The Green Boar: Part 5

The story so far... Leanne is defending herself against the blue bear, who seems to be really keen on her being an optimist, or something. But, right now she can’t see anything optimistic about this plainly weird situation, and Le’Roy, the Green Boar, is doing nothing to help, instead he’s gone to sleep, listen, you can hear him snoring...

She waved the mop in a threatening manner at the bear, ignoring the way the string head flopped about unmenacingly, and shouted ‘Tell me what’s going on. Who are you? What is this place? What were those things out there, and what’s all this stuff about optimism?”

The bear looked taken aback. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Le’Roy? He didn’t tell me anything.”

The bear looked shocked. Then he muttered and puttered under his breath, his paws clasped and unclasped again. He seemed most put out by her claim. If it were possible to twiddle claws in the way she could twiddle her thumbs, then that was exactly what he was doing; he seemed not to be at all the aggressive bear who moments ago had her pinned to the carpet with a gun at her forehead. Eventually, he said, “But, and I’m so sorry lady, if it appears rude of me to say, but it appears that you came anyway?”

Well it was true, she had. It made her feel stupid. Of course she had come anyway; it had sounded exciting, there had been money in it, but now her willingness embarrassed her. She opened her mouth and closed it again, there was of course no point in denying it; the evidence was in front of her. She had been all too eager to jump on her bike and go off on an adventure, trusting that she would be safe. She knew now she had trusted too much too quickly.

He put his head to one side and considered her thoughtfully, and she remembered, for a moment, how it was to be a child looking up at an adult. He was a good two feet taller than her, and she was above average height for a woman. It gave him looming presence in the hall, he dwarfed her bicycle; its handlebars barely came up to his waist. His iridescent blue fur rippled as he moved his arms, betraying the powerful musculature underneath, he could easily have ripped her head off with a single gesture. He stood firmly on his haunches as if standing on hind legs was his normal gait; not something she had assumed with Le’Roy, who had seemed unsteady on two legs. He wore no clothing other than a heavily studded collar, from which hung a long, gold coloured chain, which snaked down his front, partially hidden in his long fur. She had seen similar things on old and terrible photographs or illustrations of captive bears, the sort humans had used to chain them and bend them to their will. Unimaginable that a bear this large and powerful could be controlled in such a way; the collar and chain were indeed quite an oddity. He said, “You could say coming anyway was the action of a born optimist.”

“Could you?”

“Oh yes, Lady.” She struggled for a second to place his accent, it was posh certainly, but the way he called her lady was deferential, but otherwise there seemed to be some regional cadence, but it was from nowhere she could place. She gave up, filing the sound in her memory for another time. He continued, “Surely, I hope at least, that you never thought we meant you any real harm?”

“He,” she gestured with the mop at the basket, where Le’Roy slept, and from which emanated the sound of snoring, “Promised me he’d make sure I was safe. Then you, you threatened to kill me, and there were those things out there too.”

“Furies.”

“What?”

“Furies,” he repeated. “They were Furies. We wouldn’t have let them harm you.” He carried on, “But you believed him when he said he’d keep you safe, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Are you saying he’s a liar?”

“The Green Boar is lots of things, but he is certainly not a liar. Or, at least he tries very hard not to be.”

“But he lied to me...”

“Have you been hurt?”

“I have been scared. I am scared.”

“We are very sorry about that, very sorry indeed. We wish it hadn’t been so.” The bear looked properly contrite, but Leanne, having been very scared and being really quite scared still, was now very cross too, the mop head shook several times as she cried out: “So why did you threaten me if you didn’t mean to scare me?”

“You had to fulfil your quest.” Replied the bear.

“My quest!”

“Yes, Lady. Young warriors go on quests to prove that they are able...”

“I know what a quest is.” She interrupted him. “I’m not a warrior. I’m a courier! He told me I was a courier.”

“I’m so sorry for your distress, lady. I thought he had explained, and he told me to make sure that you were good enough. Please believe me that I am sorry.” The bear sounded truly apologetic, so she pressed home the advantage.

“Good enough for what?”

“Good enough to help Le’Roy. He has a hard set of tasks ahead. We had to make sure that you were strong enough to help him.”

