The chambermaid clucked an amused chuckle, then motioned for her charge to follow her back down the hallway, taking an entirely different path this time. Respectfully, Cedar closed the door to "his quarters" behind him, as they set off.
"The laundry is in the servant's quarter." said the maid matter-of-factly. "Through the Eastern service hall, then down the stair. There's a seep-spring fed from the garden above that feeds the laundry, so there's always a trickle of water. Useful in the winter, when everything's froze over."
He nodded in appreciation-- it was indeed a clever idea, though he himself never had need to do laundry in the winter months, his dad did, and he had been regaled numerous times about how "Complete and total horseshit" it was to "Haul buckets of freezing cold water through the snow" just to "get your underwear clean." (or to have to boil that much water, and or, melt that much snow or ice, to do it with.) Sadly, a seep spring underneath the house would be "wholly incompatible" with having a den under there. --A most unfortunate fact of ursine existence.
Going through one of the smaller doors, that was built and designed in such a way as to not draw attention to its presence (as he had come to learn ALL of the service access ways were), the grand and high ceilings of the hallways suddenly became cramped, and almost squalid in comparison. The contrast was shocking; Guests were never meant to go through here.
After a few attempts at staying upright and crouching to avoid dragging his head on the ceiling, he apologized to the woman leading him, then resorted to walking on all fours, much like he had been forced to do in the access ramp in the cellars at Fanghorn keep just hours prior.
"probably for the best" the woman quipped. "The stairwell is lower yet than the halls. You'd hit your head for sure, master Cedar. This way."
This was not his first time in the service corridors of the castle, but every time he had been through one, it had been a different place each time. This time was no exception, and he found he could not keep track of the twisted maze of corridors and stairs. Without the maid leading him, he could get lost for days in this place.
In time, the hall crossed two others, then down a rampway, then went past a set of unappealing stone steps next to a large, square wooden door.
"That is the stair to the laundry." the woman said, indicating the entryway. Cedar sniffed at the large square hatch, trying to identify its purpose. It had.. a large number of human smells all over it.. More than easily discernible. The woman seemed a bit cross at his hesitation, before grasping that he was confused by the laundry chute. "--That is for dropping soiled linens to the laundry." she said. "Unless you want a hard stop at the bottom, I suggest you not be too curious about it, Master Cedar. Please follow me."
As the pair descended the very narrow stairwell, the ceiling was indeed, very short. He could NEVER have stood upright when using it, and in honesty, had a fair bit of difficulty descending it. It was steep, and narrow, and if he was even just a bit wider, he may well have become lodged between the doorframe. This stair was meant for humans, and no added expense had been taken in its construction. The stone steps had worn divots in them from what was surely many many years of hard service. People had been using this stairwell for a VERY long time. A noticeable, and continuous swath of each wall was worn smooth where hands had touched it for support over its lifetime, further speaking of its ancient-ness. At the bottom, was yet another narrow constriction where the stone masonry let out into the laundry below.
"Good Evening Agnes." the maid called somewhat loudly. There was a cacophony of loud women's voices, the sounds of wet sloshing, repeated loud slaps, and an oppressive reek of ammonia in the laundry. Over the din, a loud and deep woman's voice boomed orders.
"Mind the silks Jamie, If you scrub them you'll ruin them-- Just let it sit--- DO NOT USE HOT WATER on that Candice-- you'll set the stain-- -- Oh-- Hello Melody, what brings you down to our little pit of despair?"
'Melody' was just about to introduce her 'guest', who had followed her down into the lamplit and humid laundry room, and was squeezing through the tight constriction of the doorway when a woman bumped into him carrying a load of soiled undershirts and frocks, then shrieked profoundly when she noticed 'what' she had run into.
"Th.. THERE'S A BEAR IN THE LAUNDRY!" she cried in a shrill, high pitched wail, dropping her burdens, then skidding backward away from the stairwell on her butt in dismay.
