Day 5 - Scene 14

Amanda lifted down the lantern from the hook, stood still for a moment and then hung it up again.

“Enar, would you mind taking down the clothesline, it's warmer inside. I'll just put the blanket over Sofie.”

“Sure thing.” Enar shuffled around on the chest until he could hop down on the ground. “Sure thing.”

His brain wobbled a little as he stood up and he reached out a hand to steady himself on the chest. So, that cider was pretty strong after all. He smiled to himself. Good thing he hadn't had that much. A light buzz would be fine. He could handle that. A cup of hot mulled cider would do him a world of good.

Enar pulled the blanket closer around himself and waddled over to the clothesline. Amanda had disappeared into the stables, fussing over her horse.

He took down the clothes first, hung them over his shoulder and then fiddled with the knots that held up the rope. Once done, he bundled it all up in his arms, the clothes wet agains his chest and went to stand by the door of the barn – next to the cart.

Outside, in the darkness, the rain kept falling. It would never stop – at least not until morning.

Shivering, and not just from the cold clothes he carried, he closed his eyes. Soon, he'd cross the little open space and enter the cider-house. This could be the worst mistake he'd ever made, or his best.

Yes, he'd heard the stories. No, he didn't believe them, not really. But, still, you know...

Well, he couldn't back out now. He'd do it. He had to. This was what they'd all told him – what he'd told himself even. He needed to loosen up.

If defying old superstitions and going into a cider-house with a pretty girl wasn't loosening up, then he didn't know what was. He couldn't tell anyone, of course, but if they knew, they wouldn't think him uptight and boring anymore. Oh, if they only knew.

He smiled to himself, but deep in his belly, a little ball of worry kept churning.

“Are we ready?” Amanda appeared beside him, holding the lantern in one arm, and a blanket in the other.

“Yes.” He nodded, clenched his teeth and tried to smile. “I think we are.” No turning back now.

“Could you hold this for a moment?” Amanda held out the lantern for him to take.

“Sure?” He readjusted his grip on the wet clothes and his towel and reached out his free hand to take the lantern.

Amanda shook out the blanket and draped it over both of them, just like Enar had held the tarp while on the cart earlier.

She grinned at him, the flame of the lantern reflected in her eyes. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Enar looked at Amanda. Amanda looked at Enar. Enar nodded. Amanda nodded. Together, they stepped out of the barn.

They hurried through the rain, towards the cider-house; a dark, grey, colossus in the darkness just beyond the circle of light. Splashing through mud and puddles they reached the loading bay and a short flight of stairs leading up to it.

Amanda cracked open a small door in the wall and peered in. “Come. Here.” She opened the door wide, shrugged out from under the blanket and disappeared into the house.

Almost naked, wrapped in blankets, and cradling a bundle of wet clothes in one arm and holding up the lantern in the other, Enar stood by himself on the loading bay. He lifted up the blanket a little higher and had a look around.

Wet and mud and rain all around. No way he'd walk anywhere in this. Then again, even Rolf had told him to stay away from the cider-house. He could just grab his jeans and shirt and run for it. Then again, again, he could get warm and dry and have hot mulled cider with Amanda. Hot cider or cold rain?

“Hey, slowpoke, are you coming?” Amanda yelled from beyond the doorway. “I can't see a thing in here.”

Enar sighed and shook his head, smiling at himself. “I'm coming, I'm just... I'm just...” Being an idiot. “I'm coming.”

He cast one last glance over at the barn, barely visible through the rain, and entered the cider-house.

His heart beating a little too fast, he stepped into a big storage room, two floors high. Crates and barrels lined the walls, and a big iron hook in a block and tackle hung from a rail that crossed the ceiling from one end of the room to the other. Over by the far wall a stair led up to a walkway that run all the way around the room.

“Still unsure?” Amanda stood by the side of the door, looking for him as he stepped through the door.

He swallowed. “Yes.” No point denying it. But he'd stepped in, hadn't he.

Amanda started to say something, but stopped herself. Instead she smiled and pulled the extra blanket off his shoulders – the one they'd covered under when running through the rain. She shook it out and hung it on a peg on the wall. “We don't need that anymore.”

