So I sat there like a fool, staring into the slight bursts and fizzles at the bottom of my mug. Tiny explosions spat back at me like a wild cat. For what seemed like sheer boredom, I shook the drizzle contents around and around, watching and listening more to the liquid whistling to me. Sighing, I slowly put down the cup and looked around the tavern; gazing at the dancing women and playing bands. I tried to hide my dorky, stupid smile at the same time as my slapped my eyes away from the various pairs of tits. I cleared my throat.
"Dandelion!" she called me from the end of the table. She startled me like I'd startle myself from the middle of a silent night – in a cold sweat from too many nightmares. Nightmares such as: "what'll happen when I run out of ideas for my stories" or "what if I run out of women" or maybe even "what if mead and ale go extinct". I chuckled at my stupidity before I realised she was still standing there with her hand out and prodding me for a refill.
"Yes." I began. Even I noticed the slur in my voice, however it was subtle. "Mead. Again." I handed over my tankard; for a moment I thought I threw it at her, but I heard no clash on the floor and, frankly, I couldn't care less. My dreary, tired eyes and continuous slur of a drunk man carried me on through the night like an irresponsible father.
So there I was, alone and fiddling with my crimson tuft of clothing, wondering what I'm doing with my pointless, insignificant life. Once again my reactions were skewed and before I knew it, three commoners were sitting opposite me with wide eyes like they were huddling round a campfire. "What do you want?" I said in an accidently rude way. I immediately apologised and greeted them with a smile as if I'd just splashed cold water on my face.
"Are you… Master Dandelion? The one who made the Chameleon?" the woman stuttered in an anxious tone. I permitted her fits of laughter with a nod and smiled again. The other two men stared excitedly too and I slapped them a nod with my hat. "Can you tell us one of your stories?" She asked. Suddenly and almost without my consent, my back stood straight – proud and ready for storytelling. The slur in my voice vanished and my eyes became brighter.
"Well! As you asked, of course! Gladly! I'll tell you the story about this time when I met a loyal friend…"
I was wandering on horseback through a fairly green place. Plants everywhere, overgrown foliage. There were canvases of embedded greenery which felt almost carefully or strategically placed for view. The whole area seemed like a painting – and it was pleasant! Splodges of trickling streams echoed around corners and atop rocks. Trees stood so high you couldn't even see the Sun! Fungus and moss hung down and complemented the ivy curtains of the forest. I actually developed a habit for stopping and sucking in the peaceful, fruity air into my nostrils whilst also trying not to choke on the annoying little fly things I came across (to which I waved them away with my hat). I'm sure that you're not surprised that I also had a bunch of papers and journals stuffed under my armpit. Chasms of knowledge cramped in my safe haven! Anyway, I'm getting off task. I trotted along with my horse until I came to an equally overgrown, tiny and abandoned village. I didn't mean to go there; I simply needed to pass through there to get to another place (to deliver those papers I talked about). But, as you obviously thought, Curiosity got the better of me. I dismounted and took tiny steps through the silence whilst clutching my papers. I suppose they were my defence because I was certainly no swordsman! I came to a door which was half ajar and, since I thought it was empty, I pushed it slightly to conjure various screams from the hinges. Before I entered, I subconsciously threw a few, short nervous breaths into the building like entering letters through a small slit of a door.
Now, I know what you're thinking: "Master Dandelion is nervous and cowardly." I am not a nervous person! In fact, I'm probably the bravest person you know; I was just taking precautions because I'm a sensible human being! Next thing I knew however, my caution was chucked down the drain as I sensed a random force at the back of my head as darkness greeted me to the floor.
Ow. That was the first thing I said when I awoke. My first thoughts consisted of multiple "Where the fuck am I?"s. The next thoughts were that I realised my ankles were bound to the ceiling and other bloody sacks full of body parts were also on the ceiling with me. It didn't take long before blood was throbbing through my head and I immediately started feeling queasy. I looked around. Blood painted the walls followed by flies jumping around in enjoyment at the stench. As I've said, the blood-bursting sacks reeked. I tried to plaster my nose with the palms of my bound hands to cover the awful smell but my urge to gag did not deflate. I struggled, making grunting noises as I flailed to uncuff myself from the tiny, wooden shack in the middle of nowhere.
Then I realised it wasn't me that was grunting. I heard something through the slit of the ajar door on the other side of the room. I figured out by now that that must've lead to the outside. Anywhere was better than this fucking place. Ceasing my efforts, I listened hard. I heard exactly what I thought I heard: grunts of a large, inhuman beast coming from outside this room. It sounded gigantic as every time the noises stopped, the earth would vibrate like it was taking a large, gulping step. Outbursts of fiery anticipations made by this fascinating unknown sent shivers up my spine! I almost wished I had my journals to write about this…
"Hello?" I wailed nervously, "Is anyone there?" I knew it was wrong – calling for help at something which was obviously a threat – but I'm the stupid bard Dandelion who knew nothing better than the calligraphy at the beginning of words. As you know now (and unfortunately for me), the snorts of curiosity pulled me into this thing even though I knew it was dangerous.
"Shut it!" came an anonymous whisper from behind me.
