Bard's Song
It soon became apparent that Jarra was not a gracious host, far from it actually. The five adventurers' soon found themselves locked away in a dank, smelly dungeon. Graffiti marred the walls, and some of it explained the rank odors that assaulted their nostrils. Some of the former occupants had written colorful suggestions as to exactly what Jarra could do with his treasure/cooperation/relic. Others had written moving poems or heartfelt letters to their loved ones. Judging from all that, they figured they wouldn't be in the dungeon long enough to call it home.
They had started be doing a thorough check of the cell, looking for any loose bricks, bars, or hinges that they might be able to exploit. Then they each examined the lock, an intricate beast that would be difficult to pick at best. Blade thought she might have been able to do it if she still had her picks.
That was the other thing; their hosts had been very thorough when they searched the group, taking everything they had except their clothes, which had been searched thread by thread, checked any and all places they might have been able to hide a weapon or tool. They even forced them to drink a foul concoction that had made all five of the vomit, ensuring that they hadn't swallowed anything to hide it from them. They were then bodily tossed into the cell, still clutching their stomachs.
All their belongings sat on or next to a table not six feet away from them. They might as well have been on another dimensional plane for all the good they were doing.
"Great, just great," Elfsong said sarcastically. "Now we get to live the rest of our lives, which may not be very long, in this festering pit."
"Stay calm, Elfsong," Knight was still examining their prison. "You of all people should know that looking on the bright side of a situation is important. I've been in tighter spots than this before and managed to get out in something resembling one piece. I'm sure this will be no different."
The women traded incredulous looks with each other, the situation looked bleak no matter how they looked at it.
The bard shook her head, "You are right about one thing: good cheer must be maintained. A distraction is in order, though this place is rattling my nerves enough that my knees are playing a melody."
Fade stood next to her, "Why would this place make you nervous? I thought Bards were unflappable."
"That's not necessarily true, we can only hide it better. It's just that this isn't the first time I've been in a dungeon, and the last time was only slightly less pleasant than this time."
Blade sat herself in front of Elfsong, "Now this is a tale I have to hear."
"Are you sure? I know many others, like the tale of Drizz't the Dark Elf."
"No, this will probably be more interesting."
Knight leaned against the wall, "You might as well tell it, you've started already."
"It's a long story, we may not have the time."
Fel leaned against a wall and glanced down the dungeons' corridor at their two guards. "We aren't going anywhere anytime soon, it would seem."
"Alright, I'll tell." Elfsong pulled her furry companion, Boo, out of his pouch and set him on the ground. He scurried around on the floor at her feet before stopping and settling on the ground. "Boo says that it'll be good for me to tell others of my troubles, but I think he just wants to hear the part about him."
* * *
She had been working in the inn as a serving girl for almost a year now. It wasn't the most glamorous occupation she could think of, but anything was better than scrounging the streets. Plus she was off her family's accursed farm, in the city where she had a much better chance of finding fame and fortune. Besides, in exchange for her hard work, she received free room and board, plus the Inn's owner, Mistress Tabitha, was kind to all her employees.
Another perk was all the stories she heard from travelers that came through to stay at the famous Elfsong Inn, tales of bandits on the roads and adventures in the frozen Icewind Dale, tales of a band of adventurers that saved the Nashkell mines and ended the iron shortage down south, to the single hero who saved Neverwinter from the foul plague of the Wailing Death.
Bertha, the inn's cook, put two plates on the counter and directed her to the table were some patrons were starting to become impatient. The inn's stage was empty, which wasn't unusual, the Elfsong had its' very own special performer.
Legend tells of how an Elf maiden died many years ago on the ground where the inn was built. Now, every once in a while, a haunting voice will sing such a melody as to make the strongest barbarian weep. Nobody really knows what she is singing about, the form of Elvish she uses died out long ago. Most believe that she is singing about a lost love, what other reason could inspire such a mournful sound?
Smiling at the patrons, the young woman made her way back to the kitchen. She sat, more or less collapsing, onto one of the stools. The day had been long and it wasn't over yet.
