![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
"At the bottom of the garden"
Carmen is staying home ill, and I said I would write her into a short story for her to read to cheer her up. This all happens many years after the events in "Not Ordinarily Borrowable".
Jennifer opened the oven to check on the bread, nodded, and closed the door. She looked up at her neighbour, stood up again, and smiled, wiping her hands on her apron as she continued talking. "But we rescued the dragon after all. And then there was the time I was trapped in the library tower. All those recipe books and nothing to eat!"
"You seem to have a taste for adventures," said Carmen. "It's good that you're with Maria, really. You're both the adventurous type."
"Everyone seems to think that," said Jennifer, "but when you get to know her, Maria's just as happy sitting alone with her books as she'd be on some quest or other. Not like me. I'd go crazy living a settled life."
Carmen had first met Jennifer and Maria when they had moved in to their new house, only the week before, but what she knew of them did not seem to match with Jennifer's words. "How are you finding life with Simon, then?"
Jennifer laughed. "Well, motherhood is an adventure all of its own. I really did think I would go mad for the first few months after he was born, with Maria finishing her thesis and me stuck at home all day. But you know, he learned to smile, and he learned to talk, and he's never really stopped. And..." she stopped to think, and continued. "I suppose for someone like Simon, there's an adventure every day. I think he gets that from me. And even if I'm at home looking after him, I live the adventures through him."
"Do you think you might take him along on some quests when he's a bit older?" asked Carmen, but before Jennifer could reply, the door flew open and a pudgy dark-haired child of perhaps three burst into the kitchen. His hair was full of grass, his clothes were spotted with mud, and his smile extended well beyond the end of his face. In one hand he clutched a cardboard shield with an indeterminate animal drawn on it in blue crayon.
"Mummy Jenfer, I met a strange man in the field," he said breathlessly. "He wants to get some babies, and a pony."
Jennifer's sunshiny expression was replaced by clouds of concern. "What have I told you about talking to strangers?"
The child's face fell. "I sorry," he said.
"Show me where you met him," said Jennifer sternly, and excusing herself to Carmen she left with Simon for the field which ran along the bottom of the garden of both houses. She was back within five minutes. "There's nobody there," she said to Carmen, and to Simon she said, "You must play in the house now."
"I'm a knight," said Simon proudly, and at the top of his lungs he added, "With a sword!"
"Oh dear," said Jennifer, and ran her hand through her hair. "You mustn't disturb Mama Maria. She's got to finish this paper."
"I could look after him?" offered Carmen. "If that would be OK?"
Jennifer smiled again. "Oh, would you? I don't mind him playing out in the field, but I'd rather someone was looking after him if there was anyone nasty about. Simon, Carmen is here, she's going to look after you."
"Hello, Carmen," said Simon, giving her another of his room-filling smiles. "I like horsies."
Carmen looked puzzled and then remembered the green and white abstract pony design on her shirt. "I like horses too, Simon. Knights used to ride them."
"Yes. I'm a knight," repeated Simon. "Come and see."
Out in the field and the sunshine again, Simon gave Carmen a long lecture on the rules of knighthood as only a three-year-old can understand them. Carmen nodded patiently and walked along beside him for a few minutes, until Simon stopped prattling, dived down into the grass, and seized something lying there.
"My sword!"
"Good grief," said Carmen. Simon was dragging a fairly solid-looking sword covered in runes after him. "Where did that come from?"
"I found it in Mama Maria's room," said Simon proudly, "but I losted it. It's my sword. I'm a knight."
"May I have a look?" asked Carmen, and when Simon assented, she picked it up and began examining the lettering which covered it. The sword was damp from the rain and the blade was dull, which was to be expected, but more oddly it seemed to be humming.
Carmen looked up. A man stood before them, with a long face, a white robe, and a golden necklace. He began to intone a phrase, over and over, staring beyond them into the middle distance.
"I seek the good corn, and many babies," he chanted. "I seek Epona."
"This man wants a pony," said Simon helpfully. "And babies."
Carmen coughed to attract the man's attention. He ceased his chanting. "Excuse me," she said. "Who are you?"
The man's eyes focused on Simon, and then on Carmen, and then on the sword. He fell to his knees. "Is that iron? My god, take it away from me!"
Carmen did not loosen her grip on the hilt. "Who are you and what do you want?"
"I am the sacrifice. I died that we might have the good corn, and many babies."
"You... died?"
"My god," began the man, and with some shock she realised that he was addressing her. "I died for the good corn, and many babies. I died so that Epona might bring us fortune. I greet you, Epona."
Carmen was a great reader, but none of her books had prepared her for what to do if mistaken for a fertility goddess. Either this man was insane and possibly dangerous, in which case she should humour him until some kind of backup arrived, or he really was the ghost of a Bronze Age sacrifice. Either way...
She stretched out her hand. "Good corn there will be. There will be many babies. Be at peace."
The man fell forward on his face and was gone.
"Can we play knights now?" asked Simon. He picked a buttercup and made a theatrical display of smelling its scent.
"Let me give this sword back to your Mama, and then of course we can."
