Hello readers! I'm truly honored that you think the story is decent enough to have read this far. So thank you for that ^_^
Not much to say here, I'm posting this Chapter because I decided I might as well finish introducing our main characters before delving into the meat of the story (trust me, that part will definitely take a couple of days to perfect before I post). I'm aware these are short chapters, I've decided that these first three will be more of an introduction to the characters and the world.
But that ends after Chapter 3- Longer posts to come next time!
SO! Without further ado, I am glad to present the final installment of what I've come to consider as the prequel chapters of Rangers Apprentice: The Bard, the Thief, and the Ranger
As always, I look forwards to your comments: good or bad :)
-Ardoa88
News of a minstrel in Hawkentown spread to the rest of Caraway Fief faster than any wildfire. By the time the lanterns were lit the night following the next, the Tipsy Gypsy pub was packed to the rafters with the most astounding array of farmers, stableboys, warriors in training, craftsmen, and the like.
This, of course, meant that the waitresses and busboys were constantly moving: topping off tankards, washing and wiping down empty mugs, scuttling to the cellar to fetch extra kegs, all while managing to avoid tripping and falling over the many patrons crammed in the room. It was a challenging task, an intricate dance where the partners were consistently out of sync with one another.
Amidst the rhythm of the caper, Damara took the lead, her short, wiry frame easily squeezing between an exuberant drinker and the cold stone wall. Upon reaching the counter, she slammed down the empty flasks and winked at one of the busboys.
"We'll be making our weight in gold if this keeps up." She said heartily, having lost count of how many kegs were opened, only to be drained quickly and replaced, to then have the replacements be emptied just as fast.
The boy grunted, topping off the cups. As he did, Damara cast her gaze around the taproom. The bard, Brom, was seated close to the middle of the room, where a small space had been cleared for dancing. At present, one of the barmaids was entertaining the loudmouth Steven as they stumbled to the beat in a rusty jig. The surrounding drunks were laughing and cheering as the pair made merry.
The music wasn't half bad, in fact it was rather good- if Damara had to admit it. The young minstrel certainly knew how to read the crowd: after a long bout of dancing and laughter, he'd somber up the tone with a slow ballad, only to pick up the pace again with a fun hymn.
There was a call for more beer and Damara realized with a start that the busboy had finished refilling her mugs. With a smile of thanks, she swept up the tray and began the intricate task of delivering the brew. As she pushed through the customer's, the beads in her hair clacked and the bangles around her ankle chimed with her movements. Meanwhile Brom's song ended with one last chord and the taproom erupted into cheers. The other waitresses took the opportunity to make hasty runs while there was a lull in the music; having remained safely beside the bar in fear of tripping and falling amongst the rowdy bunch.
Damara snorted at their hesitation, reaffirming to herself that she was indeed the most skilled barmaid in the town. As if to test her claim, a trainee from the battleschool lurched backwards, blundering into the small girl.
As she felt gravity take hold, her body reacted instinctively.
The off-kilter foot swept back in a ron de jong motion and Damara curled into a crouch, the arm with the tray of merchandise pivoting gyroscopically at the elbow to keep the foaming mugs from spilling over. Her free hand slammed to the ground for stability as the action was completed.
A relieved sigh slipped from her lips as she stood back up carefully, inspecting the goods. She smiled at the sight of the three flasks; not a drop spilt. Well, okay, a few drops had escaped; but not enough for a drunken man to notice. Looking around, Damara saw that her three second topple had gone unnoticed by practically everyone in the pub. They were too busy listening to Brom as he struck up another tune, this one about a king with bowel issues and a drunken dragon. His voice rang clearly around the bar:
"Oh, the drunken king of Angledart could blow out candles with a fart,
But the world never knew of the courage in his heart till he slayed the Staggering Dragon.
Oh, the Staggering Dragon had four knock-knees and he staggered around and knocked down trees,
And he burned his bum every time he sneezed with the flames of his dragon breath!"
The song was well received as peals of laughter emerged around the bar.
After delivering her load, Damara made her way back to the bartop. On the way, she sojourned towards the trainee who'd almost caused the spill. He was a muscular fellow, tall with light brown hair and an unmistakable glaze over his eyes that came with intoxication.
He would be an easy target.
With a small bumble, Damara pretended to bump into the man accidentally, her hands clinging to the trainee for support. He looked down in confusion and Damara muttered a hasty apology before slipping away. The trainee watched her go with the same befuddled expression until his buddies shoved another mug in his face with hoots and hollers.
The absence of his gold piece would go unnoticed until the following morning.
