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meraki24601 · 1 year ago

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Hello, Meraki! I hope you are doing okay :)

In case you don’t mind writing something new… How about a traveller whumpee? Just a lonely traveller who wanders around the country, maybe even becoming famous among the local innkeepers, aka the one who never stays for more than one day and almost always leaves just before the dawn (or something like this).

Then, there’s another person, Traveller’s friend. This friend is more… prosaic than Traveller and kind of disapproves the latter’s lifestyle.

I actually had a dream once with these characters, where Traveller got sick and Friend had to take care of them. I clearly remember Friend saying: “You should stop letting wind travel through your lungs and head, one day this will kill you.” I know that it sounds old-fashioned, but… could you please consider putting it it the story🥺

Anyway, thank you for reading all of this) Also, you are more than welcome to refuse to write it if you don’t want to, I will understand:)

Hello, Friend! Thanks for the awesome prompt. I'm not sure if this is exactly what you were thinking, but I hope you enjoy!

The Traveler

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Traveler was the reason Innkeeper’s Inn and the ones in the larger surrounding towns began collecting payments as people arrived and before each additional night rather than a collective sum at the end of their stay. Of course, Traveler had never failed to pay Innkeeper what they owed, but it made Innkeeper nervous to hear they had left hours before sunrise while all but the drunkards were asleep.

They would arrive in the morning or early evening to trade in the market. Their wares were never of the highest quality, nor did they trade for anything of greater value. Instead, Traveler was known for bringing goods from far-off lands. Then, they were gone the next day, leaving only the money they owed behind.

The stranger wasn’t a merchant or trader. Their hair was uncut, their clothes too ragged to be a merchant, and they were too honest to be a trader. In the market, they only traded for things they were interested in and to gather enough money for food and a bed for the night. They never pushed to exchange any item they had brought if the townsfolk seemed uninterested. Tales of distant lands and people Innkeeper and the others in the village would never see spewed from their lips for anyone who wanted to listen. So, the people called them Traveler and flocked to the area anytime word spread that they had returned.

Innkeeper never bothered to follow the crowd. Theirs was the only Inn for several miles; Traveler would come when the day’s work was done, and with them would come the gossiping townsfolk, ready to drink and eat in celebration of the unknown. Like always, Innkeeper would watch from their place behind the bar, serving and taking in what information they found valuable. They rarely spoke to Traveler besides confirming the cost of a room and the call for another ale. They had no need for adventure or the danger that often came with it.

As Innkeeper knew it would, as Traveler's popularity grew, so did the threats that came with it.

One quiet, late evening, nearly three months after the previous visit, Traveler stumbled into the Inn. No enraptured shouts of excitement or herds of people followed after. Traveler was all alone.

“I am sorry, Innkeeper. I have no money to pay, but might I have some water and bread? Please forgive the rudeness of the question. Whatever your answer, I won’t take up much more of your time or the space at your bar.” Traveler’s voice was raw and barely loud enough to understand.

With a deep sigh, Innkeeper gestured for Traveler to seat themself at the bar and slipped into the kitchen. They recognized the bruise causing Traveler’s left eye to swell and the marks covering their arms where their jacket had been torn. Combined with the flatness of their usually bulging travel pack, Innkeeper had a relatively good idea of what the other had been through. Traveler had brought them enough business. That had more than paid for one of the untouched meals they had prepared and a safe place to sleep.

Innkeeper brought the steaming plate and a mug of ale back to the main hall to find Traveler sprawled in a chair, head down, at the bar. After confirming that the other was only sleeping, Innkeeper set the meal down and stepped outside to bring Traveler’s horse to the stable. Only the horse was nowhere to be seen. Of the two, Innkeeper had always preferred Traveler’s calm and cooperative horse over its master. It saddened them to see the beast missing.

Stepping softly back into the Inn, they found Traveler was awake and eating at a frightening pace. “My horse is dead. They killed him.” They called without looking up from the plate of food.

“The bandits at Hilford Cross?” Innkeeper asked, sighing at Traveler’s reserved nod. “Eat. I have bandages to treat your wounds when you’re done.”

Traveler was quiet as they finished eating and allowed Innkeeper to bandage their wounds. Only after Innkeeper refilled their Ale and handed them a room key did the unpaying guest speak, “Why are you being so kind to me? When the traders saw my empty bags, they wouldn’t allow me into the market. I have nothing to give you except maybe a story. Though, I fear you’ve already heard most of them. My recent travels have not seemed to end well.”

“You owe me nothing for this night. Your visits have kept my family fed and comfortable through many challenging months. That is payment enough. Though, you could tell me your name. Through the many months you have come and gone, I have never heard your name, only what the villagers call you.”

Chuckling softly, Traveler’s brow rose in question, “What do the villagers call me?”

Innkeeper’s lips quirked up in an unwitting smile, “They simply call you Traveler.”

This time, full-bellied laughter filled the main hall, leaving Traveler clutching their side against the pain. “Traveler. I have been called many names over the years, though that one seems to fit the most. My true name is one I haven’t heard in a lifetime. It seems the thieving winds that try to blow me away as I walk down the winding roads have swept into my mind and stolen it from me. You may as well continue calling me Traveler, as I have no other name to give you. Though, Innkeeper, I do wonder… If you can give me a new name, might I give you one as well?”

“Perhaps. What name would you give me?”

“Friend.”