"Quickly Melody, Over here behind me-- I'll deal with it!" bellowed the woman who he assumed was 'Agnes'-- a burly, almost manish looking boulder of a woman who rippled with muscled arms and calves, with a wide face and jaw dressed in servant's livery hiked up around the knees and pulled back around the shoulders. Her apron and dress were saturated with moisture, and she reeked of ammonia. She had a rather imposing looking wooden paddle in her hands that she picked up without hesitation as she commenced closing in on the stair. Trapped in the doorway as he was, there would be no way to evade the woman's assault, if she followed through with her obvious plans to use the laundry bat on him.
"Agnes, STOP!" the maid pleaded, throwing herself in the way of the imposing woman. "This is a GUEST."
The activity of the laundry had come to a screeching halt with his arrival, and he felt a multitude of stares beating down on him. He contemplated if it was prudent to try backing up and withdrawing up the steep narrow stair behind him (as there was certainly NOT enough room to turn around, and he was still stuck halfway through the narrow 'door'.)
"THAT'S a GUEST?!" came the incredulous voice of an unnamed woman among the number, someplace out of Cedar's line of sight.
"So, Let me get this straight Melody-- You not only bring a 'GUEST' into the laundry, but a BEAR at that? What ARE you thinking?!" came another.
"... Perhaps dis be a bad idear..." he drawled mostly to himself, while struggling to determine what the proper strategy for this situation was. ".. I... I thinks I shud be goin'..."
"Oh my GOD! IT CAN TALK!"
---"I had heard rumors..."
...".. Is it really true they had a talking bear up there three days ago?"
"IMPOSSIBLE."
"SILENCE" bellowed Agnes, stifling the furtive and naked gossip. "Explain yourself, Melody. Make it good."
"This is Master Cedar." she said coolly and forcefully, still blocking further movement toward the stair behind her. "He is one of the 'people' that were involved in 'that matter we are not to discuss.'"
"Which one Melody, we haven't got all night." said Agnes crossly, now folding her huge and muscled arms over her square and blocky frame. Cedar made note that there must be a fair number of 'things not to discuss' in this place; a concept that gave him worried pause. What manner of secrets and plots were hatched in this huge house?
"The one involving the young master, of course, or did your slip and hit your head on the scalding pot again since two days ago? SURELY you heard---"
The imposing woman frowned and tightened her grip about her bustline menacingly, clenching her jaw as color stained her square cheekbones.
"--And why is he here?" she demanded.
"--He needs a bath--" she said flatly "--and his clothes washed." She held out his soiled robe like it was something that should have been clearly self-evident. "He says he is every bit as dirty as that-- and I have no reason to question him on it-- UNLESS OF COURSE, you WANT to do a Grand Laundry on the Huntsman's green-room on the Eastern wing?"
("it wears clothes?")
----("They're keeping it indoors?")
-("I for once actually feel sorry for the chamber-girls.")
"SHUSH."
Agnes leaned to the side, then uncrossed her arms to lean on the laundry bat to look around Melody, who was still blocking the ingress to the laundry, before leaning forward and taking the horribly soiled garment, and examining it, making a disgusted face, then addressing cedar directly.
"What were you doing to get this dirty, 'Master Cedar?'-- Nevermind-- Get in here, let's have a look at you."
He hesitated a moment, then very carefully twisted to one side, then the other to get his bottom through the narrow constriction, before turning, leaning on the stonework of the door, and standing upright. The laundry at least, had a high ceiling to control the dampness. After a moment, he turned, and carefully walked into the room and toward the large and imposing woman with more than a fair share of trepidation, taking in the previously obscured visages of more than a dozen similarly muscular women wielding large laundry bats. All eyes in the room were on him, and he felt more naked than ever. He and the woman exchanged eye contact for several seconds, her face an inscrutable mask of weighted calculation. Abruptly, she smirked, chuckled, then addressed one of her nearby staff.
"Back to work girls-- The washing wont wash itself!" She turned back to Cedar. "And you-- I assume you, at least CAN?"
"Y.. Yeah, I can." he stammered nervously, still eyeing about the room as the scary women resumed their work, beating on laundry, and gossiping a bit more furtively.
