Chapter 2

“Tamer’s Tale” by JunoMagic

Chapter 2: A Wizard’s Housekeeper

While her grandmother had never seen the wizard during her lifetime, he had come to Himling twice when Tamer was still a child.

She remembered sitting on his knees and braiding his beard while he told her tales of dragons and small creatures he called ‘Hobbits’ in the fourth winter of her life. She recalled his laughter, rolling and deep like thunder, but it was a happy sound, rollicking, and not at all scary.

He had returned ten years later, when she was almost a woman grown, a gawky girl of fourteen. She recalled more details of this encounter, since she had been among the first who had spied his ship from the eastern cliffs above the village.

He sailed into the harbour in a small grey boat on a clear autumn evening, a day of extraordinary fair weather and surprisingly steady winds for that time of the years. She recognised him at once. His attire—a shimmering grey cloak, silver scarf, and blue hat—was foreign to her eyes, used to the drab, home-spun dresses of Himling’s wool as she was. Most of all she remembered the long white beard and the bushy eyebrows. When his dark eyes met hers, filled with a hidden fire, her heartbeat quickened with excitement, and she felt as if he had never been gone.

She ran to tell her mother even as he stepped ashore. A fire had to burn brightly in the fireplace when he reached his cottage, and a hearty stew should be simmering on his hearth to welcome him to his home after so many years.

But at that time Tamer’s mother was already ailing. Tamer was the oldest of seven children; one stillborn, two buried before they had seen their seventh summer. It was a hard life on the island, and it did not allow for an easy old age. So it was Tamer who ended up kindling the fire and putting the large pot on the hearth for the stew. In the end, she even stayed in the small chamber off the kitchen to take care of the wizard’s everyday needs, to spare her mother the effort. Though later Tamer often thought that serving the wizard would have been the easier task for her mother. Compared to the needs and wants of three weans and a husband, Tamer’s mother would likely have found tending to the wizard a respite, as the old man had not many needs that required the presence of a servant.

Indeed, upon hearing about her mother being so poorly, the wizard even suggested that Tamer return home in order to stay with her mother and care for her, and not for him. But being the housekeeper of the grey wizard was a matter of pride for her family. Keeping up the wizard’s cottage and garden had been the mainstay of her family for generations. Thus Tamer’s fear of losing his good-will was not small, despite his renowned gentleness in his dealings with his housekeepers. Consequently, there was no question about the issue where Tamer’s mother and Tamer herself were concerned: as the oldest girl, Tamer would be the next housekeeper—and she was more than old enough to live up to that responsibility. Indeed, she had better rise to the occasion splendidly. For although her health was failing, her mother expected a daily report, and the belt of Tamer’s father was made of thick leather, broad and painful in its licks, should her efforts not be deemed satisfactory.

“‘Tis a shame really,” her mother wheezed. “I should have had the cottage prepared and the meal cooking the moment he stepped ashore. You need to uphold our honour, Tamer. Our good name depends on you.”

So Tamer donned a grown woman’s garb of long dress, apron, and proper kertch for the first time in her life, packed her bundle and bid her family goodbye. Very straight she held herself, almost painfully aware of her new status, trying to suppress her nervousness, trying to ignore the curious looks of neighbours, and the cheerful chatter of the children. She was the wizard’s housekeeper now, and on her shoulder’s rested the well-being of her whole family.

It was early evening when she reached the cottage.

The wizard sat on the bench in front of the house, smoking a long, curved pipe, leisurely blowing pipe rings into the soft lights of the dusk.

Tamer curtsied as prettily as she knew how, keeping her eyes as low as her mother had taught her to.

“Good evening, master,” she said, trying to mind the manner of speech the way her parents insisted was the proper way of speaking, the clear clipped sounds of the mainland as opposed to the lilting singsong of their island voices. “I will be cooking dinner in but a moment, if you just allow me to put my things in the chamber. Unless you need me at once for anything?”

Aware of how nervous and rushed her words tumbled out of her mouth, she felt her cheeks glow with embarrassment and stared down at the tips of her scuffed shoes. The stew should have been ready the moment he put into harbour. If she only knew how the previous housekeepers had known that their master was on the way…

“Nay, Tamer,” the wizard replied. His voice scratchy in a way that sent a shiver down her spine, but friendly, relieving her of some of her worries. “Don’t worry, my dear. I need a housekeeper—if even that—and certainly not a slave. Get settled down, and I’ll be quite happy with whatever soup you can put on the table tonight.”

“You’re very kind, master,” she mumbled, blushing even more. Then she hurried inside, convinced that she would never live up to the task of being a wizard’s housekeeper.

oooOooo

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