"You look pooped, child." Bertha smiled her big, motherly smile at her over her large cooking pots. The kitchen was permeated with the smells of Bertha's home cooking. There was bread in the large stone oven, baking, as well as sweet cakes cooling nearby. Bertha was like a mother to all the girls at the inn.
"Yeah, it's really busy tonight, although I'm sure you knew that."
"I've had to do three pots of stew already. Lots of people to hear her tonight."
"Wouldn't it be awful if she didn't sing tonight? We might have a riot on our hands."
"You're right. She can be unpredictable, and this wouldn't be the first time he didn't come out when she was expected to. If things do get out of hand, I want you to come straight back here. There's a tunnel under my woodpile. You and the other girls will have a way out if things get nasty."
"Don't worry Bertha, I'm sure everyone would understand that we have no control over her. She does what she likes and that's it."
"Regardless, it's better to be ready for everything. Now go take this to table four, they're about to start a riot as it is."
The young waitress picked up the plates and made her way back out into the common room. She, the Elf maiden, was supposed to start any moment now. This was the one time that she could be predicted. Some think that 's because this must've been the day she died.
The time came... Silence.
The crowd waited, but nothing came. The tension in the room became palpable. Soon, patrons began to mutter irritably. Then Tabitha walked out, and onto the stage. The young woman made her way to the stage. She knew what the announcement would be, and she wanted to be near her employer and friend in case she needed help. Tabitha cleared her throat and looked out at the crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she began. "The Elfsong Inn is sorry to announce that tonight's performance, it seems, will not take place. We are very sorry, but this is beyond our control. Everyone is more than welcome to stay. Thank you for your patience."
The crowd sat quiet for a moment, then one man got up.
We were promised the greatest voice in the world! You tricked us!" The man took a bread roll off his plate and threw it at the Innkeeper. She managed to avoid it but more food was on its way. The young waitress' fear had been realized, a riot was building and she and Tabitha were right in its' way.
"Please," Tabitha was pleading. "Please calm down. If I could make it so, she would sing, but there's nothing I can do about it."
The patrons were starting to crave blood. Tabitha just managed to avoid a dagger that would have buried itself in her chest had a she not been quick enough. The waitress admired her employer for her courage but the situation was getting out of control. She made her way up the stage to help her friend. The poor woman was frightened to death. Dodging various objects being thrown at them, she managed to get Tabitha off the stage.
"Quickly," she said to the innkeeper. "While I distract them, run for the kitchen. Bertha will see to it that you're safe." Still trembling the innkeeper could barely nod her understanding. "Go!" The woman began to move. The waitress took a deep breath and began to climb the steps of the stage once more. As she did, she began to sing the song she had heard so many times in the Inn.
She stood in the center of the stage and amidst the bottles, bread rolls, and other such things, she sang her heart out. Her voice fought to be heard over the rioting patrons, but eventually, the song captured their hearts, and the room became silent.
The song was beautiful, yet sad at the same time. And for a few moments, every man and woman in the room felt the pain of something lost. Then, another voice joined with that of the girl, singing the same song, but more personally it seemed. The voices of the dead and the living joined together to create something that mere words could never describe. Their voices weaved in and out of each other, weaving an image that even the greatest master could never paint.
As their song ended, the woman who would become a bard looked at the throng, and saw the tears in the eyes of all. Then one person, the same one who had begun the riot, stood up from where he had sat during the song, and began to clap. Others followed soon, and shortly a thunderous ovation shook the building. She stood there, listening to the applause of the audience and inwardly thanked the Elf maiden for helping her save their mutual home.
That night, Tabitha and Bertha both came to her room. They talked long into the night about what the girl should do with the rest of her life. And they all agreed that it wasn't waiting tables in an inn.
A few years later, the bard had moved out of the Elfsong Inn and away from Baldur's Gate, she now traveled the length and breadth of the Sword Coast, performing in taverns and Inns, making what coin she could, and loving every minute of it.