"GOOD! You-- Get him some soap and take him to the Rinse. If the head-maid finds out about this, it'll be all our heads. Be quick about it. Melody, we need to talk."
One of the laundresses dropped her bat against the wall, grabbed up a large yellow bar of lye soap, then pointed in the direction that must lead to 'the rinse.' She had a worried expression as though she was very unsure of this sudden change in her occupation, and did not seem at all eager to lead him deeper into the laundry. Others kept him fixed in their gaze, as they continued their dipping, squeezing, beating and scrubbing. He followed her through the large room to a place where the water collected and then fed out of the laundry through a large grate in the floor. A steady stream of water trickled over the side of a large cistern to join the flow. Several more laundresses were there, dunking clothes into the water then wringing them out again. "You three, out-- Agnes said. You- In." She handed him the block of soap, and pointed toward the cistern. The far wall was old and discolored, with a steady trickle of water running down it, and into the cistern, keeping it constantly fed, and flowing. The laundry women collected their burdens with confused looks, alternating between his 'guide', himself, and their business, as they hurriedly collected the washing they were rinsing out, then sploshing out of the cistern. At no time did the feeling of being studiously watched ever stop. At least 'the rinse' was in a tucked away portion of the laundry near the back, but he had a clear view of the rest of the laundry from there, and the converse was equally true.
He accepted the soap, then nodded understanding to the woman, before entering the cistern, sitting down in the water to get himself wet all over, then starting the process of lathering himself up to get clean. He was not really keen the ever-present sensation of being watched, however. She heaved a sigh of relief, then resumed her own duties among the throngs of women, quickly being lost in the jumble.
"...Better jus git dis over wit..." he muttered to himself before standing, leaning against the wall, and lathering himself up from head to foot. The suds were a profound brown color from the dried dirt stuck to his skin. It would take several washings to get actually clean. He contemplated if it would have been wiser to wait for "his basin" in the privacy of that overly large room, but the thought of getting this dirt on the plush cream carpeting in there, told him it would not have been appropriate to have done.
At the other end of the laundry, Agnes and Melody were deep in their discussion of the interruption to the laundry, and the entirely inappropriate nature of taking a guest into the servants quarter.
"--Olivia and Hudson are at logger-heads, Agnes. Hudson wants to drag in an old winepress to use as a bathtub, given the.. Proportions.. of our guest, and the old biddy will have nothing of the sort. You should have SEEN her face when the butler told her where he was going to be staying. He'd have been waiting a week, at least, to have his bath. Can you imagine what a week of his sleeping on the duvet in his current state would have done? -- Something HAD to be done Agnes."
"Bringing a guest, no matter how unusual, into the laundry is forbidden, Melody. We have ENOUGH problems trying to deflect certain.. Accusations.. about me and my staff down here from those harpies upstairs already, we do NOT need this."
She looked up and toward the rinse. The bearman was leaned against the wall, leaning down in a rhythmic cycle of washing and scrubbing on himself. The water and soap had flattened his fur, revealing that he was not at all what one would expect from a bear underneath, but also not exactly man-shaped either. He was some eye-wrenching admixture of the two, with a long torso and chest, combined with short, thickly muscled and oddly human-like arms and legs,heavy wide shoulders coming to a thick knot in his back, and a powerful looking wide bottom featuring a prominent nub of a tail, among other anatomical features that, minus the concealing fluff of the fur, were now prominently on display. Her cheeks colored indignantly. They would be gossiping about this for WEEKS. The implications of such talk were scandalous. He practically rippled while washing himself.
"STOP GAWKING." she barked. "IF YOU'VE SEEN ONE, YOU'VE SEEN THEM ALL." Dirty giggles and snickers met her stern directive, and she sighed. This was insufferable. Silver linings-- Yes, at least he did not need any help getting cleaned. At least that insult to the dignity of she and her staff had been avoided.
