The Confusing Bit

Brandon stopped abruptly at the sound of another voice; afterall, Brandon lived alone.  Or, at least, he had the last time he checked. "Who?"  It was all he could think to say at the moment.  He was rather stuck for words.

"What?" The old man asked.  The old man was just that; old.  His white beard grew nearly to his chest and his red robes flowed out from a frail looking frame.  He held a lantern in his right hand and lifted it higher so as to shed some light around the great hallway.

"'What' what?" Brandon scratched his belly in confusion.

"Oh dear."  The friendly old man said with a sigh. "It seems we're both in a bit of a verbal pickle." He patted his dog lightly on the head from habit.

Brandon, still standing quite still, suddenly became aware of his strange surroundings.  The hallway in which he stood was certainly no longer his; the ceilings were so high that the low light of the lantern failed to penetrate the shadows.  The walls and floors were made of stone, with impressive and luxurious rugs laid upon them.  On the walls, sat brackets for holding torches, although they were all extinguished at this late hour.  He looked down at himself.  He was still in jammies but they were also not of his possession, as far as he knew.  He wore a light cotton robe.  Brandon was sufficiently confused. "Where am I?"

"Where?"  The old man considered the question thoughtfully. "Well, in a manner of speaking, you are home, my Lord."  He quickly added, "But you won't know anything about that yet.  All in good time, my Lord."

"And, erm, don't mean to be rude, but...who are you?" Brandon hated to be rude.

"Me?" The man chuckled. "I am your Lord's faithful advisor, Alistair Monk."  Brandon offered a blank expression at this. "Why don't we go back into your chambers where I might explain a thing or two?"

Alistair ushered Brandon back the way he had come when he had been yelling pathetically for help.  With the light of the lantern, Brandon could see it was a massive room, with a giant canopy bed along one wall, while various other rooms branched off on the other side of the room.  On the floor lay a beautifully ornate rug; on the walls, exquisite draperies covering the expertly-crafted windows that were cut into the stone walls. 

Alistair sat him down on the chest sitting at the foot of the great bed.  He took a seat in a high-backed chair a few feet away.  His dog lay quietly at his feet.  Crossing his legs, he began to speak, "Let me start off by saying, welcome back."

The End

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