Stranger In My Inn

A tale in the style of the Grimm or Aesop Fables where a story is told, a lesson is taught, and the reader decides what they learn.

A Father’s Daughter

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As Georgia served her never-ending stream of customers, she couldn’t help but overhear a conversation between a father and his young daughter, nestled into one of the farthest corners of the room. The father, a tall scruffy, and stout man, regaled his wide-eyed daughter with tales of his youth, describing fantastical lands and grand adventures that could only exist in the realm of imagination. Though Georgia was occupied attending to her duties, she smiled as she heard the little girl’s awe-stricken gasps in between each story.

Georgia had no problem keeping herself busy filling orders throughout the evening. She took the opportunity to continue to listen to the father and daughter as it reminded her of her own childhood and her father who had been a very worldly person.

On one of her rounds to deliver another round of drinks and fresh bread she remembers hearing the young girl pleading with her father, “Papa, please, another story! Tell me about the land where the creatures could change their shape and control the elements!”

The stories of great battles and daring escapes came to life in the little girl’s eyes, and as the father continued, she could sense the growing excitement in his daughter’s voice. The sweet sincerity of the interaction filled Georgia’s heart with warmth, and she wondered what her own father was up to since he left the inn to travel.

Georgia was in her young thirties but in good shape from her long days of preparing meals, maintaining the inn, and serving patrons and guest food and drinks through the night. It was not often she found herself with idle time. Her auburn hair was tied into a ponytail, revealing her delicate features and bright green eyes.

She was quite attractive, which is why she was also well liked. Even with those like the rowdy group she had finished serving another round to, they always tipped her generously and complimented her smile.

The inn was hers; her father gave it to her when he decided to retire. He had told her, “Georgia; I am going on a journey to visit the lands and learn what I can. I’ve had myself tied to this place for too long now and yearn for an adventure”.

She had hugged him and wished him well, knowing he deserved some freedom after working hard for so many years. She loved the inn and its regulars, but sometimes she wondered what else was out there for her.

She chuckled to herself thinking. “Imagine that he didn’t decide to putter around this town chewing on the local’s ears. Sharing his stories from the inn. He wanted to go out and create his own adventure he had told her.”

Georgia had just finished delivering some desserts to the table with the father and daughter letting them know it was compliments of the house and she appreciated the wonderful stories he told his daughter. The young child turned and gave Georgia a shy smile, “Thank you, lady. Your place is magic, “she whispered, clearly believing the tales her father had been telling her. Georgia just smiled, thinking about the girl’s innocence and belief in the stories her father had told her.

Bring Us Another Round!

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“Georgia, bring us another round, will you? Our mouths are beginning to feel gritty like we were stranded in the sand flats without a drop of water in sight.” Georgia looked towards the caller. A man of middle age, often found at the same table with the same group of friends each night at the end.
She responded back, “I’ll get you a round soon enough. Let’s hope your breath doesn’t smell as bad as the carcasses rotting under those hot desert suns of the sand flats.” The caller responded, “Oh, you’re full of funny today aren’t you!” She called back as she filled the mugs up with more ale for the group of them to drink. “More truth in it then the lies your table circulates everyday around here.”

One of the parties at the table, a younger man with long braided hair joked to the group, “What’s she knows about truth. You’d think she’s got a standoff understanding of it the way she criticizes us.” Another older member of their group spoke out and said, “Careful now, remember who your talking to.” The younger man said, “she just a girl, what’s there to be worried about? You think she could do something about me, Ha!” He then swirled the last of his ale around in the bottom of the glass.

The older man responded, “Get her mad enough and you’ll find out what a tiger she can be. She also carries fangs in the form of those long knives she keeps strapped to her at the top of her calf high boots. I’ve seen her use those before and she knows how to make them bite.” The younger man then said, “Alright, I’ll leave her alone.” He paused a moment then said, “Don’t she know though that the truth is what you can get people to believe in.”

The rest of them at the table chimed in and said, “Yeah, that’s right, we all know that it’s easy enough to bend the facts. A little bit here or there and you can get what people thought they believed into something you want them to.” The table broke out in a chorus of laughter. Despite their teasing banter, Georgia held her own against the group, her wit just as sharp as their tongues. Those that knew her well enough because they frequented the inn, knew she was not a stranger to knowing the truth of things, even when others attempted to hide it.Perhaps it was her experience as an innkeeper’s daughter – a lifetime spent listening to the stories of countless travelers passing through, learning how to separate the myths from the truths. It appears she had an ability to recognize the latter no matter how masterfully disguised, much to the amusement or dismay of those around her.

As the evening progressed, the inn’s common room filled with the typical patrons: weary travelers, local
farmers, and craftsmen enjoying their night off. The flickering warmth of a roaring fire mixed with muted chatter, laughter, and occasionally, the raised voice of a bartering dispute. The air was heavy with the aroma of stew, fresh bread, and a tinge of tobacco smoke. It was a comforting cacophony that made any visitor feel welcome and at home.

Uncovering The Truth

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“Truth is not opinion but facts that support outcomes!”

“When you look for the truth, do you listen to the loud clamor of voices demanding their opinion is the only one. Do you investigate the facts that support the premise that the truth is founded on, then determine if the foundation of facts support the outcome? Or is it a two-sided coin that displays two faces, one of undeniable fact, the other of perceived opinion”