"I'm sorry Agnes, I really am." pleaded Melody. The look of a woman caught between a rock and a hard place plastered her otherwise prim, and proper face. "I wouldn't have brought him down here if I felt there was really an alternative. What would you have me do? Take him to the fountain outside? Have him dirty up a months worth of clean linens, just because Olivia cant pull her head out of her own ass? You tell ME what I should have done different, Agnes. You and I both know that sometimes, things just need to get done."
The huge woman leaned against her washing bat with one arm, then cradled her head with the other. She suddenly felt very tired. As much as she hated to admit it, Melody was 100% right. She looked back down toward the rinse. The bearman had dunked himself back into the cistern, and had started lathering a second time. She shivered; this was incredulous. Might as well have brought a burly, naked man down here. How many times was he going to wash? Silver linings-- At least he was being thorough. Yes. There was that. There would not be a sudden increase in laundry tasks with heavily soiled sheets or carpets.
Exasperated, she returned to her duty, directing the laundry's activities.
--
It took three passes with the soap to finally get properly clean lather. Cedar had never felt more naked in his life, and was very eager to get the hell out of here, as soon as possible. The feeling of eyes all over him was relentless. Taking a final plunge into the now dingy brown cistern water, he rinsed the last charge of soap from himself, stood back up a final time, leaned against the wall then shook the water free, relieved to feel his fur poof back out again. He looked down at the edge of the cistern, and noted that it had a metal flood gate built into it. Politely, he raised the gate, and the dirty water rushed out, then down the gullet of the iron grating, before timidly toddling back up to where Melody and Agnes were standing.
"About time." scoffed the heavyset woman. "Melody, get him upstairs, quickly, before anyone else sees. You there-- go rinse out the cistern, we're behind as it is."
He gave his chaperone a wide eyed and plaintive expression of unease. He was VERY eager to be out of here.
"This way Master Cedar." she said stiffly. "We apologize for the circumstances, and hope you wont hold it against us."
He shivered, but did his best anyway to soothe her clearly shot nerves. "Dun wurry 'bout it. A' leas' I's clean naow. At all I really wan'ed. ---Af'er you, ma'am." and with that, the two disappeared back out of the laundry, and back up the stairs.
"Did you have a look at that!?" said one of the washer-women incredulously after they had left earshot. "Would you have ever guessed that was under there?"
"I'm QUITE SURE that was not a BEAR at all!"
"HUSH!" bellowed Agnes, her head starting to throb. This was a miserable end to a long day indeed.
"He was positively FILTHY!" came a voice from the far end of the laundry. "There's dirt stuck to the floor!"
"Just like YOUR husband, Melissa-- Hair and all!"
"SHUT YOUR FACE, TIFFANY, What are you doing looking at my husband anyway!?"
"I SAID SHUT IT!" bellowed Agnes. Oh gods, the rumors were going to be thick as fleas. By noon tomorrow, every servant in the building would know what that poor bear keeps in his trousers.
--
Melody led Cedar back up the stairs and back the way they came, completely uneventfully, and parted ways as soon as he was safely obscured within the excessively ornate room.
"Your clothing will be brought up as soon as it is cleaned and pressed, Master Cedar. Until then, please remain here, and enjoy yourself, and enjoy our hospitality this evening." she said, bobbing a curtsy before departing. That had been some time ago. A gentle ticking sound emanated from a strange wood and metal box with numbers and two completely unusual metal blades at bizarre angles on it. He had no idea what its purpose was. It was just one of many such oddities in the room; It was a completely alien environment, and he found it next to impossible to relax. He felt trapped inside it. This was a madhouse.
His fur was still a bit damp, and he was still unsure of how to use the bed. He walked to the large window and looked out into the darkness. Someplace out there was his cozy hovel, with its bedstraw mattress, and cozy bed of leaves concealed below. Someplace out there was the familiar world he knew, with wolves, owls, and rabbits in it. He'd have paid handsomely to be there instead of here. Exhaustion wracked his head, and he yawned.
He felt he'd had his fill of human company for one day.
He knew about what oil lamps were, at least, and he turned the wick down, raised the mantle, and puffed it out. Curls of smoke drifted up where the yellow flame had once been.
