Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme
By Stephanie Park
Published by JMS Books LLC
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Copyright 2018 Stephanie Park
ISBN 9781634867696
Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
* * * *
To Brianna, the real Eternal Queen.
* * * *
Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme
By Stephanie Park
Fionn Grayson flew over the rolling green hills on broad, white-feathered wings. Unlike the land of his youth, this countryside was lush and long cultivated. The hills below were a patchwork of different shades of green, divided by piled stone walls and worn wooden fences. Sheep or cattle grazed contentedly in some, while neat rows of crops grew in others. Here and there a modest farmhouse stood, while narrow, winding dirt roads led between them.
It was a quiet land, and just then it looked like something near to heaven to him. He was on his way home from the southern desert, where he and his fellow adventurers had been tracking a murderous mage. He had seen his fill of bleak, barren land, and he’d had more than enough of darkness, despair, and violence. Of course he would return when he was next called upon to right some wrong, he knew that, but for the moment he was very glad that the whole affair was over and done with and he had a little time to himself.
He was still passing over farmland when the sun dipped down near the horizon. Best start looking for somewhere to spend the night, he thought to himself. He selected a farmhouse below at random and dropped down out of the sky. He landed in the road in front of the neatly kept yard and entered through the gate, not wanting to startle anyone inside by landing on their very doorstep. He made his way up a paved walk to the door and knocked. When no one answered he waited a few minutes and knocked again, but there was still no response. He shrugged and turned to go when a voice said, “Oh! Hello! Sorry, I didn’t hear you knock.”
He turned to see a sandy-haired man with cheerful blue eyes standing by the corner of the house. “How can I help you?” Fionn noticed the man sizing him up. He knew he presented a somewhat unconventional view. The avian folk were all small, so though he was actually on the tall side for one of his race, he was half a head shorter than the rather average human facing him. He was lean and wiry, but he had muscle enough to easily wield the saber at his belt. The light coat of mail, worn over its padded gambeson, added to his martial appearance. His eyes were a vivid leaf green, and his hair was an equally vivid red-orange, long enough to reach almost to his belt and held back in a practical tail.
I’m looking for somewhere to stay the night. I haven’t seen any inns, and it’s getting dark, so I was hoping someone around here might put me up.”
“You’re welcome to stay here,” the man said. “We’ve several spare rooms since my brothers moved out.”
“Thank you very much. I’m Fionn, by the way.”
“Jonathan,” he replied. “Pleased to meet you.” He stepped forward, holding out a big, calloused hand. Fionn took it, his own grip firm and his hands just as rough as the human’s, though his calluses came from sword work rather than farm work. “My mother’s nearly done cooking dinner, and if you don’t mind plain country fare I’m sure there’s room for one more.” He winked cheerfully as he ushered Fionn inside. “Mother still often forgets she doesn’t have all my hungry brothers here to feed these days.”
“Thank you again,” said Fionn. “I have to admit a real meal would be quite welcome. I haven’t had a hot dinner in some time.” He smiled and added, “And last time I did it was my own cooking, which isn’t very good.”
He followed Jonathan inside the house. It was all bright and cheery, with whitewashed walls decorated with colorful stenciled borders of plants, flowers, fruit, and animals. The scent of cooking wafted through the house, and Fionn inhaled appreciatively. “Whatever that is, it smells marvelous,” he said, “and I’m hungry enough to eat a horse.” The kitchen was at the very back, with an open door letting out on a neatly ordered garden of herbs and vegetables.
A plump little woman was puttering around the kitchen, whistling cheerfully. She looked up as they came in and said, “Hello Johnny. I thought I heard someone at the door. Do we have a guest for dinner then?”
“Yes mom,” he said. “This is Fionn. I’ve invited him to stay the night”
“Of course, we’ve more than enough room these days. It looks like dinner’s ready, so seat yourselves.”
Fionn took off his sword and propped it against one wall, belt and all, before sitting down at the table. Jonathan gave the sword a curious look, but made no comment on it.
Dinner tasted as wonderful as it smelled, and Fionn dug in with a hearty appetite. Jonathan almost didn’t remember to start in on his own food, he was so busy staring at the winged man. He’d never seen anyone like him. His face was fine-boned, almost androgynous, and his slender build boyish, yet he was obviously strong and capable. His clear green eyes seemed to send a shock through Johnathan every time he met Fionn’s gaze. Fionn gave him a little smile, and he realized he’d been staring at his guest with his fork half lifted for nearly a minute. Jonathan blushed and looked down at his plate. He should keep his eyes to himself. Even if this stranger hadn’t been just passing through, most men were not inclined towards other men, so any advances he might make would probably be unwelcome. And besides, what interest would somebody who was obviously a warrior and adventurer have in a farm lout like him?