Simon sneezed explosively.
"Bless you," said Carmen, and caught her breath.
Jennifer opened the oven to check on the bread, nodded, and closed the door. She looked up at her neighbour, stood up again, and smiled, wiping her hands on her apron as she continued talking. "But we rescued the dragon after all. And then there was the time I was trapped in the library tower. All those recipe books and nothing to eat!"
"You seem to have a taste for adventures," said Carmen. "It's good that you're with Maria, really. You're both the adventurous type."
"Everyone seems to think that," said Jennifer, "but when you get to know her, Maria's just as happy sitting alone with her books as she'd be on some quest or other. Not like me. I'd go crazy living a settled life."
Carmen had first met Jennifer and Maria when they had moved in to their new house, only the week before, but what she knew of them did not seem to match with Jennifer's words. "How are you finding life with Simon, then?"
Jennifer laughed. "Well, motherhood is an adventure all of its own. I really did think I would go mad for the first few months after he was born, with Maria finishing her thesis and me stuck at home all day. But you know, he learned to smile, and he learned to talk, and he's never really stopped. And..." she stopped to think, and continued. "I suppose for someone like Simon, there's an adventure every day. I think he gets that from me. And even if I'm at home looking after him, I live the adventures through him."
"Do you think you might take him along on some quests when he's a bit older?" asked Carmen, but before Jennifer could reply, the door flew open and a pudgy dark-haired child of perhaps three burst into the kitchen. His hair was full of grass, his clothes were spotted with mud, and his smile extended well beyond the end of his face. In one hand he clutched a cardboard shield with an indeterminate animal drawn on it in blue crayon.
"Mummy Jenfer, I met a strange man in the field," he said breathlessly. "He wants to get some babies, and a pony."
Jennifer's sunshiny expression was replaced by clouds of concern. "What have I told you about talking to strangers?"
The child's face fell. "I sorry," he said.
"Show me where you met him," said Jennifer sternly, and excusing herself to Carmen she left with Simon for the field which ran along the bottom of the garden of both houses. She was back within five minutes. "There's nobody there," she said to Carmen, and to Simon she said, "You must play in the house now."
"I'm a knight," said Simon proudly, and at the top of his lungs he added, "With a sword!"
"Oh dear," said Jennifer, and ran her hand through her hair. "You mustn't disturb Mama Maria. She's got to finish this paper."
"I could look after him?" offered Carmen. "If that would be OK?"
Jennifer smiled again. "Oh, would you? I don't mind him playing out in the field, but I'd rather someone was looking after him if there was anyone nasty about. Simon, Carmen is here, she's going to look after you."
"Hello, Carmen," said Simon, giving her another of his room-filling smiles. "I like horsies."
Carmen looked puzzled and then remembered the green and white abstract pony design on her shirt. "I like horses too, Simon. Knights used to ride them."
"Yes. I'm a knight," repeated Simon. "Come and see."
Out in the field and the sunshine again, Simon gave Carmen a long lecture on the rules of knighthood as only a three-year-old can understand them. Carmen nodded patiently and walked along beside him for a few minutes, until Simon stopped prattling, dived down into the grass, and seized something lying there.
"My sword!"
"Good grief," said Carmen. Simon was dragging a fairly solid-looking sword covered in runes after him. "Where did that come from?"
"I found it in Mama Maria's room," said Simon proudly, "but I losted it. It's my sword. I'm a knight."
"May I have a look?" asked Carmen, and when Simon assented, she picked it up and began examining the lettering which covered it. The sword was damp from the rain and the blade was dull, which was to be expected, but more oddly it seemed to be humming.
Carmen looked up. A man stood before them, with a long face, a white robe, and a golden necklace. He began to intone a phrase, over and over, staring beyond them into the middle distance.
"I seek the good corn, and many babies," he chanted. "I seek Epona."
"This man wants a pony," said Simon helpfully. "And babies."
Carmen coughed to attract the man's attention. He ceased his chanting. "Excuse me," she said. "Who are you?"
The man's eyes focused on Simon, and then on Carmen, and then on the sword. He fell to his knees. "Is that iron? My god, take it away from me!"
Carmen did not loosen her grip on the hilt. "Who are you and what do you want?"
"I am the sacrifice. I died that we might have the good corn, and many babies."
"You... died?"
"My god," began the man, and with some shock she realised that he was addressing her. "I died for the good corn, and many babies. I died so that Epona might bring us fortune. I greet you, Epona."
Carmen was a great reader, but none of her books had prepared her for what to do if mistaken for a fertility goddess. Either this man was insane and possibly dangerous, in which case she should humour him until some kind of backup arrived, or he really was the ghost of a Bronze Age sacrifice. Either way...
She stretched out her hand. "Good corn there will be. There will be many babies. Be at peace."
The man fell forward on his face and was gone.
"Can we play knights now?" asked Simon. He picked a buttercup and made a theatrical display of smelling its scent.
"Let me give this sword back to your Mama, and then of course we can."
Simon sneezed explosively.
"Bless you," said Carmen, and caught her breath.