In desperation, he climbed into the bed, and tried to get comfortable.
"The laundry is in the servant's quarter." said the maid matter-of-factly. "Through the Eastern service hall, then down the stair. There's a seep-spring fed from the garden above that feeds the laundry, so there's always a trickle of water. Useful in the winter, when everything's froze over."
He nodded in appreciation-- it was indeed a clever idea, though he himself never had need to do laundry in the winter months, his dad did, and he had been regaled numerous times about how "Complete and total horseshit" it was to "Haul buckets of freezing cold water through the snow" just to "get your underwear clean." (or to have to boil that much water, and or, melt that much snow or ice, to do it with.) Sadly, a seep spring underneath the house would be "wholly incompatible" with having a den under there. --A most unfortunate fact of ursine existence.
Going through one of the smaller doors, that was built and designed in such a way as to not draw attention to its presence (as he had come to learn ALL of the service access ways were), the grand and high ceilings of the hallways suddenly became cramped, and almost squalid in comparison. The contrast was shocking; Guests were never meant to go through here.
After a few attempts at staying upright and crouching to avoid dragging his head on the ceiling, he apologized to the woman leading him, then resorted to walking on all fours, much like he had been forced to do in the access ramp in the cellars at Fanghorn keep just hours prior.
"probably for the best" the woman quipped. "The stairwell is lower yet than the halls. You'd hit your head for sure, master Cedar. This way."
This was not his first time in the service corridors of the castle, but every time he had been through one, it had been a different place each time. This time was no exception, and he found he could not keep track of the twisted maze of corridors and stairs. Without the maid leading him, he could get lost for days in this place.
In time, the hall crossed two others, then down a rampway, then went past a set of unappealing stone steps next to a large, square wooden door.
"That is the stair to the laundry." the woman said, indicating the entryway. Cedar sniffed at the large square hatch, trying to identify its purpose. It had.. a large number of human smells all over it.. More than easily discernible. The woman seemed a bit cross at his hesitation, before grasping that he was confused by the laundry chute. "--That is for dropping soiled linens to the laundry." she said. "Unless you want a hard stop at the bottom, I suggest you not be too curious about it, Master Cedar. Please follow me."
As the pair descended the very narrow stairwell, the ceiling was indeed, very short. He could NEVER have stood upright when using it, and in honesty, had a fair bit of difficulty descending it. It was steep, and narrow, and if he was even just a bit wider, he may well have become lodged between the doorframe. This stair was meant for humans, and no added expense had been taken in its construction. The stone steps had worn divots in them from what was surely many many years of hard service. People had been using this stairwell for a VERY long time. A noticeable, and continuous swath of each wall was worn smooth where hands had touched it for support over its lifetime, further speaking of its ancient-ness. At the bottom, was yet another narrow constriction where the stone masonry let out into the laundry below.
"Good Evening Agnes." the maid called somewhat loudly. There was a cacophony of loud women's voices, the sounds of wet sloshing, repeated loud slaps, and an oppressive reek of ammonia in the laundry. Over the din, a loud and deep woman's voice boomed orders.
"Mind the silks Jamie, If you scrub them you'll ruin them-- Just let it sit--- DO NOT USE HOT WATER on that Candice-- you'll set the stain-- -- Oh-- Hello Melody, what brings you down to our little pit of despair?"
'Melody' was just about to introduce her 'guest', who had followed her down into the lamplit and humid laundry room, and was squeezing through the tight constriction of the doorway when a woman bumped into him carrying a load of soiled undershirts and frocks, then shrieked profoundly when she noticed 'what' she had run into.
"Th.. THERE'S A BEAR IN THE LAUNDRY!" she cried in a shrill, high pitched wail, dropping her burdens, then skidding backward away from the stairwell on her butt in dismay.