* * *
"Okay," Fade interrupted "So you became a Bard. What about the dungeon you were talking about? Or how you came across that rodent?"
Both the Bard and her furry friend glared at Fade. "He's not just a rodent, he's a miniature gargantuan space hamster, and his name is Boo. And I have more to tell."
* * *
She had just finished a performance at the Friendly Arms Inn; she was packing her harp into its case when a man approached her.
"You have a lot of talent." He said.
She continued to pack her instrument being careful not to damage the strings; she may have to re-tune it soon. "Thank you."
"I may have a job for you, if you're interested that is."
The Bard looked up from what she was doing and considered the man in front of her. "Maybe, tell me about it."
The job was easy enough. She was to perform for a nobleman in the Blacklake district of Neverwinter. It wasn't anything she hadn't done before, except that this wasn't just any noble, this man held a direct claim to the throne of Neverwinter. If anything happened to Nasher, the current ruler of Neverwinter, he would most likely become king.
The man who offered the job to her was the nobleman's secretary. He was charged with finding the best to perform at a celebration to commemorate the nobleman's newest acquisition: a jewel that was said to belong to Lord Never, the founder of Neverwinter. She decided that it would be a worthwhile job.
The performance went of without a hitch. She sang mostly, sometimes accompanied by her harp. Some of the nobles present at the party requested a few songs, mostly those about the few heroic nobles in history. She told a few stories that she knew when the occasion seemed appropriate, but the nobles weren't particularly interested in stories; they wanted music while they tried to impress each other with how wealthy they were. To be frank, it made the Bard sick. She rounded out her performance with some juggling, a few gymnastics, the few cantrips she knew. After all that, she was allowed a break, she decided that helping herself to the refreshment table would be just the thing right about now.
While she gathered her various foodstuffs, the nobleman she was working for approached her.
"You performed well, Mistress Bard. I especially enjoyed your singing."
"Thank you, my lord."
"I was wondering if you'd be interested in a more private performance, a few of my fellow lords and ladies will be having a small gathering the evening after next. Would you be interested?"
"Of course, my lord. Should I work out the details with your secretary?"
"Yes, please do. I will give you the rest of the evening off so that you may prepare for your next performance. And feel free to explore the grounds, for the next few days, my home is yours."
"Thank you, m'lord." The Bard bowed to her new patron, which he returned. He then walked off to attend his guests. In the meantime, she decided to search out the secretary to work out the details of her next job.
The night of the performance arrived and the Bard plied her trade once more. She dazzled the nobles with her singing, she amused them with her wit, amazed them with sleight-of-hand, and generally outperformed herself once again. Everything was going her way.
Then, something happened, she wasn't sure what, it all happened so fast. One moment she was enjoying the accolades from her noble audience; the next she was being arrested by the city guard, accused by the secretary of stealing Lord Nasher's jewel. A search of her belongings was made, and sure enough, the jewel was found. Except the Bard recognized it as a counterfeit not worthy for even the poorest of jewel dealers. Too bad no one else did.
Upon seeing this turn of events, the Bard's host was infuriated. He stood himself in front of her, his gaze burning holes in her eyes.
"I invite you into my home, employ you, and this is how you repay my hospitality." His voice did not raise a decibel, but his cold words fell on her and chilled her very soul.
"My Lord, I swear I did not take the stone! I would never steal from you! Someone is setting me up for a fall!" The fear and desperation was plain on her face and in her voice. Yet it only served to anger him more, for he saw it as the skillful acting of a master bard.
"Take her away, let her think on this as she spends her years rotting in the city jail."
As with most prisons, this one was dark and dank. The chirping of rats could be heard amongst the murmuring of other prisoners. She had been a resident of this place for only a few weeks now and already she was fighting to hang on to the remains of her sanity. Between the other prisoners, who ranged from criminally insane to just criminal, and the guards, who insisted on providing each and every individual with 'special' attention. They knew of her past, and more often than not, tormented her by saying, "sing for your supper."