“Okay.” Enar nodded. It was all wet anyway.

“Here, give me.” She took the lantern out of his outstretched hand and began walking towards the stairs. “This way.”

Enar adjusted the grip on his blanket and his bundle of wet clothes and followed.

In silence they crossed the wooden floor of the storage room; wide planks, dry, and smooth with age.

Dry. He walked on a dry, friendly, surface. No stones or pebbles. No mud or dirt. No cold. He looked down at his feet and smiled. Not that he could see much of them, what with Amanda walking ahead of him, holding the lantern in front of her.

He did see her feet though, and her legs. The light of the lantern caught in the fur on her calves, outlining them like fire; a thin, golden, glow in the dark where she walked.

Enar's breath caught and his heart raced. He tore his eyes away, focusing his gaze on the stair ahead. It had just been an optical illusion – caused by the darkness and the flame in the lantern. Her legs were not on fire. The cider-house was not playing tricks on him. It was not luring him into temptation.

Still, he'd love to touch that fur; feel it under his hands, run his fingers through it. It must be so soft.

He jammed his eyes shut and shook his head to try and clear his thoughts. Think of something else.

They reached the stair and started to climb it; Amanda first and Enar after. He stared up at her neck. Her calves were right in front of his eyes, almost.

It still rained outside. Very wet. Cold. Muddy. They'd splashed through puddles out there. She must have mud well over her ankles. Perhaps they had a brush somewhere. Maybe he could help her out; untangling the mess.

Pain shot up through his leg as he kicked his toe into the next step of the stair. “Ouch!” He froze mid-step with his foot dangling in the air, not wanting to set it down.

“You okay?” Amanda turned around to check on him.

“Yeah. I'm fine. Just hit my toe.” Standing on one leg, he grumbled and looked out over the storage room.

With her turning around and holding the lantern between them, he'd seen exactly, in detail, how much mud and dirt had splashed up her legs. He swallowed. His face burned and his tongue dried out and his throat itched. Must not stare.

“Are you sure? I can take those clothes if you want?” She held out her free hand.

“No. No, it's fine. I'm good.” Enar shook his head. And clutched the wet bundle a little tighter, still not looking at her.

A moment later she turned around and continued the last few steps up the stairs. He'd not seen it, but she'd probably frowned at him, thought him silly or weird. Well, so what? Maybe he was, but at least he didn't stare at her legs.

They reached the top of the stairs and continued on the walkway along the walls of the room. In the far corner, by a small, unmarked, door Amanda stopped.

“I think this is it,” she said.

“Oh?” Butterflies fluttered in his stomach.

She opened the door and peeked in. “Yes. This is it, the tasting room.”

“Tasting room?”

“Come on in.” Amanda disappeared through the door, taking the lantern and the light with her, leaving Enar alone in the darkness. “It's just a break room. Come, close the door.”

Enar leaned forward and peered in through the door. Amanda had set the lantern down on a little coffee-table in front of a big old couch. She herself knelt by a little cast-iron potbelly stove in the corner, tossing in firewood through the hatch.

In the other corner stood a cupboard, and along the wall by it ran a counter, above which rows of cups hung on little hooks. Next to the couch stood a low, wide, bookshelf, filled with books and with a group of candleholders clustered on top of it.

He stepped in and pushed the door shut, revealing a window set low in the wall. He bent down and looked out, but saw nothing but darkness, and the light of the lamp reflected in the water running down the glass. It still rained – a lot.

“See if you can hang up the clothesline somehow. If not, just use the pegs by the door.” Amanda didn't look up. “I'll get a fire going.”

Enar went over to the counter, nearly tripping over a group of little stools he hadn't noticed earlier. He put down the bundle of wet clothes, hesitated for a moment and then tossed his blanket on the couch; it'd just get in the way. He was in the cider-house already. If someone found him he'd be in for it no matter what he was wearing – or not wearing.

He grabbed the rope, tied it to one of the pegs on the wall by the door and went to check for somewhere to affix the other end to. Maybe one of the hooks the cups hung on would do?

