*grumbles something about peer pressure or some shit*
Bard rapped the back of his hand against the oak door, his letter of introduction folded neatly and sealed in dark, red wax in his other hand. As he waited, he glanced around the wide entryway, taking in the old, pale stone and dark wooden carvings. A home of some wealth. But Lord Oropherion had a reputation regarding the finer things. Bard swallowed and shifted, acutely aware of how old his suit was and the exact locations where the fabric had begun to thin.
Bloody hell, this will never work. He stiffened at the noise behind the door.
It swung open to reveal an elf in a neat suit, likely worth more than Bard's last year of pay. He eyed Bard and asked, “Might I help you?”
Shite. Bard held out the envelope. “Er, his lordship had placed a vacancy? I would humbly –” he stopped when the elf took the envelope.
“You’re hired,” he stated.
Bard blinked. “Pardon?”
The elf sighed and tore up the envelope. “Two others bothered to arrive; one nearly wet himself when introduced to Lord Oropherion and the other broke a priceless chandelier.” The elf frowned. “I’m still uncertain how he managed that.”
Confused, Bard scratched his jaw. “I, er, I have children. Three.”
The elf nodded. “Your quarters will be in the carriage house behind the main house.” He slipped out the door, shutting it behind him and gesturing for Bard to follow. “I am Feren, Lord Oropherion’s retainer.” He stopped. Started walking again. “Well, I put up with him anyway.”
Bard hurried after the elf, completely lost. “I … sir, I’m sorry but I don’t –”
Feren looked at Bard over his shoulder. “Lord Oropherion can be an overbearing arse on a good day. We have gone through several manservants in the last year and frankly, if you can put up with his attitude, I’ll see to it that your pay doubles by the month’s end.”
Bard stumbled to a stop. “What?”
Feren sighed and turned, though he kept walking backward. “I’ve raised the bloody git; I can say these things.” He turned back around. “You, however, will need to watch your tongue. He’s still Mirkwood nobility.”
“Of course.”
Head swimming, he fell silent as Feren led him to the carriage house. It was a pleasant structure, mostly wooden with the lower quarter of the walls the same pale stone as the main house. Inside, he was pleased to see it was more than spacious enough for he and the children.
“So. Will you take the position?”
“I’ve not yet met his lordship, he might –”
Feren rolled his eyes. “Sod it. He’s given me full decision on this.” Feren squinted. “I like the look of you. Therefore, I will hire you.”
“You don’t even know my name!”
The elf quirked an eyebrow. He held up the ruined envelope and picked at it, pulling out one corner. “Hmm. Bard. Bowman. There.” He crumpled the paper. “I now know your name.”
At the continued silence, Feren cleared his throat. “Well? You know his reputation. You know his wealth. What say you?”
Ah, shite. Bard nodded. “I’ll take it.”
Feren grinned. “Brilliant. You start tomorrow.” He patted Bard’s shoulder. “Do prepare yourself, Mr. Bowman.” Without another word, Feren marched off, heading back to the main house.
Bard let out a breath. He looked back at the carriage house. “Well.” Still marveling at everything, he trudged off, heading to Percy’s home to collect his children and their few meager belongings.
So, things had gone far better than he had hoped. Perhaps that meant the worst was finally behind them.