"Quickly Melody, Over here behind me-- I'll deal with it!" bellowed the woman who he assumed was 'Agnes'-- a burly, almost manish looking boulder of a woman who rippled with muscled arms and calves, with a wide face and jaw dressed in servant's livery hiked up around the knees and pulled back around the shoulders. Her apron and dress were saturated with moisture, and she reeked of ammonia. She had a rather imposing looking wooden paddle in her hands that she picked up without hesitation as she commenced closing in on the stair. Trapped in the doorway as he was, there would be no way to evade the woman's assault, if she followed through with her obvious plans to use the laundry bat on him.
"Agnes, STOP!" the maid pleaded, throwing herself in the way of the imposing woman. "This is a GUEST."
The activity of the laundry had come to a screeching halt with his arrival, and he felt a multitude of stares beating down on him. He contemplated if it was prudent to try backing up and withdrawing up the steep narrow stair behind him (as there was certainly NOT enough room to turn around, and he was still stuck halfway through the narrow 'door'.)
"THAT'S a GUEST?!" came the incredulous voice of an unnamed woman among the number, someplace out of Cedar's line of sight.
"So, Let me get this straight Melody-- You not only bring a 'GUEST' into the laundry, but a BEAR at that? What ARE you thinking?!" came another.
"... Perhaps dis be a bad idear..." he drawled mostly to himself, while struggling to determine what the proper strategy for this situation was. ".. I... I thinks I shud be goin'..."
"Oh my GOD! IT CAN TALK!"
---"I had heard rumors..."
...".. Is it really true they had a talking bear up there three days ago?"
"IMPOSSIBLE."
"SILENCE" bellowed Agnes, stifling the furtive and naked gossip. "Explain yourself, Melody. Make it good."
"This is Master Cedar." she said coolly and forcefully, still blocking further movement toward the stair behind her. "He is one of the 'people' that were involved in 'that matter we are not to discuss.'"
"Which one Melody, we haven't got all night." said Agnes crossly, now folding her huge and muscled arms over her square and blocky frame. Cedar made note that there must be a fair number of 'things not to discuss' in this place; a concept that gave him worried pause. What manner of secrets and plots were hatched in this huge house?
"The one involving the young master, of course, or did your slip and hit your head on the scalding pot again since two days ago? SURELY you heard---"
The imposing woman frowned and tightened her grip about her bustline menacingly, clenching her jaw as color stained her square cheekbones.
"--And why is he here?" she demanded.
"--He needs a bath--" she said flatly "--and his clothes washed." She held out his soiled robe like it was something that should have been clearly self-evident. "He says he is every bit as dirty as that-- and I have no reason to question him on it-- UNLESS OF COURSE, you WANT to do a Grand Laundry on the Huntsman's green-room on the Eastern wing?"
("it wears clothes?")
----("They're keeping it indoors?")
-("I for once actually feel sorry for the chamber-girls.")
"SHUSH."
Agnes leaned to the side, then uncrossed her arms to lean on the laundry bat to look around Melody, who was still blocking the ingress to the laundry, before leaning forward and taking the horribly soiled garment, and examining it, making a disgusted face, then addressing cedar directly.
"What were you doing to get this dirty, 'Master Cedar?'-- Nevermind-- Get in here, let's have a look at you."
He hesitated a moment, then very carefully twisted to one side, then the other to get his bottom through the narrow constriction, before turning, leaning on the stonework of the door, and standing upright. The laundry at least, had a high ceiling to control the dampness. After a moment, he turned, and carefully walked into the room and toward the large and imposing woman with more than a fair share of trepidation, taking in the previously obscured visages of more than a dozen similarly muscular women wielding large laundry bats. All eyes in the room were on him, and he felt more naked than ever. He and the woman exchanged eye contact for several seconds, her face an inscrutable mask of weighted calculation. Abruptly, she smirked, chuckled, then addressed one of her nearby staff.
"Back to work girls-- The washing wont wash itself!" She turned back to Cedar. "And you-- I assume you, at least CAN?"
"Y.. Yeah, I can." he stammered nervously, still eyeing about the room as the scary women resumed their work, beating on laundry, and gossiping a bit more furtively.