Fionn noticed the young man’s glances. He was not entirely unused to such looks; he’d gotten enough of them over the years. His fellow adventurers teased him about being a “pretty boy” for choosing to wear his hair long and insisting on being shaved and groomed even out in the howling wilderness. He easily laughed off their teasing, for he took pride in his appearance, and was more than willing to be admired.
The young farmer wasn’t bad to look at either. His sandy hair was probably due for a cut, yet the way it fell untidily about his face was rather charming, and the little bit of absent-minded scruff on his square chin—a few shades darker than the hair of his head—was pleasantly masculine. His broad shoulders and muscled, hard worked body were certainly easy to look at. He seemed to be carrying just a bit of fat—and given how good the meal was, it was no wonder—but that still was very much to Fionn’s tastes.
I rather hope his stares are because he likes how I look, and not just because he doesn’t often see anyone in mail around these parts, he thought.
“So where are you bound?” Jonathan’s mother asked.
“From where?” asked Jonathan, curiously.
“From the badlands,” he said, with a vague gesture to the south.
“My, that’s quite a trip!” said Jonathan’s mother.
Fionn nodded. “And I’ve much further left to go. ‘Home’ is on the northern coast. But I’m in no hurry. I’ve been taking my time and enjoying the journey. The countryside around here is very beautiful.”
“You’ve probably seen much more interesting places than this, though,” said Jonathan.
Fionn shrugged. “I suppose I might have seen places more exciting, and I do have to admit that the badlands are beautiful in their own bleak sort of way, but the countryside here seems so peaceful…” he trailed off, with a sort of sigh. He could almost picture himself with a little farm somewhere. The idea was tempting. But he didn’t know that much about farming, really. With a mental shrug he returned to his dinner, polishing the plate clean.
He slept that night in a comfortable bed in an attic room, deeply and without dreams. When he rose in the morning, he had a sudden impulse, and seeing no reason not to give in to it, he dressed himself and performed his usual morning grooming, but left the mail and the sword in the attic when he came down stairs.
“Good morning.” Jonathan greeted him with a smile that lingered just a little bit.
He smiled back. So, not just because of the mail coat. It might still just be because I’m an avian, but…I don’t think it is. “Morning. Is there breakfast?”
“Yep. Almost done. Just porridge though, I hope that’s all right,” Johnathan sounded very apologetic.
“Porridge is fine. Perverse as it may sound, I actually like the stuff,” Fionn said with a grin. “At least provided you have honey or sugar for it.”
“Your choice of both, actually. And molasses too.”
“Wonderful!”
After he had cleaned his bowl, Jonathan said, sounding a little regretful, “I suppose you’ll be moving on now.”
“Oh, eventually,” Fionn replied, “But I thought I should repay you for your hospitality. Is there anything I can do to help out? I don’t know a lot about farm work, but I can lift and carry things. I’m sure there’s some way I could help out.”
Johnathan looked a little surprised. “Well…It’s the tag end of planting now, and I was going to spend the day out putting in some late vegetables and herbs in the kitchen garden. You could help with that, I suppose.”
“That sounds great. You’ll have to show me what to do, but I’d be happy to help.”
Fionn spent the morning with Jonathan, making mounds for the seeds, or holes, or putting little rooted baby plants into the soil, depending on the plant. Johnathan showed him what to do for each row, and he was able to continue without needing too much babysitting. His back was soon sore from all the bending over, but he had to admit it was rather satisfying to plant things.
He paused, having planted what he’d been told was basil seed next to a patch of already well-established plants. Apparently one could plant some basil later to have tender leaves still, once the first planting had gone to seed. He pinched a tiny leaf off of one of the mature stems and crushed it between his fingers, inhaling the rich scent of the herb. He’d eaten basil often. He’d never grown his own. There was something rewarding about knowing that the seeds he’d just sown would become plants like this, and would then be eaten. Defeating the dark mage had been rewarding too, but this…It was much more profound. And much less dangerous too, he thought with a smile, then bent back to his work.
With both of them working they got the entire garden done just before noon.
Fionn stood and stretched after he reached the end of his last row. “I’m going to be stiff in the morning,” he said. “And I’m starving again. Is there lunch?”
Jonathan laughed. “You sound like my brothers. Yes, there should be lunch, Mom would have made us something by now.”
They ate a modest lunch of bread and cheese, and when it was done, Fionn said, somewhat thoughtfully, “There’s really no point in my flying further on today, it’s too late for me to get far. Would it be all right if I stayed here another day? I can lend a hand again this afternoon, if you like.”
Jonathan hesitated, then shrugged. He had enjoyed the somewhat odd avian’s company this morning. He was a cheerful conversationalist, and was certainly easy on the eyes. He’d worked hard too, every bit as hard as Johnathan had. “Sure. Since the garden got done in half the time I’d planned, I was thinking of mending some things in the stable, I’ve been putting that off for too long. I don’t know if you know leatherwork…”
Fionn smiled. “Oh yes. I learned how to keep my own gear in shape when I was in training, and that included fixing leather if it got worn or broken. I’ve got a whole random assortment of mending skills. I can even do a little basic blacksmithing.”