Every moment thought she could spare from surviving this infested worm-pit, she thought of the night she was arrested. f the obvious counterfeit that had been placed in her belongings. She replayed every detail of the time she spent on that estate, of all the people she had seen, trying to figure out who had set her up. And she always came to the same conclusion. She refused to believe, though. In retrospect, it seemed so obvious that she should have seen it coming.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the screaming of the prisoner in the cell across from her. She looked over to see the guards yanking out the man who had been sentenced to hanging for the murder of some man in the Beggar's Nest district. She paid him no mind and looked away until the guards threw a new prisoner in the cell. She glanced over to see that the new inmate was a large bald man, one of the barbarians that roamed the Frozen North, by the look of him. He seemed to be badly injured and cradling something in his hands.
He looked across the way and saw that she was looking at him and she turned away as if ashamed she had been caught staring.
"Help...me..." He croaked out, "You must... help me..."
"There's nothing I can do to help you, even if I wanted to. The doors are locked and the distance between our cells is too great for me to treat your wounds."
"That is not... the help I need... My... time... in this world...draws... to an end... and... I cannot...leave Boo an... orphan..."
"Boo? I don't see anyone else in there to be an orphan."
The man opened his hands and a small hamster crawled out onto the floor. "Please... this is Boo... take care of him."
"What would I do with a hamster?"
"He's... been a good... friend... Very... special... Please... take care of him..."
"Why me?"
"Boo says... you... have a good heart... that... you should not... be here... He... trusts you..."
Those were the first kind words anyone had said to her since she had gotten to this place. They cut straight through the callous exterior she had put on, and touched her heart.
"I will, I promise I will take care of him."
The man smiled and urged the hamster toward her. It scurried across the corridor and into her cell. There it sat in front of her and seemed to stare straight into her eyes. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she could here a voice, thanking her, promising to help her any way he could.
Across the way, the man took one more look at them, and shut his eyes for the last time.
A month passed, and the Bard discovered she really did have a rapport with the rodent. She had told it her story, up to how she ended up here. It listened as she told it about her life in Baldur's Gate, and how she had come to Neverwinter. She told it about the nobleman's party, and about how there could've been only one person who could have framed her for the crime. In admitting it to the hamster, she admitted it to herself. The noble's secretary, he was the only one with the motive and the opportunity. He had taken the jewel, since he was the only one besides the noble who had access to it, made a cheap forgery, and set her up to take the fall. She was sure she could prove it, but she needed to be outside to do it.
The other prisoners watched her talk to this rodent, and assumed she was finally going insane, but to the Bard, who was as sane as any normal person, talking to Boo was as natural as speaking to any human.
One night, while the rest of the prisoners slept, the Bard was woken up by the hamster, which, much to her surprise, was dragging a key. Come on, he seemed to say, Let's get out of here and clear your name. The Bard took the key from her new friend and said, "All right, let's get moving."
* * *
I managed to escape from the dungeon and get back to the noble's house. When I got there, I found the secretary had left to do some business in Baldur's Gate. I convinced the nobleman to examine the jewel and, sure enough, it was a fake. The nobleman, along with some of his private guard and myself, went to the city, caught the thief about to trade the jewel for a large amount of gold. He was arrested and I was cleared of all charges against me. In fact, right after that is when Knight and I crossed paths."
"Very interesting," Knight remarked. "That may be why that man was waiting to kill you. And I can see why you wouldn't want to be back in a place like this, it's not an experience one would like to repeat."
"Yeah, so many good memories."
"Well, then," Blade broke in, "let's make this stay as short as possible."
Fel looked over at her, "Did you have something in mind?"
"As a matter of fact, I do." She turned to Elfsong, "Would your little friend mind doing me a little favor?"
--Uh-oh, what's going to happen to our small, furry, hero? You'll just have to tune in next time to find out. You may have noticed at this point that I get ideas from a lot of different places. The actual inclusion of Boo was two-fold. 1)The person whom Elfsong is based on is slightly obsessed with small, furry animals, and 2)making that small, furry animal Boo from PC Baldur's Gate came from my reading Megatokyo. Great comic, go check it out(That plug is just for you Piro, keep up the good work) just add a dotcom.
