Once upon a time, the manor's garden was a grown and groomed haven, an escape from the world beyond, a place to relax and partake in afternoon tea. Once upon a time was a long time ago. Neglected as the rest of the house, it has grown into a jungle. Few reminders of what once was remain. There’s the ruins of a bird bath lost in the middle of a grass snare, the bones of chairs, and a table in the course of rotting into oblivion.
Casper steps along the edges of the weed strewn flagstones that make up the back porch. It’s still early in the spring season, but already the shoots come halfway up his shins. He parts the sea of green and treads carefully. Who can say what’s hiding in the grass? Snakes?
His toes bump against something. Oh god, please don’t be a snake. But no, upon closer inspection, it’s a chunk of wood. Casper kicks it with prejudice. It hisses as it skims through the grass. “Balor! Where the hell are you?”
“Casper, language!” Language this, language that. Everytime, it’s the same old thing.
“Where are you?”
“I am in behind the rhododendrons.” That’s some fancy term for ‘big ass shrub’ because it’s from behind a few of them that Balor appears. “I had not anticipated that you would be so prompt.”
Casper shrugs. “You said ten minutes.”
“And the day before I requested you to arrive no later than sundown.”
Casper gives him his best stink eye. “I thought we got that sorted.” It wasn’t his fault Balor can’t give directions.
“Yes, well, ah… I was uncertain as to whether or not tardiness would become a reoccuring habit. I see that I need not have worried… Very good.”
Casper rolls his eyes. “Just show me where you want me.”
“Yes. Of course, ah, right this way.” Balor gestures in behind the bushes. He leads the way and Casper follows him.
“Are there any snakes here?”
“Snakes? Well, yes, but-”
Casper swears. No. Wait. It’s just that stupid piece of wood again. Thought he kicked it farther than that. Lame.
“Do we have a problem Casper?”
Casper looks up from glaring his misgivings at whatever may or may not be hiding in the grass. Balor looks cross. “What problem?”
“We really must do something about your language. It will not do to have you cursing up a storm. Gods know you’ll bring misfortune upon yourself by such profanity.”
“Gods? I only ever heard of the one.”
“Yes, there are gods other than Yahweh, whom I suspect you already know of, but I digress, Casper. Let us not get distracted.”
No, no. If distraction lets him steal away from a scolding, Casper would like to be distracted. “What’s a Yahweh?”
Balor pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “What is it that the race of men teach their children these days? How to curse up siege and storm? Do you not learn of the lives of your forefathers? Did they not teach you anything?”
Casper just laughs. Quick as a flash, his good humor sours into thinly veiled contempt. “Hilarious! Do you think I’d know who my pa is if I don’t got so much as a name? ‘Cause, I’ll tell you what, I sure as hell ain’t no Doe.”
Balor grimaces. How’s that foot in your mouth taste? Jerk. “Perhaps this is a topic best saved for another time.” And not a word was said after.
In behind the ‘rhododendrons’ was a faint trail where the grass had been worn away by frequent treks to and fro in this direction. It swerves in and around several more sprawling clusters of bushes in varying sizes. The road ends somewhere in the middle of the jungle where a glass house hides in the foliage. Balor motions for Casper to enter. Casper hangs back. Should he go into a building he’s never seen before with a person with unknown motives at his back? (What's there to decide? That's what got him in this mess to begin with.)
Casper gestures back. “Age before beauty.”
Balor gives him a look. “...Very well…”
Casper gives him a generous head start.
“Casper? Are you coming?”
Then again, there is such thing as being too generous.
Casper pokes his head through the door. Looks safe so far. He steps inside. It’s kinda warm in here. It’s nice. He closes the door to keep the heat in. “What is this place?”
“This is a structure specifically built for the cultivation of off season specimens of flora, reminiscent of the one that, ah…” Balor notices Casper’s glazed expression. “But that is of no concern. Come. I believe this may be of interest to you.” He walks to one of the many planters. “These are, ah… I am uncertain as to what the name for it in your language is, but I know it as al-sabanihk… Do you know the word espinac by chance?”
“You sure you’re speakin’ the queen’s English there?”
“Apparently I am not, such is the problem.” Balor frowns. “In any case, it matters not. It is an edible plant, one of several kinds that I have here, and I intend to plant more with your help.”
Casper tip toes to the planter and bends down to examine the shoots. “You sure these’re eatible?”
“Who is to say? Mankind have only been eating them for the past several millennia.”
Casper plucks a leaf and pops it in his mouth. He wrinkles his nose.
“Is there a problem?”
“Yeah. It don’t taste like food. It tastes like green.” Can he get away with spitting it out? Maybe later.
“Your complaint being what exactly?”
“Green ain’t food.” He’s totally going to spit it out the second Balor’s not looking.
And what does the man do in response to his suffering? He has the audacity to shake his head and smile. “With a fortuitous appetite such as yours, I doubt the taste will matter. The burnt pheasant did not bother you in the slightest.”
Casper tuts and looks away. “I don’t like greens.”
And Balor just smiles at him. “Come. I have some seeds here. I shall show you how to plant them.”
They spend the next several hours keeping busy in the greenhouse. Casper barely listens to what Balor says. There’s too much stuff to know. These seeds are something, those something else. They need to be buried, but not too deep. Those ones need more space, but these can go close together without any issue. What’s the difference? What’s the big deal? They all look the same and probably taste equally disgusting.
They don’t say much. Previous attempts at small talk have resulted in disaster. Silence is safer and arguably less awkward. The highlight of the day is when they finish.
“Now.” Balor brushes the dirt off his hands. “I believe that is enough for the day. They shall have to be watered, but I can manage by myself.”
“There a well somewhere close by?”
“Taking the initiative, are we? That is kind of you, but I insist on doing this myself. Water carrying is hard work and it would not do to over or under water the crop. Perhaps later when the sprouts have matured.”
Casper insists on following him to the well. It’s not a long walk. Just on the other side of the glasshouse, in fact.
“And here is the well. I believe it taps into the same spring from which the river originates.”
“There’s a river around here?”
“Indeed there is. It begins its course in beyond the trees over there, descends on the opposing side of the hill from the road to town, where it flows past the fields until it terminates in the marshland.” Balor traces the river’s course through the air. “Why do you ask? … Casper?”
But Casper’s already disappeared in the direction Balor pointed. Sure enough, there’s the river. He hears it before he sees it, not that there’s much to see. He wouldn’t call it a river per se, but there’s water at least. Casper follows it downstream, hoping that it’ll widen out and deepen enough for a dip. It’s a hike, but the river does grow the farther he goes. Half an hour later, the water’s shin deep. Good enough for a bath.
Casper watches the current. It looks cold. He undresses, steels himself for the plunge, gingerly dips a toe in and holy shit it’s freezing. This is a bad idea. This is a very bad idea, but, you know what? He’s gonna do it anyways because, screw it, he needs a bath as much as he hates it.
Edited for better wording in a few places.
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