Hospitality

[The cover of this book is stamped with the symbol of Cyrrollalee, an open door.]

Far from the hin lands of Luiren sat a village. A proper hinnish village with dirt trails, swaths of green grass, deep burrows and warm hearths. Not one of those nasty swampy villages or bricked towns where your feet are cold, or with beggars on the street - no. This village was best known for nothing more than being a lovely little town full of kind hearts and shared meals.

So they came to the Cyrrollalee festival, a traditional day of opening your homes and sharing with your neighbours. Under the shining sun and amongst the waving wind they prepared. Tables and banners, cloths and plates, large pots that took two hin to carry across and platters of sweets for the young and old alike. The village celebrated together, and worked hard together to prepare and to enjoy song and laughter, fun and mischief all day and night long.

So none noticed the young hin lad ride into down on his pony, a gleam in his eye and a smile upon his lips. So busy was the village that while he smiled charmingly with his dashing looks, he quickly grew frustrated that none would pay him attention. So he got off his pony and tied it to a tree and found a shady spot to wait until the festival started.

With rumbling stomachs the hin of the village and surrounding area began the festival with lunch. So the lad went out to mingle and charm - hopefully with at least one poor young lass. He was welcomed warmly to the festival, even though he wasn't known; for there was food for all and conversation for days. Yet, without roots in the town he had little interest in the gossip, the talk of local farms, of the local fishers or whatever. He simply didn't care, this town was boring. All he could speak of was his pony and travels, his clothes and dashing good looks.

Yet, such self interest was boring to the town. All he wanted to talk about was how amazing he was, and few wanted were interested in talking to him; rapidly making excuses to be elsewhere. He was welcome, but he wasn't exactly fun to be around in a time of celebration. After the fifth such time it was rather obvious even to him that he was being avoided. So the lad proposed a challenge. He challenge all within the village, stating he could out-boast anyone within this boring town.

The farmers boasted together of their cows and their sheep, their vast lands full of food to feed the village.

"Hah!" The lad laughed mockingly, belittling the farmers, "Cows and sheep with their muck and their work. You have to work hard all day for meagre coin, where as I can travel where my whims take me!"

So the farmers left, grumbling.

The fishermen boasted about the giant fish they caught, one which was almost as large as him! All the thought put into the right bait and the right lines, lest they catch nothing. It was an art.

The lad laughed in their faces, "Oh how bored you must be to fish, sure you have moments of excitement but my entire life is excitement!"

So the fishermen left, grumbling.

The village guards spoke of keeping the town safe, of carrying a few drunks home after a rowdy night at the taverns.

"Hah, so you're glorified nannies, you sops." insulted the lad, becoming increasingly insufferable.

So the guards rolled their eyes and left.

No one further offered words, and more than a few frowns he got. While he was still 'welcome', he'd made enough of a fool of himself that none sought to talk to him. Yet he had his victory, and he was as smug as he could be. Not a single lass or lad found him charming, he won no new friends and even during a festival of Cyrrollalee, he wasn't offered free lodging for the night. The lad stomped his feet and huffed for his lack of success, no one cared about his boasts when he wasn't a part of their community; he was just seen as self interested and arrogant.

So he left, upset. This town was boring, the lasses were all fools for not being charmed by him. He would go find a better village, one that didn't waste his time. Back to his tree he went.

But where was his pony?

Missing with his pony was his bedding and belongings, his provisions and everything. The festival was winding down for the day and he couldn't find his pony anywhere. Looking like a lost lamb, the embarrassed lad had to go ask the guards for help. The same guards he had mocked as glorified nannies were now those he needed. The guard nodded and said he knew where it was, and lead the lad towards it. Not once did he mock the lad, or show any hostility towards his past actions; but neither did he make efforts to relieve the lad of his embarrassment at losing his horse.

There was his horse! But something was different. Strapped to the pony was a bag of fresh fruits and vegetables and a loaf of bread from the farms. On the other side was a large smoked fish, perfect for a traveller, from the nearby river. Another bag of sweets from the festival wrapped up the supplies he had been gifted.

"Maybe next time you visit, you can keep your foot out of your mouth, huh?" said the guard and offered the lad a smile as he offered him the reigns.

So the lad, red faced, apologized for being such a fool and snubbing the town, and promised to come back next year with stories to share.

The lad had learned his lesson as he rode off into the sunset. Hospitality goes both way, respect and welcome for the guest, and respect for the hosts and their home. So the lad was welcomed at each town he went next, and found many new friends and even charmed a few lasses along his way.

Originally told by Meriam Fuzzypaw during the first Day of Stories. Recorded, written and embellished by Minto T Fuzzypaw.