A/N: Just a little something I made up today. Hope you like it.
Imagine if you will, that you're a traveller, travelling to nowhere from nowhere with nothing but the clothes on your back, some trinkets saved up and a few coins in your purse. You're tired and hungry and can see that the sun is setting but today the fates favour you and just before dusk, you spot smoke seeps up in the dark wood and you find a town.
The inn there is busy and noisy with the smells of beer, smoke and food filling it. You go to the bar and ask the inn keeper how much for a room and a meal.
He's a kind man who agrees to trade a meal for some rare herbs you have and a room for just a few pennies.
So, with your simple meal and a tanker of drink, you go to the fireplace and sit, warming yourself by the crackling glow.
As you eat, you notice a strange chair by the fire, the space around it empty and with other chairs pointing towards it. It's by far the grandest chair in the inn and just as you find your curiosity peaking, a child giggles and runs over to the fireplace, sitting beside the chair on the floor.
She's not the only one.
In less than five minutes ten, twenty, thirty children are huddled around the chair, bumping elbows with each other, the urchins and the merchants sat side by side with wide smiles and whispering excitement. The adults have joined them as well, sitting and looking at the empty chair.
Silence has fallen pardon the fire.
You dare not move or ask what is going on for fear something bad will happen.
It feels as if a spell as befallen the inn.
The children look up and past the chair as a door at the back of the inn opens and a man in a long coat steps out, the tuffs of his hair grey with age, his face more wrinkles than skin but his powerful green eyes are wide with knowledge and power. The children shift to give him access to the chair which he eases himself into with a tired sound.
"Ah, that's better." He says, looking over the children as if counting them. Then his eyes shift over the adults and move to you, giving you a smile. "Well, hello new comer. Travelled far?"
You give him your answer and he nods.
"Ah, I was there once, a very long time ago. In fact, I remember a story from there. Perhaps you know it. It's called 'Barechild.'"
You frown, unfamiliar with the name.
But the old man's eyes have drifted from you to the children sat at his feet. "I don't think I've told you all the tale of Barechild, have I?"
"Noooo."
You grin as the children sing the word. So that's what's going on, this man is a storyteller!
He sits back and lifts a tanker in his hands. The inn keeper appears behind him suddenly and fills it from a bottle. "There you go old Tom. So, tell this story. Tell us the story of Barechild."
Old Tom smiled and takes a sip, dragging his time and teasing everyone, you included.
"Ah, Barechild. It's quite a story. It begins, as stories often do, with a prince.