Brom was quite pleased at the evening's turnout. By the time the last patron had staggered out the door, the sun could be seen peeking over the eastern hills. However the work was far from done for the busboys and waitresses. They scurried about, cleaning and sweeping and restocking as he packed up his instrument.
Stifling a yawn, he moved over to the bar and placed a few of the night's earnings on the countertop. The bartender took the offering gratefully, scooping them into the larger piles of tips; it was common practice for a performer to pay patronage to its host. And the fact that Brom offered the coins without prompting spoke volumes to the old bartender.
"Coffee?" The barkeep offered.
"I'd gladly welcome a pot of tea if you've got any. Does wonders for my voice." Brom explained.
The barkeep nodded and called to one of the busboys to put up a kettle, "Quite a showing, eh?"
"Not bad at all." Brom agreed.
"So how long are you planning to stay in Hawkentown?" The bartender asked with a side glance. Brom took a long moment before answering, knowing what he was about to say would disappoint the older man.
"Tomorrow?"
"Well, today, to be exact. It would have been tomorrow if I'd mentioned it last night but since tomorrow became today, it's more accurate to say I'll be leaving this afternoon." Brom said in his roundabout manner, smiling as the busboy returned with a steaming cup, "Thanks, lad."
"But... but, yeh only just arrived!" The bartender blustered.
"And I'll only just be leaving." Brom replied, sipping at the sweet aromatic drink. "My true goal was always to reach Norgate but that storm drove me a bit off-course." The barkeep sputtered, looking for some excuse to convince his money maker to stay for another night or two.
"Why don't you head out with the caravan. Surely traversing the plains will be safer with them." A soft voice suggested.
The two men turned, surprised at the interjection of one of the waitresses. The girl was young, maybe in her late teens, wearing a dark cobalt bandana the same hue as her eyes. Peeking out from underneath the scarf were wisps of wavy scarlet locks, some of which were interwoven with delicate silver beads. A small silver hoop dangled from her right ear and a length of chord was tucked beneath her shirt. In her hands she held a mop, currently in the process of cleaning up a particularly nasty puddle of... on second thought, Brom decided not to imagine what could be in that chunky mess.
The bartender's face cleared and he jumped on the opportunity. "Tha's right!" He cried in triumph, "Baron Fergus recently declared that more supplies were to be sent up to Norgate."
"Really?" The skepticism was apparent as the minstrel massaged the tea between his hands, "How... convenient. When is it that this caravan departs?"
"In two days or thereabouts." The barkeep rubbed his forehead, realizing this meant at best he was stalling for a mere one extra night.
Brom considered the offer. Travelling in large groups usually attracted more unwarranted attention; as bandits tended to prey on those they could make a profit off of. On the other hand, it could prove helpful when covering treacherous terrain to have other people to watch your back. In these parts, and during this season bandits would likely be far and few between, whereas the chance of getting caught in a blizzard was much more likely to transpire.
With a defeated sigh, Brom took a deep gulp of his tea- it really was quite delicious- and nodded, "Fair enough. I'll stay for tonight and catch a ride with the caravan."
The bartender let out a delighted whoop, "Good on yeh, lad! Good on yeh! I'll send word to the Baron that you wish to join 'em."
Neither of them noticed the waitress leave, or that the pile of tips was a half-dozen coins short of it's original size.
Fin! Thanks for reading guys (and gals)!
A few last things:
First, to FreeRunner: THANK YOU THANKYOUTHANKYOU! You were my first official reviewer and may I say- I practically cheered when I read the review. So glad you like the story thus far, I hope this third one keeps you coming back for more :D And never fear! I do plan to continue this fanfic, just maybe not at this rapid pace ;P
To Ensis96: My second official reviewer ;) High praise indeed from an author such as yourself! I've read (and reread) your Harry Potter Fanfic and to get such an awesome comment was really encouraging so thank you! Well, here's your thief: I hope you enjoy watching her work- which you will get a nice glimpse of in the next chapter- as much as I enjoy writing her.
To the many readers from Poland, the Netherlands, Australia, the UK, Singapore, and Canada: I never imagined this story could reach outside my home country in such a short period of time. I hope you are following it with ease and that nothing gets lost in translation ;) Out of curiosity, how do the songs transfer? Do they sound weird? Or does the rhyming scheme actually make sense? Let me know- It'd be interesting to learn how that works.
And to my many US viewers: Even if you don't send me a review *glare and finger waggle of shame* It still makes me smile to see the number of people who've read the story climb up and up and up- so thank you for the support :)
-Ardoa88
