Fiction Friday: The Legend of Leonard Letterman, Pt 38

Previously: The Legend of Leonard Letterman, Pt 37

It was instead, a young woman with white eyes and skin to rival Ursa’s in its paleness that barely reached Leonard’s navel. She had a simple smile on her face and held out a tray with a annie-spratt-227757.jpgmodest meal and a mug of some liquid with a sweet scent; the refreshments that Osric had said would be along.

“Uh- Thank you,” Leonard said with an uncertain smile as he reached for the tray, unsure if she could see him.

Her dainty fingers released the tray into Leonard’s hands. He was about to turn and place the tray on his bed when a voice as soft as feather pillow halted his movement. “Dip in the tea, much tastier,” she said with a big smile, pointing without looking at what appeared to be a large hunk of bread on Leonard’s tray with.

“Thanks,” he replied lamely, returning her smile. She saved him the struggle of finding something else to say by turning and skipping down the black hallway, seemingly without a care. She too was soon swallowed by the darkness.

Leonard shook his head with a chuckle and shut the door with his foot after reentering his room, his hands occupied with holding the tray level; the mug was filled nearly to the brim and in danger of spilling over.

He lowered the tray carefully then took a seat beside it with equal caution and examined his meal. Besides the bread, there looked to be a couple of pieces of some sort of dried fruit that Leonard had never seen before and was sure did not grow on his own world.

Leonard tore off a piece of the bread, then tore it in half. He popped the first piece into his mouth and chewed the rough and mostly tasteless morsel, unable to keep from making a face. He looked at the piece in his waiting hand and dipped it into the mug while he swallowed the last bits in his mouth, hoping his delivering friend was right about the tea making it better.

With a shrug, Leonard ate the other piece; the difference was night and day. The sweet scent of the tea translated to a rich and satiating flavor that tickled Leonard’s tongue. The bread had soaked up the tea the way sponges do water, making each bite a rush of flavor. He broke off another piece and dunked it, grateful to his unnamed benefactor of a more pleasant meal.

Leonard was reaching for the mug, intending to try a sip of tea on its own, when another knock shook the door. For a brief moment he thought it might be Osric, but the rattling of the door from the force of the knocker convinced him otherwise.

He rose slowly and inched towards the door, which continued to shake from another forceful series of raps. Leonard cleared his throat and took a deep breath before pulling the door open.

Wolfhart’s untamed and alarming appearance loomed in the doorway, pushing the door open with a boorish shove. Leonard was forced to step back to allow him in or be shoved backwards. Wolfhart closed the door with a heavy thud, surveying the room briefly before turning to Leonard.

“You know, it’s more polite to wait for an invitation before entering someone else’s room,” Leonard said, unable to help himself as the mountainous man glared at him.

After a solid minute of hard staring, Wolfhart severed eye contact and turned to the weapons tucked in the corner. Leonard’s heart beat faster as the other man pulled Leonard’s sword from its sheath. Wolfhart weighed it in his hand, shifting it deftly from one hand to the other.

Leonard’s heart found its way into his throat.


Click here for Part 39!

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2 thoughts on “Fiction Friday: The Legend of Leonard Letterman, Pt 38

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