A hooded man closed the entrance door behind him. The noise died down, and as is to be expected at such events, everyone looked at him at the same time, some with a curious, some with flat, while others with a blurry or disapproving look. They didn't expect anyone else. Those who had not arrived by now did not come later, and no honest traveler came at this late hour of the evening, when even the sun has already settled for some time.
The newcomer walked slowly, wearily, towards the counter. Watchful eyes followed his steps. His soaked, tattered clothes left behind water, mud and a few twigs on the floor. One or two guests with more angular, stricter faces shook their heads on their column-like muscular necks with a scolding frown , but as the room gradually filled with the familiar, incessant chatter, their eyes returned to their table. By the time the dripping figure had reached the counter and dropped his bag at the foot of a chair, even the laughter had returned, and the fresh air that had flown in was absorbed without trace by the slowly billowing, heated body smell.
The man threw back his hood. As the bartender's eyebrows ran up on his almost bald head, his bearded face broke into a broad smile.
- Mest! What a pleasant surprise! I haven't seen you for ages!
- The pleasure is mine, old Hobb. I apologize for bringing half the forest with me - he glanced towards the door.
- Never mind that, there's been worse on the floor tonight, and there will be if the guests don't find their way to the backyard. But they won't have a chance to try it, because I'm sending people home to drink there or at each other's houses. Today is a big day, so we must celebrate! We'll have the place to ourselves.
Hobb was just about to start to throw his guests out into the rainy night, when a hand rose in his way telling him to reconsider his rash enthusiasm.
- If you do so, I'll go as well. Would you make a fuss, and then sip in deaf silence? Wouldst thou, in thy old age, listen to the crickets instead of the music? I myself also enjoy my drink more with some hustle and bustle, it tastes better that way.
- If that's the way you want it, that's the way it'll be, my friend. But come on now... we've just greeted each other and you're already calling me an oldster two times? I'm not an old man, I'm just getting more and more manly - he laughed cheerfully - It's good to see you again!
They clasped palms and shook hands firmly over the bar. Consequently a thick cloud of dust rose from Mest's arm and aimed straight at the barman's face. Hobb coughed as he was trying to get rid of the floating soil. When the brownish cloud had somewhat cleared, he took a rag from his apron's pocket and began to wipe the cups again, which had been clean a moment before. Mest unbuckled his sword, propped it against the bottom of the counter, and slowly, as if rust had got into his knees, lowered himself onto a chair. His friend took a good look at him.
- You, my friend, have not changed at all since I saw you last, and that was some years ago... Except, of course, that you're getting more and more ragged and dirty - he leaned closer - What's your secret?
- I spend a lot of time wallowing in the mud.
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