The Halfling’s Harvest Bonus Epilogue: Sour Grapes
“Come on, old boy.” Galvin’s bare fingers clutched the bottle of wine as he pulled it to his chest. “You got yourself into this mess. Time to settle the pie tab.”
The halfling stared at his shoes. Once polished to a sheen, they were now dull, scratched, and covered in a layer of grime from the walk over. He could have taken a wagon but he wanted time to think. Walking offered that, though he had no better idea of what he’d say than when he’d left. He nervously kicked at the ground, and a cloud of dust plumed across the driveway as he wondered for the umpteenth time if he was making a mistake by coming here.
Galvin breathed deeply and straightened his back, just as the clop of hooves echoed from beyond the inn. He looked up, expecting to see a horse. Galvin’s grip tightened on the bottle and he stumbled back as the largest hog he’d ever seen trotted down the driveway.
“Snort!” A deep voice called after the hog. “Wait for the rest of us.”
Galvin scurried into the grass to let the creature pass but the giant hog came to a halt before him. Its reedlike tail twitched back and forth as it pawed the ground with excitement, leaving indentations in the earth. The beast was as tall as Galvin and had a belly the size of a wine barrel, with tusks as long as the halfling’s forearm. His heart raced as the hog snorted. It blew heavy breaths that rippled Galvin’s tunic as it nuzzled against his pocket.
The hog pressed its snout firmly, pushing the apple inside Galvin’s pocket against his ribs. He’d been saving it for the walk home but it seemed the hog had other ideas.
“Don’t worry. She’s friendly,” a deep voice called from beyond the hog, where one of the largest men Galvin had ever seen sat upon a majestic horse. The equine’s muscles rippled beneath its chestnut coat, its black mane braided in an intricate pattern.
The man had fiery red hair and wore a dark green cloak. Several packs and weapons hung from the horse’s flanks. An adventurer, no doubt. Behind him, two women rode slightly smaller horses. One was thin, with tattooed arms and blonde hair, the other, much taller with dark hair. They whispered to each other, faces alight with amusement.
Friendly. Galvin eyed the hog. He’d heard tales of wild hogs and the damage they could wreak upon unsuspecting hunters. “I’ve never seen a hog this big.”
“That’s because she’s a dire hog. I rescued Snort when she was a piglet.”
“Snort?” Galvin chuckled. He took the apple from his pocket and hesitantly offered it to the creature. Snort crushed the fruit with enough force that a stream of juice shot out, hitting Galvin on the cheek. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it away.
“Sorry about that. Snort, get over here.” The man smiled beneath his beard. “She’s got a sweet tooth for apples. Can sniff one out from a mile away.” Once the dire hog had joined him, the man returned his attention to Galvin. “You checking into the inn? It’s a lovely place but watch out or you’re liable to gain a few pounds.” He patted his belly.
“No, I’m visiting an old, er,” Galvin paused, thinking back on the days long ago when he and Marigold had played in the stream and traipsed across the rolling hills. Back then, they had been friends, but now… “No, I’m just stopping by for a visit.”
“Well, take care. We’ve got quite the trek ahead of us.” The man pulled an apple from inside his cloak and tossed it to Galvin. The pig eyed it greedily before sulking away and joining the man’s side.
“Safe travels, mister.” Galvin nodded as they passed.
Galvin stuffed the apple in his pocket and turned to face the inn. He’d just stared down a dire hog, this should be a piece of cake.
***
Galvin could hear laughter and chatter as he waited outside the inn gathering the courage to knock. His knuckles were inches from the door, but he hesitated. There was so much to say. Could words really do justice to what he felt in his heart?
He knocked, and a moment later the door opened.
Marigold stood there, smiling. “Welcome to the Dew Drop Inn, where good times…” Her words trailed off and the smile faded to a frown, her brow knit above questioning brown eyes. She tugged at the end of a thick braid that draped over her shoulder. “Galvin, what are you doing here?”
“I, uh—” He looked down as a massive gray dire cat nuzzled against his thigh. “Hi, Onyx,” He patted the cat’s head. “It’s been a while.” Galvin offered Marigold an awkward smile. “I was hoping we could talk.”
A myriad of emotions flashed across Marigold’s features, but eventually, her gaze softened. “We can talk down in the cellar.”
Inside, Elara stood behind the bar, pouring a bottle of wine. Two gray-haired halflings sat across from her, their backs to Galvin. He grimaced as the elf scowled in his direction, and the two halflings turned around. Marigold’s parents, Wilbur and Gardenia, smiled in his direction.