"Hello?" I called, surprised. "Please, help me! My crimson suit will get horribly ruined…"
"Shut the fuck up." I heard footsteps crawl around the outside of the building on the patchy, wet mud that I presumed was there. Suddenly, the creature I had been familiar with once before made groans of agony after clashes of sword smacked rocky substance. I tried wiggling out of my prison again, but the ropes denied me once more. I heard wailing, like a stray animal, but I couldn't tell which one it was; the human or the beast. Moments of silence pass.
Suddenly the door smashed open, flooding light and making me sneeze uncontrollably.
"Sorry. I have terrible allergies to sudden changes in atmosphere!" I apologised. The whispering "shut it" man didn't reply but did rip off my ties that bound me upside down – to which I thanked him profusely. I tried to shake his hands but he barged past me, sheathing his sword heading outside.
"Get on the horse." He said in a gravelly voice. We both travelled on the same, brown horse into the green forest once again. I'm just happy I got out of that blood-painted cell!
On the way to my unknown destination, I took a deeper look at my saviour. Muscly. He was muscly, and very strong. He wore no shirt, so his bulky arms and large chest blazed in the Sun. I traced my eyes down his back (as I rode behind him), and followed his scars like a trail. He only had one sword; evidently not a Witcher, unfortunately. However this was an interesting tale, and he was a soon-to-be ally I didn't know I had at the time… He wore trousers (thankfully!) but they were incredibly worn down. He had a thick brown beard, little head-hair, and, from my experience, a deep and quaking voice. My conclusions led me to believe that he was a warrior. Simple minded – and uses the sword to make decisions.
We reached a clearing. A small patch of dry grass surrounded by boulders. It looked enclosed; that's what he thought too. The horse came to a stop.
"So? Mind telling me your name?" I asked. He replied with a punch to my stomach and rapid binding to my wrists with tough leather. He then used the bottom of his boot to kick me to the ground. "Brilliant!" I coughed, "That's a great start."
"You don't talk unless I tell you to." He roared. I opened my mouth again to bribe him but I decided against it. He, ignoring me of course, started doing his own thing! Tucking into his satchel and withdrawing weapons and sharp tools. He tried his very best to just simply ignore me – when he wasn't swatting away the flies which jabbed his sweaty forehead – but ended up giving me a monologue.
"The creature will be here very soon." He growled whilst fiddling with the tip of his shiny sword. I kept my extremely misbehaved vocal chords shut. "We need to prepare." But then he stopped and seemed to think about what he said. "I need to prepare." He corrected. Satisfied that he was all ready for the fight, he wrapped me around a dense tree with reassured ropes.
"Look, I know you don't trust me…" I began. "but I'm just a mere bard! I'm not gonna attack you or… anything." He wasn't listening. I sighed before prodding a leaf with my shoe, but also trying to not get my suit dirty. I looked at myself and decided it was already too late. You couldn't even see the crimson if you tried.
I then heard it roar. The massive rocky giant came out from within the trees and shook me terrified with a gaze alone. I'm sure Geralt had told me that this was a rock troll, but I fear I might have been mistaken (mainly because I wasn't really listening). It had a thick, rock-like exterior with a face of what seemed like a hundred mangled tongues glued together into a skull shape. Oozes of blood protruded between the cracks between its skin when it walked but it looked comfortable with that; as if it was used to pain. It walked slowly and rhythmically. My captor and my saviour drew his sword as I wiggled my way around the ropes across my chest – looking for a loose end to squirm out of and help him. He, throbbing with adrenaline, started to jab the creature but I wasn't really paying attention to that. I heard them battle whilst I fiddled with the ropes once again, and again and again. After what seemed like centuries, I broke through and stood up; looking at the fighting man. To my fright, he was already bleeding on the forest floor. But so was the creature. It moaned up against a tree however it had started developing a plan to get back up again and finish us both. To my saviour's protest, I swiftly grabbed his bloody sword from the mud and threw it like a spear to the eye of the troll. It immediately flopped, the life weeping from it. It made a final, depressive shout before leaving the world and gifting us silence.
"Dandelion." I said, "my name is Dandelion." I swiftly offered him a hand up from the ground. Hoping he'd hurry up because the cuts I'd developed before were hurting, I smiled and chuckled a bit. Reluctantly, he agreed and I helped him up whilst he clutched his wound.
"Dune. Guess the feeling's mutual."
So, my new ally, Dune, and I huddled ourselves around the campfire we made that evening; dressing our wounds and eating from the supply of food which he kindly offered me. I sighed.
"What brings you here?" he asked. I thought about it for a while and realised my initial goal – to deliver some papers – had officially gone out the window.
"Nothing much I guess." I replied, "It's kind of been a long day, mostly forgotten…"
"Tell me about it." He chuckled before launching himself at a chicken wing and then sucking his fingers to detach the grease. "Look… Dandelion, you're welcome to tag along with me for a little while," he smiled warmly, "I'll keep you safe. I mean, I don't see you as the adventuring type – so I can't imagine you making it back to wherever you need to go in one piece." I smiled again. I didn't even need to say 'thank you' because he could sense it as my eyes lit up. I nodded. Then he continued after getting up and packing his bag. "We better get moving. Here, we can travel on horseback to the nearest village and get ourselves organised."
They looked like they'd gone to sleep, tankards in hand. I finished the first part of my tale (to which I needed a good few top ups of ale), so I was pretty knackered too, but I pushed their floppy arms away and left them at the table – dozing until the morning. I thought it would be best to sober up for now, then I will happily return to the inn to tell another story.