“So, this was all a test? Pretending to try to kill me. And what about all those things out there, the sparks?

He nodded again in an approving, teacher-like manner, “Yes, a test, which you passed. Although your choice of weapon has been a touch misguided.”

“What? Oh.” She looked down at the mop, “This?” He nodded.

Defensively, she said, “What was I supposed to do? Throw the ironing board at you?”

“You should have picked up Le’Roy’s alter form and thrown it at me. Sudden movement will always wake him.”

“But, he was injured!”

“He heals quickly.” Said the bear dismissively, waving his paw airily. “He is fine.”

“He’s okay?”

“Yes, yes. You can wake him now if you want.”

“Really?” This was good news, but getting to the mask would mean advancing on the bear, who still stood near the bike, but he seemed to understand this and backed off all the way to the threshold of the door behind him, leaving the way clear for her to come forward, which she did.

Le’Roy’s mask face was snoring properly, the lips puttering together as his breath came out. Which was peculiar, for there were no body or lungs to feed breath to his mouth, if indeed there was a mouth at all, but she could feel the draft of his breath, and it smelt of rotting apples. Gingerly, she reached one hand into the basket and carefully picked it up. She had been going to throw it directly at the bear, but just before she did, she changed her mind. If she threw it she’d be facing two huge magical creatures, and, since actions without questions had been what got her here, she decided that this one time it might be wiser to find out a little more first. Additionally, although the bear had only minutes ago been mortally threatening, now he was more forthcoming with information than the boar had ever been. She was in the mood for facts, and now he seemed sorry she thought she could probably get him to answer more of burning questions.

It occurred to her to be astonished at her own presence of mind; that she was even able to think this through, that although she was admittedly scared, and really quite cross, she was also calm. Her heart wasn’t beating abnormally fast anymore and her hands no longer shook. Why was she not a quivering wreck?

It was only when the bear quietly said, “Because you’re special.” that she realised she had spoken aloud.

Le’Roy’s mask in her hand, close up, was the texture of finely polished mahogany furniture, the workmanship marvellously delicate, but too realistically done to be real. It had the reassuring coolness and heaviness of wood, and it didn’t give under her fingers like skin, even though his mouth continued to snore in its frankly disturbing manner. “That’s what he said.” She told the bear. “He said it was rare for people to be able to see and hear you.”

“Yes, it is, but it’s more than that.”

“How? I mean, I know that. I am standing here looking at you. I mean, you’re magical,” He started to speak and wave his paws around, but she carried on, “No. You are, from my point of view. I mean, I don’t come across breathing masks every day. But does that mean I’m magical too? I don’t feel it. I’ve never been the superstitious type; I don’t even read my horoscope.”

“It’s not like that.” The bear said. “But please tell, what is a horror-scope? It sounds awful. What does it do?”

“Horoscope, not horror-scope. You don’t know what a horoscope is?”

“I have not been so honoured with the knowledge of such a thing.”

“Well, it’s like fortune telling from the stars, only... it’s complete rubbish. Well, really, whatever, it doesn’t matter.

“But it does! It does to us. We know nothing about your world.” The bear became agitated, or maybe just excited, he leant forward in the doorway, his snout twitching, his fur rippling in the light from the wall sconces. “When you say you think we are magical, you have it all wrong. To us, you are the magical ones. We know nothing about your world or your horoscopes, whatever they are, they sound so exciting to me. But that is why you are so important. Finally, someone who can see us and talk to us again. There are so many exciting things! You humans make so much and change so frequently; we cannot keep up. Lady, you just have no idea how important you are.”

“But...” A thousand questions burst into her head at once. She didn’t know which to pick first, so she plumped for the oddest. “Why did you want to know if I was an optimist?”

“Ha! The best question of all.”

“What? Why is that the best question? I don’t understand. If you needed me to help you so much, why threaten me? I mean, it wouldn’t be the first technique I’d think of.”

“Well, there you go. This is just the first of many things you can teach us. Well, it seems we were wrong. You see, we agreed, the boar and I, that if he brought you here then I would endeavour to find out if you were an optimist.”