“Stop!” Cried Amanda. “Don't touch those.”

Enar froze, his hand hovering just above one of the cups. He'd just meant to check if the hook would hold the weight of the clothes and the rope.

“Why,” he asked and pulled his hand back. “What's wrong.”

“They're named. You can't touch them. It's bad luck.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Really?” She must be kidding.

“Yes, really.” She nodded, with not the hint of a smile on her face. “Each woman of age has her own cup, and no one else can touch it.”

“Really? I didn't know.” He peered at the cups. They all had names scribbled on them, each in a different hand. “What happens if you do?”

“I don't know, but... please, just don't. Okay?”

“Okay, okay. I won't.” He stepped away from the bench, well out of reach of the cups. “I thought you said everything was fine and nothing would happen?”

“It is,” she grumbled. “Just don't touch other people's things.”

He frowned at her, but she'd already turned back to the stove and didn't notice. Perhaps just as well. This was not the place to get into an argument.

With a shrug he surveyed the rest of the room to see if there was anything else to tie the rope to. No decorations hung on the walls, and the only real options were the group of pegs by the door and the hooks for the mugs. For a moment he considered trying to fit the rope around the door to the cupboard, but it didn't seem practical. In the end he just hung the clothes up on the pegs by the door. Might as well have left them in the barn.

Done with the clothes he picked up the blanket again. He draped it over his shoulders and tugged the sides around himself. “How's it going?”

“Bad. I'm not finding anything to light the damn thing.” She grumbled something under her breath and sighed. “I'm going to have to do this the hard way. Would you mind coming over here?”

“Sure. What's up?”

“I'll have to make a weaving and I need you to be ready to catch me if I fall over.”

Enar's jaw fell. “Really, you can do that?” He stared at her.

“Yeah.” Amanda sighed. “I'm not very good at it. If I do anything more than light a candle I tend to lose my balance when I release the weave.” She patted the side of the stove. “If this thing gets hot I don't want to fall into it.”

“No, I mean...” He fidgeted. “You can do a weaving? On your own? I had no idea. That... that's awesome.”

Amanda's cheeks turned red and she busied herself putting another stick of firewood into the stove. “Yes, well... It's no big deal.” She grabbed another stick of firewood and busied herself putting into the the stove. “I've got no flow and no control, so I can't really do anything but small flames and lights.”

“Yes, but still. It's really rare isn't.” As a kid he'd always dreamed of wielding magic, and doing it all on your own was totally the coolest. “Most people can't even do that.”

“Mmm...” Amanda sighed. “Will you help or not?”

“Yes. Yes of course.” Enar gathered up the blanket and hurried over to where she sat beside the stove, almost falling over the little coffee-table. “How do we do this? How long does it take? Do I put a hand on your shoulder or something.” He hunched down to sit right beside her. “Can I watch?”

Amanda glared at him. “It's really no big deal. Just keep an eye on me and if I start falling over you catch me, okay?”

“Okay, okay. Sure.” Enar frowned and shuffled away a little to the side. “I'm sorry. It's just... I've never seen anyone do magic on their own before – for real I mean.”

“No, it's okay, I'm sorry.” Her shoulders slumped and she stared down at the floor in front of her. “I'm just a bit nervous. It's difficult.”

Enar nodded, but didn't say anything.

Amanda shrugged and rubbed her hands together. “Ready?”

“Wait!” His hand shot up to stop her. “I just thought of something.”

“Yes?” She turned and looked at him, her lips tight. “What?”

Enar squirmed. “I saw some stools over there. Maybe you'd be safer if you have one to sit on?”

The tension left her eyes, and her face melted into a smile. “Yes, please. Thanks.” She even blushed – a little. “That would be good.”

“I'll get it.” Enar bounced to his feet. “Just a moment.” He hurried over to the other end of the room, grabbed two stools and brought them back – without dropping his blanket. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Amanda adjusted the stool until it stood right in front of the hatch of the stove and sat down. She turned to Enar and winked. “Anything else, or are we good to go.”

Enar blushed, adjust his stool so that he could sit facing Amanda, but still with a good view of the hatch – so he could see when she made the fire. “No, nothing else. All good to go.”

