls of Derision."

"Don't you laugh, Bruce, it's your turn next."

"Bugger!"