Traveler was gone the following morning. The same as every morning before. They tried to visit the village more frequently after that night. Innkeeper always smiled at Traveler’s mischievous wink as they opened the Inn’s doors to allow the flood of hungry villagers following them to enter.

One thing that changed was that Traveler began going to their room earlier. They would hide away until the villagers finished their food and drinks, then returned to the main hall to sit with Innkeeper.

Sometimes, the two would simply sit in companionable silence, Traveler exhausted from the day of travel and evening of entertaining the villagers. Other times, the two would talk. Innkeeper would keep the remaining guests' drinks filled, then linger around Traveler to hear the stories they didn’t tell the others— their struggles, as well as the small joys the crowds would find boring.

Then came a month when Traveler didn’t come to the village. One month became two, then three, and four. Four months became a year. Each time news of a lone stranger in the town spread to Innkeeper’s small Inn, they prepared a new lecture to give Traveler for staying away and leaving their business to rot without their support. Each time Innkeeper was disappointed when a different stranger walked through their door.

A year and three months passed, and word finally came that Traveler had returned. It was the blacksmith who told Innkeeper the news between giant bites of his lunch. Traveler was back and telling his stories to all who would listen right in the middle of the market.

If anyone asked, Innkeeper would deny that they ran all the way from their Inn to the market. They had just wanted to get more fish to cook later for dinner, and encouraging Traveler to bring the village to eat was just an extra incentive to take the opportunity to go. Innkeeper wasn’t worried about Traveler or why they had been gone so long.

If they had been worried, it would have been for good reason. The sight before them was worrisome indeed. Traveler stood on the wall of the well in the middle of the market. Though, standing was a bit of a stretch with how heavily they were leaning against the beams holding up the bucket for drawing water. Their skin was pale and covered with sweat as they told their story with half the enthusiasm Innkeeper was used to seeing when they performed.

Traveler seemed moments from falling backward into the well, so Innkeeper did what needed to be done. They marched through the crowd and, as they yanked Traveler down from the wall, announced, “Thank you all for your attention. Traveler is needed elsewhere.” It took two tries for them to lift Traveler’s bags onto their back and untie their new horse from the post, but soon they were off with Traveler in tow.

The walk back to the Inn was quiet. Traveler kept their eyes down on their feet, only occasionally glancing up to find their bag and their horse. They stumbled so much that Innkeeper eventually helped them into their saddle to let the horse carry them for the rest of the short walk. Moments later, they were asleep.

Hidden away in the inn’s stables, Innkeeper let themselves press the back of their hand to Traveler’s forehead. It was burning up. This close, they could see just how much weight Traveler had lost. The sight was frightening.

Despite Innkeeper’s encouragement, Traveler could only barely wake enough to stumble along, leaning heavily against Innkeeper as they walked Traveler to their personal room.

Innkeeper stayed with Traveler through dinner and late into the night. They weren’t in good shape. The sickness had a deep hold on them. The fever was worse and a deep cough in their chest made their body lurch in Innkeeper’s bed. It wasn’t until near dawn that the fever eased, and Traveler opened their eyes.

“Good morning. If you’re thinking of leaving before the town wakes, then think again. You owe me a little more than what you have in that lightweight money pouch for the room and for nursing you back to health,” Innkeeper whispered as they wiped away the sweat from Traveler’s brow.

“My friend. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’m at the Inn then?” Despite the audible sickness in Traveler’s voice, Innkeeper was glad to hear it again. And yet, they found a sudden anger rising in their chest as Traveler attempted to rise from the bed.

“More than a year, you fool. You’ve been gone for more than a year, then come back half dead and still call me friend?” Innkeeper shoved Traveler back down and stood to dump the bowl of water they had been using to dampen their rag out the window and onto the street below. “What happened to you? No stories. Why didn’t you come back?”

“A year.” Traveler draped their arm over their eyes. “The thieving wind. It must have slipped into my mind and stolen the time away. I had no idea—”

“No stories.”

“They wouldn’t let me go. I was just looking for a home. It’s all I want. I thought I’d found it, but they wouldn’t let me leave. Then I got sick… Where is your spouse? Is your son caring for the bar?”

“My son has found a wife and has moved to the town to the south in search of better work. My spouse passed away nearly six months ago. A lot has happened in a year.”

Traveler’s body tensed, but they didn’t move their arm. “I see. I am sorry it has taken me so long to return to you, my friend, but as time has slipped away, wisdom has taken its place. I know now I cannot stay for long. I need to keep looking. I can’t pay you in full for the room, but I promise I’ll pay you the rest when the wind pulls me back to your Inn.”

“You should stop letting wind travel through your lungs and head; one day, this will kill you.” Innkeeper pulled the blankets up around Traveler’s shoulders. “If a home is what you’ve been looking for all this time, can you not find one here? I am an innkeeper. The people who come to see me are always passing through on their path to another town. I could use a friend who will stay around.”

“You would call me your friend?” Traveler’s eyes peeked up at Innkeeper. The fever was back, but their vision seemed clear.

“I would. If you stick around until tomorrow to let me.” Innkeeper turned down the lantern next to the bed. The sun would soon shine through the window well enough for them to see without it. “Rest, my friend. We’ll talk more when you’re well.”

Part 2

#whump fic #whump scenario #whump #whump writing #hurt/comfort #sickfic #finding friends #searching for something #at some point this became over 2k words #answered ask

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