She nodded, once, and turned towards the stove. Breathing in deep she closed her eyes and sat completely still. Enar barely dared to breathe.

Amanda opened her eyes, rolled up the sleeves of her sweater and leaned forwards. She grabbed the lower edge of the hatch with her left hand and rested her right hand on top of it as she pushed her arm through the hole.

Enar craned his neck to try and see better. His gaze flicked back and forth between Amanda's face and her hand inside the stove. He didn't want to miss the magic, but he also didn't want to lean close enough to be a bother – and, of course, he couldn't let her fall. His heart beat like a drum.

Nothing happened.

The old house creaked, battered by the wind and rain outside, but in the tasting room nothing moved and not a sound was made.

Enar held his breath.

The lantern on the table cast a steady light across the walls. On the hooks above the counter, named cups waited for a day their owners would need them, and over by the door, wet clothes had stopped dripping, but were still far from dry.

In the corner, inside the iron stove, in the open palm of the woman with the red hair, magic happened.

A faint light flickered and faded, flared up, and faded again. Enar gasped. His eyes flicked to Amanda to see if he'd disturbed her, but she made no move to show she'd noticed. The light inside the oven steadied and grew brighter. A point of brightest white appeared in the air above her palm, no larger than a speck of dust, but as bright as any flame. The light grew in size, took on the shape of a pearl, and turned pink. It wobbled, steadied, and shifted from pink to red to yellow.

Enar tore his eyes away to check on Amanda. He couldn't let himself forget about her. Beads of sweat ran down the side of her face, and her lips moved, forming words he couldn't hear. She still sat upright; chanting under her breath, steady and unwavering – still strong.

The air inside the stove shimmered with heat, and small tongues of flame shot up from the pearl of light. Amanda's breathing became heavier and she wheezed through clenched teeth. Her arm twitched and she adjust her left hand to grip around her wrist instead of around the edge of the hatch, holding her arm still.

The pearlflame wobbled, turned pink and started to drip. Amanda hissed as a tiny drop of liquid fire hit her hand and went out, but she kept her arm steady and no more drops fell. The pearl regained it's shape and color and the flames around it grew.

Enar's heart pounded in his chest. His throat tight and his mouth dry, he reached out to pull Amanda away from the stove.

“No!”

He froze, and pulled his arms back. Her face glistened with sweat, and she stared wide eyed at the pearl of fire. With a grimace she adjusted the grip on her wrist and then tilted her palm down. The pearlflame began to move, slowly gliding down towards a stick of firewood inside the stove.

As soon as it connected, the wood around the pearl began to smoke and blacken. The pearl clung to the stick like honey, and its flames licked the wood. Amanda snatched her arm away, gasped and fell backwards.

Without thinking, Enar lunged forward, got his arms around her, struggled for balance and crashed into the floor with Amanda on top of him.

The fall knocked the breath out of him and his head cracked against the floorboards. Stars spun around each other up in the ceiling above.

The back of his head ached.

A great weight crushed down on him. His ribs ached.

He couldn't breath.

Amanda lay on top of him, crossways, with her back against his chest, and she, she could definitely breathe. Her chest rose and fell, right in front of his eyes, as she gasped for air.

“Enar,” she groaned and touched the back of her hand to her brow. “I thought I told you to catch me. Why am I on the floor? Can't you do anything right?”

Spikes of ice stabbed through his belly. His chest burned. So unfair. He gasped for air, trying to say something, anything, whatever – just, something. A dry rattling emerged from his throat, but no actual words.

“What?” Amanda turned her head to face him. She looked at him for a moment and then her eyes grew wide. “Oh, grace!”

Arms flailing and legs kicking against the floor she scrambled to get off of him. “Lady's grace Enar!” She twisted around and got up on her knees beside him. “I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry.

Enar breathed in. He filled his lungs with sweet, lovely, air, and he breathed freely.

Amanda grabbed his shoulders and leaned over him. “Are you okay? Enar, please, tell me you're okay!”

“Yes.” He nodded, and tried to calm his breathing. “I'm fine, just a little dented round the corners.”