It soon became apparent that Jarra was not a gracious host, far from it actually. The five adventurers' soon found themselves locked away in a dank, smelly dungeon. Graffiti marred the walls, and some of it explained the rank odors that assaulted their nostrils. Some of the former occupants had written colorful suggestions as to exactly what Jarra could do with his treasure/cooperation/relic. Others had written moving poems or heartfelt letters to their loved ones. Judging from all that, they figured they wouldn't be in the dungeon long enough to call it home.
They had started be doing a thorough check of the cell, looking for any loose bricks, bars, or hinges that they might be able to exploit. Then they each examined the lock, an intricate beast that would be difficult to pick at best. Blade thought she might have been able to do it if she still had her picks.
That was the other thing; their hosts had been very thorough when they searched the group, taking everything they had except their clothes, which had been searched thread by thread, checked any and all places they might have been able to hide a weapon or tool. They even forced them to drink a foul concoction that had made all five of the vomit, ensuring that they hadn't swallowed anything to hide it from them. They were then bodily tossed into the cell, still clutching their stomachs.
All their belongings sat on or next to a table not six feet away from them. They might as well have been on another dimensional plane for all the good they were doing.
"Great, just great," Elfsong said sarcastically. "Now we get to live the rest of our lives, which may not be very long, in this festering pit."
"Stay calm, Elfsong," Knight was still examining their prison. "You of all people should know that looking on the bright side of a situation is important. I've been in tighter spots than this before and managed to get out in something resembling one piece. I'm sure this will be no different."
The women traded incredulous looks with each other, the situation looked bleak no matter how they looked at it.
The bard shook her head, "You are right about one thing: good cheer must be maintained. A distraction is in order, though this place is rattling my nerves enough that my knees are playing a melody."
Fade stood next to her, "Why would this place make you nervous? I thought Bards were unflappable."
"That's not necessarily true, we can only hide it better. It's just that this isn't the first time I've been in a dungeon, and the last time was only slightly less pleasant than this time."
Blade sat herself in front of Elfsong, "Now this is a tale I have to hear."
"Are you sure? I know many others, like the tale of Drizz't the Dark Elf."
"No, this will probably be more interesting."
Knight leaned against the wall, "You might as well tell it, you've started already."
"It's a long story, we may not have the time."
Fel leaned against a wall and glanced down the dungeons' corridor at their two guards. "We aren't going anywhere anytime soon, it would seem."
"Alright, I'll tell." Elfsong pulled her furry companion, Boo, out of his pouch and set him on the ground. He scurried around on the floor at her feet before stopping and settling on the ground. "Boo says that it'll be good for me to tell others of my troubles, but I think he just wants to hear the part about him."
* * *
She had been working in the inn as a serving girl for almost a year now. It wasn't the most glamorous occupation she could think of, but anything was better than scrounging the streets. Plus she was off her family's accursed farm, in the city where she had a much better chance of finding fame and fortune. Besides, in exchange for her hard work, she received free room and board, plus the Inn's owner, Mistress Tabitha, was kind to all her employees.
Another perk was all the stories she heard from travelers that came through to stay at the famous Elfsong Inn, tales of bandits on the roads and adventures in the frozen Icewind Dale, tales of a band of adventurers that saved the Nashkell mines and ended the iron shortage down south, to the single hero who saved Neverwinter from the foul plague of the Wailing Death.
Bertha, the inn's cook, put two plates on the counter and directed her to the table were some patrons were starting to become impatient. The inn's stage was empty, which wasn't unusual, the Elfsong had its' very own special performer.
Legend tells of how an Elf maiden died many years ago on the ground where the inn was built. Now, every once in a while, a haunting voice will sing such a melody as to make the strongest barbarian weep. Nobody really knows what she is singing about, the form of Elvish she uses died out long ago. Most believe that she is singing about a lost love, what other reason could inspire such a mournful sound?
Smiling at the patrons, the young woman made her way back to the kitchen. She sat, more or less collapsing, onto one of the stools. The day had been long and it wasn't over yet.