"GOOD! You-- Get him some soap and take him to the Rinse. If the head-maid finds out about this, it'll be all our heads. Be quick about it. Melody, we need to talk."
One of the laundresses dropped her bat against the wall, grabbed up a large yellow bar of lye soap, then pointed in the direction that must lead to 'the rinse.' She had a worried expression as though she was very unsure of this sudden change in her occupation, and did not seem at all eager to lead him deeper into the laundry. Others kept him fixed in their gaze, as they continued their dipping, squeezing, beating and scrubbing. He followed her through the large room to a place where the water collected and then fed out of the laundry through a large grate in the floor. A steady stream of water trickled over the side of a large cistern to join the flow. Several more laundresses were there, dunking clothes into the water then wringing them out again. "You three, out-- Agnes said. You- In." She handed him the block of soap, and pointed toward the cistern. The far wall was old and discolored, with a steady trickle of water running down it, and into the cistern, keeping it constantly fed, and flowing. The laundry women collected their burdens with confused looks, alternating between his 'guide', himself, and their business, as they hurriedly collected the washing they were rinsing out, then sploshing out of the cistern. At no time did the feeling of being studiously watched ever stop. At least 'the rinse' was in a tucked away portion of the laundry near the back, but he had a clear view of the rest of the laundry from there, and the converse was equally true.
He accepted the soap, then nodded understanding to the woman, before entering the cistern, sitting down in the water to get himself wet all over, then starting the process of lathering himself up to get clean. He was not really keen the ever-present sensation of being watched, however. She heaved a sigh of relief, then resumed her own duties among the throngs of women, quickly being lost in the jumble.
"...Better jus git dis over wit..." he muttered to himself before standing, leaning against the wall, and lathering himself up from head to foot. The suds were a profound brown color from the dried dirt stuck to his skin. It would take several washings to get actually clean. He contemplated if it would have been wiser to wait for "his basin" in the privacy of that overly large room, but the thought of getting this dirt on the plush cream carpeting in there, told him it would not have been appropriate to have done.
At the other end of the laundry, Agnes and Melody were deep in their discussion of the interruption to the laundry, and the entirely inappropriate nature of taking a guest into the servants quarter.
"--Olivia and Hudson are at logger-heads, Agnes. Hudson wants to drag in an old winepress to use as a bathtub, given the.. Proportions.. of our guest, and the old biddy will have nothing of the sort. You should have SEEN her face when the butler told her where he was going to be staying. He'd have been waiting a week, at least, to have his bath. Can you imagine what a week of his sleeping on the duvet in his current state would have done? -- Something HAD to be done Agnes."
"Bringing a guest, no matter how unusual, into the laundry is forbidden, Melody. We have ENOUGH problems trying to deflect certain.. Accusations.. about me and my staff down here from those harpies upstairs already, we do NOT need this."
She looked up and toward the rinse. The bearman was leaned against the wall, leaning down in a rhythmic cycle of washing and scrubbing on himself. The water and soap had flattened his fur, revealing that he was not at all what one would expect from a bear underneath, but also not exactly man-shaped either. He was some eye-wrenching admixture of the two, with a long torso and chest, combined with short, thickly muscled and oddly human-like arms and legs,heavy wide shoulders coming to a thick knot in his back, and a powerful looking wide bottom featuring a prominent nub of a tail, among other anatomical features that, minus the concealing fluff of the fur, were now prominently on display. Her cheeks colored indignantly. They would be gossiping about this for WEEKS. The implications of such talk were scandalous. He practically rippled while washing himself.
"STOP GAWKING." she barked. "IF YOU'VE SEEN ONE, YOU'VE SEEN THEM ALL." Dirty giggles and snickers met her stern directive, and she sighed. This was insufferable. Silver linings-- Yes, at least he did not need any help getting cleaned. At least that insult to the dignity of she and her staff had been avoided.
"I'm sorry Agnes, I really am." pleaded Melody. The look of a woman caught between a rock and a hard place plastered her otherwise prim, and proper face. "I wouldn't have brought him down here if I felt there was really an alternative. What would you have me do? Take him to the fountain outside? Have him dirty up a months worth of clean linens, just because Olivia cant pull her head out of her own ass? You tell ME what I should have done different, Agnes. You and I both know that sometimes, things just need to get done."
