14th
We’re not in Kansas Anymore…
It was perhaps another half mile before I actually entered what I considered was the main part of the village, where I could see a dirt road between two authentic looking buildings just up ahead, varying in size but both very large. These and the other buildings which I could see would’ve fit well in any movie about middle-age England. They were so realistic; they must’ve taken many painstaking hours to recreate for whatever purpose this place serves.
I then saw an older man step across the area between the buildings, pulling a rustic wooden cart of corn and other vegetables behind him. The cart had wooden spoke wheels and two poles adorned with a strap that fit across the man’s abdomen. He seemed to be pulling it with ease despite his older appearance.
The old man was tan but fair-skinned with thick locks of white hair with a matching bushy beard and mustache, though the mustache was pointed and curled on the ends. He wore a wide brimmed straw hat that had seen better days but obviously was good enough to keep the sun out of the old farmer’s eyes.
His clothes were made of very simple looking cloth. His pale green shirt was a button down with no collar or front pocket and the farmer had rolled up the sleeves past the elbows. His pants were made of the same material, though a light brown in color with the bottom’s cut short of his ankles and frayed beyond repair. He looked as if he had been working in the field as his old leather boots were covered in dirt. Fortunately for his feet, his boots seemed to be in the best condition of all of his clothes.
As I approached the old man, he caught a glimpse of me out of the corner of his eye and he stopped and turned to stare at me, his eyes widening as he studied me. I put my hand up in a slight wave as I stopped too, about six feet away from him.
“Hello sir. I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m… ummm… lost and I need to use a phone. Is there one around here somewhere?” ‘Lost’ was the best description I could come up with to describe my predicament.
The old man continued to stare at me, moving his eyes up and down and obviously studying my clothes. His old blue eyes met with mine and he cracked a thin smile. “You can divine a knowin’ about a man from his clothes… and you sir are not from around here… are you?” His accent was very strange, but I guessed that he was Scottish, perhaps losing his natural accent here in the states. His stare continued without blinking and it was clearly obvious that the old man seemed as confused as I was.
“No, no I’m not. That’s a good guess though. My car broke down a few miles from here and…”
“Car?” the old man interrupted. “What in the hells is that? I’ve ne’er heard of such a device. My guess was that you were hard of hearing.” he said plainly, finally blinking his eyes slowly.
I wasn’t exactly sure what he had meant by ‘hard of hearing’ but I choose to ignore it for now. “Yes my car,” I stopped for a moment. Who in this day and age hasn’t heard of a car, I thought to myself. “You… don’t know what a car is?”
The old farmer shook his head, blinking once more.
Either this guy was a nut or he was seriously pulling my chain and I wasn’t in the mood to mess around. “Never mind. Is there a phone I can use somewhere around here?”
“So you are hard of hearing! Me too, got my fone right here.” he said as he reached into a pants pocket and pulled a small cone shaped device out and showed it to me, holding it out so I could see. “Works great too. The old buggard Banderwash made it for me some four years ago when I lost a bit o’ hearing in my right ear.. Hasn’t failed me once. I’d let you use it son, but I don’t even know your name.”
“That’s not the kind of phone I was talking about.” I said staring at the old fashioned hearing aid in his hand. “I need a telephone so I can make a phone call.”
The old man again shook his head, denying the existence of telephones too. I was starting to get a little frustrated with him when he said something that caught me off guard. “I see now. Yer one of them magefolk are you not? That would explain the strange clothes and those huge pockets on your pants.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I said angrily this time. “Are you messin’ with me? Because I’ve been walking all freakin’ morning through that field with no shoes and nothing to eat or drink. I am not in the mood to play games if that’s your plan.”
“Listen friend,” the old man said, shaking his head again and looking away from me. “Around these parts, we have a saying, ‘rudeness gets ye nowhere’, coined by an old friend o’ mine. Good day to you sir. Perhaps you’ll find what you require in that tavern ov’r there.”
He pointed across the street to a building with an old wooden sign that read ‘Neverwinter Inn’. It was a long building, almost as long as a supermarket might be, but had a first floor made of stone and a second floor seemingly made of wood and adorned with a thatched, but solid rooftop. I could barely believe my eyes when I saw two men dressed as medieval soldiers entering the place through it’s wooden saloon-style doors. They were dressed in chain mail shirts and carrying swords but the style of clothes looked pretty authentic.
As I stared in disbelief, the old man started off again on his way. “Wait!” I called to him, but he simply tipped his hat and nodded slightly, continuing to pull his cart. I must’ve really pissed him off. “Wonderful.” I sighed.
As I looked around, I noticed that there were quite a few people out and about, all dressed like common folk might be in a middle-age style village. Everyone was looking at me quite strangely. A older, portly woman in a simple dress even changed her direction to avoid having to make eye contact with me. And the old man says I’m rude.
Still, the strange looks were coming from everyone I could catch staring at me. Some didn’t even bother to look away. It soon became clear that it was I who was out of place here. I quickly headed toward the inn at the old man’s suggestion, if not only to hide from everyone outside. I thought of the old line so often used in the movies as a nod towards the Wizard of Oz, ‘We’re not in Kansas anymore Toto!’
