ENCOUNTER THREE, THIRD TIME IS THE CHARM
In her belief that her third encounter would be the best of the lot(Excluding her gratefulness for Miss Vaven, of course), Lock would set out carefully for whom to approach. She did not pick inside of the inn, rather outside of it—a man leaning against a row of fences, opposite of the inn. His features were graced by a shadowing hood, his hands and arms unseen by the throw of a cloak.
She started with her usual, hopefully charming, inquire to if he had spare coins. Benny at her side fell into alert as the man began to shift forward, a low growl rippling from his shut maw, cheeks pulling back to reveal sharp and yellow teeth. The man practically collapsed in front of her, his breath a heavy wheeze, bright eyes that to Lock were a shining shade of grey. She could not tell what lay behind those eyes, but most thoughts were muddled in the confusion of his doings. He ignored the warning noises from the guard-mutt at her side, idling at eye-level, the air around him shifting like a storm.
And then...He rose back up, until his height towered over her once more, those unstable iris' hidden once more by the sanctity of unseeing darkness. His voice was a beautiful, foreign melody, and Lock could not place it—it sounded not that of Bree, nor the fleeting accents of Rohan and Gondor that she had heard before. She imagined further and further north, but she couldn't be anything sure.
His hand provided a small trinket, now, offering it out. She thought it to be a coin at first, though it was just somewhat different...Flat and oval. She couldn't tell the color, for any inscriptions were destroyed by however it had been flattened. In a nearly annoyed tone, he explained that it was useless to spend, but the last of his personal belongings. He would finally settle on agreeing that it was merely a good-luck charm, and with that, would send her off.
So Lock fled into the inn, clutching the misshapen coin into the flat of her palm. As she'd press against the wall, fiddling it between her digits as she peered around the empty room, asides from quiet patrons tucked into the corner, and Barliman behind the bar.
Which brings us to...
LEARNED HELPLESSNESS
It wasn't long, in those silent passing minutes, that a person soon came in to drink. He'd go straight to the bar, and Lock felt the luckiest in the world—she had run out of Miss Vaven's money the night before, spent on trying to eat regularly, and she had some left to herself. But her goal had been for awhile to save money, and so the last few silvers tucked away were a fortune to keep in the worst of times. She'd slid up behind him, calling for his attention, beaming a bright-bright-bright grin!
...And from there, he had no interest in helping her. No coins to just give away, and no jobs other than having a go at full-grown men, a job Lock didn't doubt she'd have no skill in whatsoever. She had been pushing for hopes of luck, but when she was finally accepting that there was nothing to get out of it, another voice called for Lock's attention.
She spun around, a kinder face meeting her young one. After a short talk, in which he learned that she was rather homeless(asides from a few living arrangements made by lucky encounters), he would give her a silver, along with enough coppers for a meal. After thanking him, Lock would happily bound to the bar—keeping away from the first man, whom at this point had loudly stated how much he disliked a street urchin being allowed to beg in the bar, putting Lock at unease—ordering a broth, easy on er shrunken stomach. It wouldn't take long to be fetched, a cauldron already prepared from previous meals, and the girl would make to seat herself at one of the long tables provided.
Minutes passed, allowing it to cool...And what would she know—right as she'd take the first spoonful of liquid, the former man would appear behind her, demanding the meal to be his!
It was hardly an exchange of protest, but he'd shove her right from the bench, proclaiming that THIS was how to get a meal when you were hungry! She'd stutter a few times, before becoming too overwhelmed, dashing off out of the mainroom in a confused and frightened cluster.
LATER: THE LAW IS RED, THEREFORE IMPORTANT!
Miss Rhyva Red is the Watch Captain!
Or so would say Sir Watcher Masrick, though she'd easily believe this claim—Miss Red was a wonderful woman, and surely quite capable of the job! The news excited her, and she was all too encouraged to befriend the man under her.
As part of a game, she supposed, he agreed to give her silver coins if she'd run from the mainroom of the inn to the back, and then turn around and return, all whilst holding an ale; but the catch was, she didn't get anything if she should spill it.
It took nearly a minute full of scrambling and jumping up steps, before she'd catch her foot, a large splash of ale sent over the wooden floor. In defeated stupor, she'd only half-run back to the bar, where the Watchman waited for her return. Handing it over, she'd mumble an apology. But he assured her it was alright, extending a coin for her reach—she'd assume it to be a copper, hardly in the mood to scrutinize it for inscriptions or the such.
But no! He'd proclaim it to be a gold piece! ...She still didn't know how much a gold was worth. In her mind, she envisioned it worth one grand meal, covering every inch of a tabletop! Even so, she slipped it into her coinpouch, attention turning as the man asked if she'd like something to eat.
He'd lead her back to the kitchen, filling a mug with broth from a pot, telling her to not tell Barliman; she pushed in confusion, unaware that he was just taking it. He'd move on to explain that it was okay for her to nab an apple, or a bowl of soup, without paying, if she needed it. She'd nod slowly, mind turning to the man who had taken her soup; perhaps it was okay for him to have done that, if he needed it?...She'd put it to note in her mind to offer him a payed soup, someday, now feeling bad.
Time passed, and she'd soon bid her way out, needing to finalize a place to sleep, now that she was without a room in the inn.
Following...
THIEVERY! IT'S NOT OKAY!
Least to say, flashing a gold coin surrounded by those who could never begin to hope to hold that much at once was a horrid idea. As well as was Lock attempting to sleep on the streets again; even with Benny at her side, she'd find herself robbed completely of anything by quick hands in a dark night, too stunned to send the guard after them.
So that night she went to bed cold, curled up in a damp and secluded corner where cobblestone had faded into dirt, stomach rumbling in the knowledge that it might be more than a day before she ate again.
She really hoped Miss Vaven would be back soon.
The next day, after following hours of pointless begging for coin and attempts at odd-jobs, she'd slink out of the inn, into the sun which warmed the crisp air with it's kiss of rays. And what a sight it'd bring—Miss Red, outfitted as aforementioned, a Captain of the Watch!
Bounding to her side, she quickly launched into conversation of her new career, and the dogs left behind; a new, harder job for Lock to try! Taking care of the beasts so that Miss Red could do her new line of care!
But the matter of her newly learned cheat of life, by Sir Watcher Masrick, would come up. In some fluster, Miss Red quickly demolished the idea that taking anything for any reason was alright in the least, leaving Lock once more conflicted about the man who had taken her broth. Maybe he just hadn't learned that it wasn't right, yet?...She would tell him, and still buy him a soup, she decided!
...Once she got more coin, of course.
After the meeting cut short, Lock would retrieve Benny, the two slinking off into the streets in prowl for some luck...She certainly hadn't had any, after the strange man had given her the charm.