The huge woman leaned against her washing bat with one arm, then cradled her head with the other. She suddenly felt very tired. As much as she hated to admit it, Melody was 100% right. She looked back down toward the rinse. The bearman had dunked himself back into the cistern, and had started lathering a second time. She shivered; this was incredulous. Might as well have brought a burly, naked man down here. How many times was he going to wash? Silver linings-- At least he was being thorough. Yes. There was that. There would not be a sudden increase in laundry tasks with heavily soiled sheets or carpets.
Exasperated, she returned to her duty, directing the laundry's activities.
--
It took three passes with the soap to finally get properly clean lather. Cedar had never felt more naked in his life, and was very eager to get the hell out of here, as soon as possible. The feeling of eyes all over him was relentless. Taking a final plunge into the now dingy brown cistern water, he rinsed the last charge of soap from himself, stood back up a final time, leaned against the wall then shook the water free, relieved to feel his fur poof back out again. He looked down at the edge of the cistern, and noted that it had a metal flood gate built into it. Politely, he raised the gate, and the dirty water rushed out, then down the gullet of the iron grating, before timidly toddling back up to where Melody and Agnes were standing.
"About time." scoffed the heavyset woman. "Melody, get him upstairs, quickly, before anyone else sees. You there-- go rinse out the cistern, we're behind as it is."
He gave his chaperone a wide eyed and plaintive expression of unease. He was VERY eager to be out of here.
"This way Master Cedar." she said stiffly. "We apologize for the circumstances, and hope you wont hold it against us."
He shivered, but did his best anyway to soothe her clearly shot nerves. "Dun wurry 'bout it. A' leas' I's clean naow. At all I really wan'ed. ---Af'er you, ma'am." and with that, the two disappeared back out of the laundry, and back up the stairs.
"Did you have a look at that!?" said one of the washer-women incredulously after they had left earshot. "Would you have ever guessed that was under there?"
"I'm QUITE SURE that was not a BEAR at all!"
"HUSH!" bellowed Agnes, her head starting to throb. This was a miserable end to a long day indeed.
"He was positively FILTHY!" came a voice from the far end of the laundry. "There's dirt stuck to the floor!"
"Just like YOUR husband, Melissa-- Hair and all!"
"SHUT YOUR FACE, TIFFANY, What are you doing looking at my husband anyway!?"
"I SAID SHUT IT!" bellowed Agnes. Oh gods, the rumors were going to be thick as fleas. By noon tomorrow, every servant in the building would know what that poor bear keeps in his trousers.
--
Melody led Cedar back up the stairs and back the way they came, completely uneventfully, and parted ways as soon as he was safely obscured within the excessively ornate room.
"Your clothing will be brought up as soon as it is cleaned and pressed, Master Cedar. Until then, please remain here, and enjoy yourself, and enjoy our hospitality this evening." she said, bobbing a curtsy before departing. That had been some time ago. A gentle ticking sound emanated from a strange wood and metal box with numbers and two completely unusual metal blades at bizarre angles on it. He had no idea what its purpose was. It was just one of many such oddities in the room; It was a completely alien environment, and he found it next to impossible to relax. He felt trapped inside it. This was a madhouse.
His fur was still a bit damp, and he was still unsure of how to use the bed. He walked to the large window and looked out into the darkness. Someplace out there was his cozy hovel, with its bedstraw mattress, and cozy bed of leaves concealed below. Someplace out there was the familiar world he knew, with wolves, owls, and rabbits in it. He'd have paid handsomely to be there instead of here. Exhaustion wracked his head, and he yawned.
He felt he'd had his fill of human company for one day.
He knew about what oil lamps were, at least, and he turned the wick down, raised the mantle, and puffed it out. Curls of smoke drifted up where the yellow flame had once been.
In desperation, he climbed into the bed, and tried to get comfortable.