sometimes the cards ain't worth a dime

Barrett · 09-06-2011, 04:36 AM

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Just something quick to officially chronicle his successes in Freetown. >P

Barrett Poer de Aika XIII

The journey home went (and felt) a lot faster than the lonely trek down to Freetown for a handful of reasons. For starters, he now had company. Not that his new companion was particularly communicative--the stout equine only snorted and whinnied on occasion, speaking in tongues largely incomprehensible to his new canine "owner." Nevertheless, the Fjord horse possessed an identifiable sense of humour and intelligence, and Barry enjoyed yammering casually at the beast of burden... even if the wolf's words were mostly gobbledygook to the half-ton creature. Jøren, as he was called, also played a direct role in expediting their progress.

Already he was pulling his weight. He cost the two-year old nearly everything he had at the time--several days worth of intense labour, all of the mushrooms and poppy seeds he had brought along, and a full three quarters of the marijuana he'd left with--but Barrett was convinced he was the one to have made out in the end, not the shifty trader. And, perhaps, if the one-eyed 'Slash' had obtained the horse through honest means, he might not have let the determined youth walk off with the impressive overseas import so easily. But Jøren was a "hot" item at the time, stolen from a hapless gypsy immigrant who worked some stables on the quiet end of town in exchange for room and board. (Needless to say, she was probably dismissed after Jøren and two other animals disappeared under her watch.) Fortunately, Barry was unfamiliar with all of this--in every sense of the word, the horse was his. Well--sort of.

The youngster hadn't completely come to terms with the notion of owning another sentient being. It seemed strange to him. Jøren was more a partner, less a tool or possession. Not once did the loner attempt to mount the animal, though the dun bay--raised domesticated in its native Norway--would surely have tolerated it. Instead, Barry lead the way back to Nova Scotia on all fours, Jøren trailing behind him. That was not to say the horse wasn't put to use. He carried the other few odds and ends Barrett had picked up: a crudely written (yet coveted) recipe and instruction booklet detailing the production of vodka, from growing wheat and potatoes through the distillation process; a scythe, for harvesting the wheat; a bundle of five thermometers, to monitor distillation; beakers and a balance, to measure quantities of ingredients precisely; a pressure cooker; and at last, a mortar and pestle to hold him over until he could rig up some sort of primitive, horse driven mill. This first trader, Julia, had actually been the one to suggest purchasing a draught animal.

It was fortunate he did. Finding all of these items in Halifax on his own would be time consuming and tedious. And without Jøren, it would have taken forever to make it back home with everything in tow. The Poer even took the liberty of laying over in Woodstock, where he showed off his new stuff to an appreciative Anselm. It was good to rest and visit his family--the O'Clavins even supplied him with a few pans and buckets to get started, on the promise he "visit 'gain sometime, 'n bring som'a th' vudka wit'ya" (his mother's words)--but he only stayed two nights. He was eager to get home. And as the city opened up before him, "home" was exactly what it felt like.

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