Tales of Näestvedgrad - The hats and stuff

This is the first chapter of the first part of a series (we'll see if it becomes one) of tales written in English... I've never tried with tales before, so I expect some support... and opinions ;)

Chapter I - The Arrival

The people of Reckblarney, a small little town near Näestvedgrad, always wore hats. Not because a strange law said so, as happened in other villages such as Rumbuburia, where they always had to speak rhyming … here hats where used because it was the only way to visually express feelings.

Of course, Reckblarney’s hats, made only by the best hatmaker masters of the kingdom of Näestvedgrad, where magical... Depending on the feelings that the carrier of the hat had in his heart, it would take a different form and dye with a specific colour. That’s why young lovers would always wear a tall, bright pink hats, while sad old singles wore dark, flat caps. That’s the reason why they where no robbers, neither murderers at Reckblarney: they always got caught before committing crime. And that’s why poker was such an unpopular game…

One dark, cloudy day, a young man called Elbuort Smelborp came into the little village. He only had a pair of pennies in his pocket, an aged brown beret, some black bread to eat and a dirty, old rag he used as a cape. Elbuort was a kind–hearted fellow; however, he had always been a bit unlucky: wandering from there to here he had found nothing but trouble and problems… “In the almost forgotten Reckblarney - he thought - I’ll find a way”.

As the “traveller’s non-written laws” said, Elbourt went to the place where he knew that, by having some money, he would be welcomed, despite the fact of being a foreigner…. the local Inn. Reckblarney’s Black Buttercup Inn. Two-hundred years been managed by the Reeb family, two-hundred years of bartender’s experience and best brewed ale.

The tavern was crowded: it looked like there where more people than the number of inhabitants the town really had. “Beer calls better and with a sweeter voice than the most beautiful mermaid” said an old Reckblarnian saying. And of course, each person had his own hat… some where yellowed, tall as trees in autumn, while other where green as after-rain grass. There was no place for sadness in The Black Buttercup. Only a pair of hats where flat and dark blued... but of course, that was because their carriers had fall asleep, due to the excess of ale. However, these sometimes glowed and grew… it seems that alcohol dreams are a well of feelings.

As Elbourt walked in, the silence became the lord of the Inn. Hats began to change little by little, turning bright colours into dark orange, remaining tall and steady. It seemed that not even all the kingdom’s money would make him be welcomed between this strange people. And he had a hole in his pocket.

(To be continued....)