With a smile, she reached over to where he'd sat and gathered up his blanket. He'd completely forgotten about that. It must have fallen to the side when he attempted his daring rescue earlier. Enar grinned at the thought. It hadn't exactly worked out as planned, but at least it was him hurting on the floor and not she.

“I'm really sorry. I didn't realize.” Amanda shook out the blanket and draped it over him, making sure to cover him from feet to shoulder. “There, just take it easy now and I'll get us something warm to drink.” She patted his chest, winked at him, and got to her feet.”

Enar lay still for a moment, the floor cold and hard against his back. Over in the other end of the room, Amanda opened the cupboard and rummaged through the shelves. She produced a pot and several little pouches that she placed on the counter.

He should help. He felt fine.

He needed to get off the floor anyway. He couldn't just lie there all night.

“Can I help you with anything?”

“No, I've got this.” She bent down and grabbed something from the bottom shelf of the cupboard. Groaning, she dragged it out on the floor. “You could light some candles if you want. Bring some light in here.”

Enar sat up. “Sure, I can do that.” He didn't have any magic to use, but he could probably light one on the flames in the stove and then the rest on that one. That'd do.

Throwing off the blanket he got to his feet. Standing around in his underwear didn't seem like such a big deal anymore, and the blanket got in the way when trying to move around. Once he sat down again he'd pull it on, it'd help keep him warm. He was still kind of cold.

He grabbed one of the candlesticks from atop the little bookshelf and turned to the stove. Flames licked the wooden sticks inside and a mild warmth radiated from the hatch when he held out his hand towards it.

It had worked then. Good. He'd forgotten to check; what with Amanda falling on top of him and everything. She probably wouldn't have been up for trying a second time. “How's your hand? It looked like it got pretty hot in the there.”

“Yes, no, it's okay. I'll take care of it in a moment. It's not that bad. There should be some salve for it here. I'm just gonna...” Amanda squatted by her burden, took a deep breath, and lifted. Groaning and straining, she hoisted up a wooden keg, of a size with the stools, on top of the counter. “There. Done. Now the fun begins.” She rapped her knuckles against the keg and grinned at him. “This is the good stuff.”

“Great.” He nodded. “You do your thing and I'll bring some light into the darkness.” Candle light. He'd make it nice and cozy and they could cuddle up on the couch and warm each other. It'd be great. It'd be perfect.

The candle started dripping as soon as he stuck it inside the stove. He probably should have thought about that. It should be fine though, he just needed to touch the wick to the flame and it'd light up. Moving the wick to where flames shot up from the wood it caught fire immediately and he pulled the candle of of the stove. It worked.

He spilled candle wax all over his hand and arm.

The candle bent a little, as if about to topple over, and he grabbed hold of the upper end to hold it straight.

“Ow.” He bit his teeth together. Warm wax ran over his fingers. It didn't hurt that bad, really. Not that bad. “Ow.”

“What did you do,” Amanda asked, without looking up. “Don't put your hand on the oven to check if it's hot.”

“Nothing, just... being a bit silly.” Keeping his arms as steady as he could, he straightened his knees and turned towards the bookshelf where the other candles stood.

Amanda laughed. “It's hot, right?”

Might as well go with that. It wasn't far wrong. “Yes. Indeed.” He touched the flame of his bent candle to the wick of another, and, for a moment, the two shared the flame. “Just had to make sure. For science, you know.”

“Nothing like empirical experiments, right?” She giggled, tinkering with something over by the counter.

Enar could hear her moving a bout, throwing this or that into the pot. He'd check it out in a moment. For now, he busied himself lighting all the candles. She'd probably want one over by the counter, so she could see to work. Not the bent one. He'd put that somewhere it wouldn't be noticed. It'd burn quickly. Like a master criminal, he'd destroy all evidence of silliness.

Behind him, liquid splashed, and as he turned, one candle in each hand, he saw Amanda scooping up cider from the keg with a ladle and pouring it into a pot.

She looked up at him and smiled. “This is going to be great.”

---

Continued in Day 5 - Scene 15.

Back to Enar's Vacation.