"You look pooped, child." Bertha smiled her big, motherly smile at her over her large cooking pots. The kitchen was permeated with the smells of Bertha's home cooking. There was bread in the large stone oven, baking, as well as sweet cakes cooling nearby. Bertha was like a mother to all the girls at the inn.
"Yeah, it's really busy tonight, although I'm sure you knew that."
"I've had to do three pots of stew already. Lots of people to hear her tonight."
"Wouldn't it be awful if she didn't sing tonight? We might have a riot on our hands."
"You're right. She can be unpredictable, and this wouldn't be the first time he didn't come out when she was expected to. If things do get out of hand, I want you to come straight back here. There's a tunnel under my woodpile. You and the other girls will have a way out if things get nasty."
"Don't worry Bertha, I'm sure everyone would understand that we have no control over her. She does what she likes and that's it."
"Regardless, it's better to be ready for everything. Now go take this to table four, they're about to start a riot as it is."
The young waitress picked up the plates and made her way back out into the common room. She, the Elf maiden, was supposed to start any moment now. This was the one time that she could be predicted. Some think that 's because this must've been the day she died.
The time came... Silence.
The crowd waited, but nothing came. The tension in the room became palpable. Soon, patrons began to mutter irritably. Then Tabitha walked out, and onto the stage. The young woman made her way to the stage. She knew what the announcement would be, and she wanted to be near her employer and friend in case she needed help. Tabitha cleared her throat and looked out at the crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she began. "The Elfsong Inn is sorry to announce that tonight's performance, it seems, will not take place. We are very sorry, but this is beyond our control. Everyone is more than welcome to stay. Thank you for your patience."
The crowd sat quiet for a moment, then one man got up.
We were promised the greatest voice in the world! You tricked us!" The man took a bread roll off his plate and threw it at the Innkeeper. She managed to avoid it but more food was on its way. The young waitress' fear had been realized, a riot was building and she and Tabitha were right in its' way.
"Please," Tabitha was pleading. "Please calm down. If I could make it so, she would sing, but there's nothing I can do about it."
The patrons were starting to crave blood. Tabitha just managed to avoid a dagger that would have buried itself in her chest had a she not been quick enough. The waitress admired her employer for her courage but the situation was getting out of control. She made her way up the stage to help her friend. The poor woman was frightened to death. Dodging various objects being thrown at them, she managed to get Tabitha off the stage.
"Quickly," she said to the innkeeper. "While I distract them, run for the kitchen. Bertha will see to it that you're safe." Still trembling the innkeeper could barely nod her understanding. "Go!" The woman began to move. The waitress took a deep breath and began to climb the steps of the stage once more. As she did, she began to sing the song she had heard so many times in the Inn.
She stood in the center of the stage and amidst the bottles, bread rolls, and other such things, she sang her heart out. Her voice fought to be heard over the rioting patrons, but eventually, the song captured their hearts, and the room became silent.
The song was beautiful, yet sad at the same time. And for a few moments, every man and woman in the room felt the pain of something lost. Then, another voice joined with that of the girl, singing the same song, but more personally it seemed. The voices of the dead and the living joined together to create something that mere words could never describe. Their voices weaved in and out of each other, weaving an image that even the greatest master could never paint.
As their song ended, the woman who would become a bard looked at the throng, and saw the tears in the eyes of all. Then one person, the same one who had begun the riot, stood up from where he had sat during the song, and began to clap. Others followed soon, and shortly a thunderous ovation shook the building. She stood there, listening to the applause of the audience and inwardly thanked the Elf maiden for helping her save their mutual home.
That night, Tabitha and Bertha both came to her room. They talked long into the night about what the girl should do with the rest of her life. And they all agreed that it wasn't waiting tables in an inn.
A few years later, the bard had moved out of the Elfsong Inn and away from Baldur's Gate, she now traveled the length and breadth of the Sword Coast, performing in taverns and Inns, making what coin she could, and loving every minute of it.
