2 December 2022

Something about the story of the pied piper of Hamelin has always fascinated me. I’m not sure what it is. There was a D&D solo session I had around 6 years ago that played into it, but even before that, it’s just teased at the corners of my brain. I really noticed it after I wrote the scene with Duke Hareln during Nanowrimo; my first thought for his name was Hameln, and I was pondering on why that is.

Then I got to thinking about the story, and how fae-like the pied piper is. From there I thought about deals and trades and fairness in the way it applies to the fae, and I found one possible individual that the pied piper might have had no hold over. And that’s where we get our story.

Nella squeezed Barton in her arms and boldly stepped out onto the street. It was a new day, and she knew that it was this day. Today was the day she’d make a real friend. No offense to Barton.

First, though she had to work. If you didn’t work, you didn’t eat, and Nella needed to eat. She started at Baker Malcolm’s. Before she even made it in the door, though, Malcolm stopped her. “Eh-eh, little Nell. No rats.”

Nella pinched her eyebrows together and squeezed Barton tighter, enough that he squeaked and squirmed in protest. “Barton’s not like other rats. He’s my friend.”

“Still, no. He’ll nibble the bread, and then what have I to sell, eh?” He plucked a roll out of a basket and tossed it to her. “You still have not had a breakfast yet, no? Here.”

“Thanks.” Nella caught it and took a big bite. She peered past Malcolm into his kitchen, where a couple of rats snuck onto the counter. “I though rats weren’t allowed in the bakery?”

Malcolm looked back, then cursed loudly and began waving a knife around. Nella decided he’d be busy for a while, so she went to see if anyone else had jobs for her to do.

Next she visited Arnauld and Janine, the candlemakers. Then Robert the butcher and Renee the tailor. None of them had work for her, either. While she walked around town she spotted twelve different rats scurrying about. That was a lot more than normal. Maybe Barton told all his friends and family what a nice town it was here?

While she walked over to Margaret the weaver woman’s shop, she over heard Old Ethel chatting with her friend, Agatha. “There she goes again, that Nella, with her blighted rat. Stinks up the place something awful. Hasn’t she learned there are such things as baths?”

“Now, now. It’s not her fault, is it? And it could be worse. At least she’s the good, honest sort, not some sneak thief or pickpocket.”

Nella frowned. She lifted an arm and sniffed; she didn’t smell anything. And she took a bath just four days ago. Did she really stink?

In the end, though, she shrugged and forgot about it. Margaret, it turned out, did need some help, so Nella helped her weave baskets in the back room. Margaret was nice enough to treat her to lunch, and Nella thanked her before she ran out to go play with the other kids.

Or, well, that was what Nella had hoped for.

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