“But, why an optimist?” Said Leanne, completely mystified.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He peered at her and registered her confusion. “Ah. Maybe not. I forget we are so different. But, after all, it is something that came from your world, so perhaps I can... Please lady, would you allow me to fetch it and show you?”

“Er, yeah.” She said. Just as Le’Roy did, he had a very formal way of speaking, almost archaic. Yes, ‘archaic’ was a good word for it; beyond old fashioned, “So what from my world is all about optimism?”

“Optimistic, lady, is the most important thing to be, and I don’t hesitate to propose to you that it is the same for both our worlds. Ah, but I need to get the special parchment. It is your type of parchment, not ours. All nice and shiny. You will like it I think. Please will you bear with me a moment, lady, while I fetch it for us? I have it in the library. I shall be straight back.” He trilled, then paused, as if waiting for her permission, so she bobbed her head in a nod, and it seemed to be what he expected, because he did a little bow in return, then disappeared through the doorway. Only straight away he popped his head back round the doorframe, and as a discombobulated head, said, quite entreatingly, “You won’t go while I’m away will you?”

“I can go?”

“Oh yes. You can now. The door is ready now.”

“The door?” What did he mean, how could a door be ready now, and not then?

“Yes. The door.” He pointed at the door through which she had come and through which she had tried to leave and failed, on which she could have sworn there was nothing like a handle or a knob, there was now, right in the middle, a large, round, see-your-face-in-it shiny brass doorknob, just like the one outside which she had pushed to get in.

“That wasn’t there before!” She exclaimed in astonishment.

“But it wasn’t ready. Doors won’t open if they are not ready.”

“How can a door not be ready? That’s preposterous.”

“I don’t know, at least not entirely. It’s just the way it is. It is there when we want it, usually, which isn’t often if you are me.” He looked a bit downcast. “I don’t go out much.” Then he brightened, “But Le’Roy uses it all the time.”

“But, why? I don’t understand. Doors... are just doors, they don’t... they aren’t just doors sometimes and not at other times.”

“But why not? Doors always know when they need to be used, do they not? And when they aren’t needed, well, it’s a bit selfish to expect them to hang around waiting for you to want them on a whim.” He seemed to be astonished. “So doors are not like this in your world?”

“No. They just wait there.” She could hear her voice turn thin and strangled with disbelief, “And what do doors do when they aren’t being used?”

“I don’t know. Really, you do ask interesting questions. I’ve never thought about it before.” Replied the bear.

“So I could just push on it now, and I’d be able to go?”

“Oh yes, but don’t you want to see the parchment about the optimistic? It’s ever so wise.”

“You wouldn’t stop me?”

“What? If you wanted to go home? Oh no! You are Leanne of the Green Boar, you are free to come and go as you please. I would never try to prevent you. In fact, I can’t.” He seemed quite horrified at the idea.

The temptation to grab the bike and leave right then almost overwhelmed her, but now he was no longer threatening to shoot her the bear had turned earnest and exaggeratedly polite, and somehow she felt rude for wanting to leave. So she looked to excuse herself more politely instead, and said firmly, “I have to get some sleep; I have to work tomorrow and I still have to ride home. I need to go, I’m sorry.”

To prove her intentions, she carefully posted Le’Roy’s mask through the banister and laid him gently on the stairs, remembering what the bear said about sudden movement waking him up; she didn’t want  him here now, it would only make it harder to get away. Fortunately, he carried on snoring, oblivious to his friend the bear, who clasped his snout in sudden distress. “It’s my fault isn’t it?” He wailed through his claws. “I should not have done it so. Oh, I shouldn’t have. Only I didn’t know how else to do it! Oh, please can you forgive me. This is terrible. I’ve ruined everything.”

“Erm. It’s work, you know...” She pushed open the door, which now gave way easily under her hand. Outside the street was empty, not much time had passed, it was night still; street lamps shed ample light onto the road at the back of the brewery and a faint breeze failed to stir fallen leaves and rubbish in the gutter. Nothing unusual was apparent; it was as if Le’Roy’s fight with the Furies had never happened.