Johnathan gave him a sudden interested look. “Do you know how to shoe a horse?”
“I do, yes. I have terrible luck with it, as I’ve managed to get kicked by pretty much every horse I’ve ever tried to shoe,” he said with a grin. “But yes.”
“Well, ours is a somewhat elderly and very placid fellow, so you might avoid it this time. Could you? I was going to take him down to be shod again next week, but if you could do it here…We have a few tools, my uncle used to do a little smithing, but I don’t know how to use them.”
“Let me have a look at what you have.”
The setup was indeed basic. The anvil had seen better days, and the forge was tiny. You couldn’t forge a sword here, or a plowshare, but it would be possible to shoe a horse. “Yeah, I think I can work with this.”
Fionn knew a good farrier could have had it done in an hour’s time. It took him most of the afternoon. But he got it done properly, and didn’t even manage to get kicked once. The big brown draft horse was indeed a very placid and patient animal.
“Whew,” he said, stepping into the house. “Can I get a bath, or something? That was quite a workout.” He was soaked in sweat and felt like he’d managed to somehow get dust, straw, and soot in every crevice of his body.
“We don’t have a proper bath house here,” said Jonathan’s mother, “but there’s a big basin. I’ll curtain it off so you can have privacy. And I’ve got soft soap, not lye.”
“Oh good.” Fionn wrinkled his nose. “I hate lye soap.” There was some work to be done before bathing, of course. Fionn had to haul a lot of water from the well near the kitchen garden, and some of it had to be boiled so the tub wouldn’t be freezing cold. Eventually, though, that was done, the curtain was strung across a corner of the kitchen, and Johnathan’s mother left as Fionn started to strip. The basin wasn’t large enough to lie in, but it was big enough that he could sit. He’d just climbed in but hadn’t sat down in the pleasantly steaming water, when Johnathan came in with the soap, apparently sent by his mother to preserve propriety.
Johnathan couldn’t help but look up and down along Fionn’s leanly-muscled, nude form. Fionn had his back turned at first, so mostly what Johnathan saw were the massive white wings there. They fell from his shoulders almost to his knees, strange and exotic, and yet somehow beautiful. Then he turned and the view he presented made the young farmer blush furiously.
“Thank you,” said Fionn, taking the soap from his hand. The brief contact seemed almost to burn. “If you want to have a bath after I’m done, I’d be happy to help haul more water.”
Realizing he was still staring, Johnathan stammered, “Ah, that’s fine, I bathe on holy day. Uhm. I’ll be out there if you need anything,” and retreated back to the other side of the curtain.
Looking after him, Fionn grinned. Perhaps he would stay a few days longer and see what came of the handsome young farmer’s looks and blushes.
* * * *
The next day he helped weed out the garden, insisting that he still owed them for all the meals and for two night’s sleep now. The pair talked some w
hile they worked, and Fionn asked endless questions about farming. When he asked what the farm produced, Johnathan answered, “A bit of this and a bit of that. We grow for our own use as much as for selling, so there’s a patchwork of different things. Some wheat, some potatoes. Some hay, of course; I’ll do three harvests of hay this year, we had an early spring. That’s mostly for sale, though we do keep some for the horse. Our biggest crop is pumpkins. That’s what you’re looking at in the nearest field. They sell well, and keep well too, we’ll eat them half the winter. We also have a little orchard. Mostly apples. In good years we do cider.”
“I’m fond of a good cider. Maybe I’ll have to stick around until fall and learn how it’s made!” he said.
Johnathan gave him a long look at that, but only went back to his weeding, and they worked for a while in silence before Fionn found another topic for them to discuss.
When the garden was done Fionn had another hearty dinner, and once more retired to the attic room. This time, just as he’d shed his shirt in preparation for bed, Johnathan ascended the narrow stairs and peered in hesitantly.
“Sorry if I’m disturbing you.”
“No, you’re fine,” said Fionn with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Can I do something for you?”
“Not really. Just…Why are you still here? Why are you talking about staying all summer? I’m sorry if I’m intruding, or prying, or whatever, but I don’t understand it.”
“What is there to understand? I’ve said I’ve nowhere to be, and I find I kind of like the work. It’s satisfying.”
Johnathan came fully into the low room, shaking his head as he did. “I won’t deny that, I guess, but I still just don’t quite understand why a soldier, and one who can fly off to any part of the world he likes, would want to be a farmhand.”
Fionn chuckled. “Isn’t it traditional for soldiers to retire to farms?”
Johnathan let out a little snort of laughter at that. “You’re awfully young for retirement.”
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