“Galvin!” Wilbur raised his glass. “Good to see you, my boy. How have you been?”
Quite the fall from grace, he wanted to say but instead, he said, “I’m well. Sorry to interrupt. I didn’t know you’d returned.”
“For about a week now.” Wilbur gestured to the bar stool next to him. “Would you like to join us for a drink?”
A pit formed in Galvin’s stomach as Gardenia offered him a smile. After everything he’d said and done, they were as gracious as ever.
“I appreciate the offer, but I came to talk to Marigold about something.”
“Galvin and I will be down in the cellar for a moment,” Marigold said, nodding toward the stairwell.
Although it had been decades since he’d last set foot in the inn, Galvin still remembered the layout like it was yesterday. Not much had changed in all those years. His gaze settled on a wooden sign hanging on the wall behind the bar. He couldn’t recall having ever seen it before. It had an ornamental trim and images of a wine glass and grape cluster engraved on each side. In the center, it read, “wine brings people together.”
A lump formed in his throat. Those were the words Marigold had said at the harvest festival nearly a year prior. That’s a lovely sentiment, he’d mocked her. After this is over, maybe you can hang it on the wall.
He’d thought about those words a great deal over the past year. He had been the favorite to win, and even so, he’d treated the other competitors with such disrespect, as if they had no right to share the stage with his greatness. In truth, he wasn’t worthy to share the stage with them.
His eyes were misty as he swallowed the lump. “Actually, could we talk up here?”
Marigold raised a brow. “Are you sure?”
Galvin nodded. “I ridiculed you publicly. It’s only fair that I apologize in the same manner.”
His cheeks flushed as all eyes fell upon him. He’d been so focused on the bar that he hadn’t noticed that there were a handful of guests scattered around the room. The inn was quiet aside from the sound of a knife chopping in the kitchen.
Galvin cleared his throat. “After the harvest festival, I was angry.” He met Marigold’s gaze. “Angry at you. Angry at the mayor. At Tansy. At our community. Angry at everyone who had stolen what I thought was mine. But in truth, I should have been angry with myself.” He stared at his feet. “I’d become someone my childhood self would have been ashamed of. When I looked in the mirror, beneath the fancy clothes and jewelry, I didn’t like what I saw. So, I left.”
“I took a pony and rode until I found a town where nobody knew my name. In true halfling fashion, they welcomed me with open arms, offering me food and company, and sharing stories over bottles of wine. It was the first time in years that I embraced true hospitality. Over the days that followed, something sparked in me. Something I’d thought I’d lost. So I spent the winter traveling from town to town and learning what it meant to be part of a community again.”
“When spring finally came, it was time to return to the vineyard, but I wasn’t ready to leave. Suffice it to say, the vines at Darkroot Cellars have grown wild in my absence as I tried to find myself. I spent the spring and summer traveling and working on small vineyards. It felt good to get my hands dirty again, to feel the sun on my neck as we sang songs, and experience the aching muscles of a hard day’s work.”
“It opened my eyes to how truly vile I had been, not just to you, but to so many of our townsfolk. I came to apologize, Marigold. You never deserved my scorn. You’ve always done things the right way. And while I don’t regret hiring Tansy and using a druid to help maintain the vineyard, I do regret my actions. I still believe that Aedrea deserves the chance to experience halfling wine, but not at the expense of our community. I promise to do better going forward.”
“I appreciate the apology, Galvin.” Marigold watched him curiously, like he’d sprouted horns from his forehead. “It’s never too late to be who you were meant to be.”
Galvin smiled. “I also wanted to say thank you—” He offered her the bottle of wine. “—for opening my eyes. And for being an inspiration to the people of our great town.”
Marigold took the bottle, her brow scrunching as she read the label. “Sour Grapes?”
“It seemed fitting, considering everything.” Galvin chuckled. “One of the vintners I stayed with shared an old family recipe with me. They would purposely harvest some of the grapes early so that the wine would take on a more acidic profile. He called it sourwine. It’s not for the faint of heart, but it is an experience. This one is fifty percent sunburst and fifty percent honeywine.” He bowed slightly. “Consider it a peace offering. And a vow that this year I will make good on that childhood promise.”
Her brows arched, and a smile tugged at the edge of her lips. “Which promise was that?”
“I know it will take time to make amends, but I thought I could start by throwing the biggest harvest party this town has ever seen.”