Half way out with her cycle, trying to ignore the bear’s anguished wailing, she thought; don’t feel bad about leaving, it’s you who has been put upon and subjected to this torment, and whatever those Furies were. Leanne, just go, now, before it’s too late, it doesn’t matter that you are special and they need you, afterall, what have they to do with you? It’s plainly a madhouse and you don’t need this melodrama in your life, and never mind the money; you can always find a weekend job if you have to. But the bear wailed despairingly, “But, if you go, you won’t come back. I know you won’t.”

She paused, feeling her better side get the better of her. He was standing in the doorframe, backlit he looked a dreadful hulk, but he was sniffling, “It’s all gone wrong, and it’s all my fault.” He entreated her, “Please won’t you stay, lady? We didn’t mean to scare you. It would be such a shame if you left now. After all this time... we waited so long. We need you so much. Oh, it was all going to be so good.”

She said, hesitantly, “Please, don’t be upset. Well... I could come back... perhaps.” Coming back, if she was honest, filled her with dread, but at the same time, it did not seem impossible; the needing of her; that was important, and the fact that it was magical creatures doing the needing, that was important too, even if they were a bit confused, and didn’t see themselves as magical. That they thought she was the magical one, well, that was just another part of the mystery. There was also, of course, the money. “Do I, erm, still get paid?”

“Oh yes, Lady. Yes of course.” He had brightened up instantly, “Yes, that would be marvellous. You must come back. Yes, yes, most marvellous, I think he will be happy too...” He was talking about Le’Roy, she thought. Would the boar would wake naturally, or just keep snoring until someone threw him at something?

She cut him off: “I’m not promising anything, but you must promise me, if do come back, there will be no more of that silly stuff with the gun.”

“Oh, I do, I do. I promise.” Declared the bear, “And I am so sorry about the silly gun, so very sorry indeed. I will never do it again. I promise. Because you must come back, it is so important.”

“And, if I do, then it will all be much more civilised, and friendly, and none of that Fury stuff either. Do you promise me?” She had taken up the tone of a teacher, somehow it seemed appropriate; he had turned from wise and venerable to childlike and anxious the moment he realised she was going to leave, it felt like she was calming a five year old.

“I do, Lady, I promise; friends it is. And no more furious Furies. The furies are very nice when they aren’t furious, Lady. You mustn’t think they are bad, Lady.”

“No... Well then, okay, I won’t think they are.” Hurriedly she added, because she didn’t think he had answered properly first time, “And I shall still be expecting payment.”

“Yes, yes.” He waved his paw airily, “It goes without saying; whatever Le’Roy agreed.” Then he clasped his paws and, with exaggerated politeness, asked, “When will you be so kind as to delight us with your presence again, delightful Lady?”

Leanne said, thinking hard about how soon she thought she would be recovered from this night, “Well, I think I can make it on Saturday. And you should call me Leanne.”

“Then Saturday it shall be, Lady Leanne.” Shyly, he then said, “And my name is Cl’mentine; Cl’mentine of the Blue Bear.”

“Bli... Right, Cl’mentine. Right. Okay then.” Leanne spluttered. Did this mean the bear was female? She supposed it was difficult to tell he and she bears apart under all that fur, even in her world. She supposed, really, that it didn't matter, but, was she wrong about Le’Roy’s gender too? She thought not. No, she concluded, he had seemed quite male.
“Is there some problem?” Said Cl’mentine.

“No, no, not at all.” Maybe, she thought, it might be best if I pretend some kind of authority, after all, I am going to be teaching them everything because it is obvious they know nothing. She straightened the bike, got on it, and said, with a confidence that was entirely acted, “I shall see you on Saturday, so have the parchment ready for my inspection then. Ten o’clock, on the dot. Goodbye!” With that, she pressed her foot down, and within seconds, she was pedalling around the corner, fast leaving the brewery and its very odd inhabitants behind her.

When she got back home, she collapsed into her bed and slept soundly until morning, when the cat Pig woke her and demanded breakfast via the expedient means of sitting on her head and biting her ear until she got up and fed him. But, on leaving for work, still feeling very tired from the night’s adventure, but on time and determined to see the day through, she was dismayed to find waiting on her doormat, yet again, Le’Roy’s mask, this time contained in an ordinary yellow plastic bucket. It was no longer snoring but frozen hard, and into what an expression, it impossible to tell if it was a scream or a smile...

... to be continued.