* * *
"Okay," Fade interrupted "So you became a Bard. What about the dungeon you were talking about? Or how you came across that rodent?"
Both the Bard and her furry friend glared at Fade. "He's not just a rodent, he's a miniature gargantuan space hamster, and his name is Boo. And I have more to tell."
* * *
She had just finished a performance at the Friendly Arms Inn; she was packing her harp into its case when a man approached her.
"You have a lot of talent." He said.
She continued to pack her instrument being careful not to damage the strings; she may have to re-tune it soon. "Thank you."
"I may have a job for you, if you're interested that is."
The Bard looked up from what she was doing and considered the man in front of her. "Maybe, tell me about it."
The job was easy enough. She was to perform for a nobleman in the Blacklake district of Neverwinter. It wasn't anything she hadn't done before, except that this wasn't just any noble, this man held a direct claim to the throne of Neverwinter. If anything happened to Nasher, the current ruler of Neverwinter, he would most likely become king.
The man who offered the job to her was the nobleman's secretary. He was charged with finding the best to perform at a celebration to commemorate the nobleman's newest acquisition: a jewel that was said to belong to Lord Never, the founder of Neverwinter. She decided that it would be a worthwhile job.
The performance went of without a hitch. She sang mostly, sometimes accompanied by her harp. Some of the nobles present at the party requested a few songs, mostly those about the few heroic nobles in history. She told a few stories that she knew when the occasion seemed appropriate, but the nobles weren't particularly interested in stories; they wanted music while they tried to impress each other with how wealthy they were. To be frank, it made the Bard sick. She rounded out her performance with some juggling, a few gymnastics, the few cantrips she knew. After all that, she was allowed a break, she decided that helping herself to the refreshment table would be just the thing right about now.
While she gathered her various foodstuffs, the nobleman she was working for approached her.
"You performed well, Mistress Bard. I especially enjoyed your singing."
"Thank you, my lord."
"I was wondering if you'd be interested in a more private performance, a few of my fellow lords and ladies will be having a small gathering the evening after next. Would you be interested?"
"Of course, my lord. Should I work out the details with your secretary?"
"Yes, please do. I will give you the rest of the evening off so that you may prepare for your next performance. And feel free to explore the grounds, for the next few days, my home is yours."
"Thank you, m'lord." The Bard bowed to her new patron, which he returned. He then walked off to attend his guests. In the meantime, she decided to search out the secretary to work out the details of her next job.
The night of the performance arrived and the Bard plied her trade once more. She dazzled the nobles with her singing, she amused them with her wit, amazed them with sleight-of-hand, and generally outperformed herself once again. Everything was going her way.
Then, something happened, she wasn't sure what, it all happened so fast. One moment she was enjoying the accolades from her noble audience; the next she was being arrested by the city guard, accused by the secretary of stealing Lord Nasher's jewel. A search of her belongings was made, and sure enough, the jewel was found. Except the Bard recognized it as a counterfeit not worthy for even the poorest of jewel dealers. Too bad no one else did.
Upon seeing this turn of events, the Bard's host was infuriated. He stood himself in front of her, his gaze burning holes in her eyes.
"I invite you into my home, employ you, and this is how you repay my hospitality." His voice did not raise a decibel, but his cold words fell on her and chilled her very soul.
"My Lord, I swear I did not take the stone! I would never steal from you! Someone is setting me up for a fall!" The fear and desperation was plain on her face and in her voice. Yet it only served to anger him more, for he saw it as the skillful acting of a master bard.
"Take her away, let her think on this as she spends her years rotting in the city jail."
As with most prisons, this one was dark and dank. The chirping of rats could be heard amongst the murmuring of other prisoners. She had been a resident of this place for only a few weeks now and already she was fighting to hang on to the remains of her sanity. Between the other prisoners, who ranged from criminally insane to just criminal, and the guards, who insisted on providing each and every individual with 'special' attention. They knew of her past, and more often than not, tormented her by saying, "sing for your supper."
Every moment thought she could spare from surviving this infested worm-pit, she thought of the night she was arrested. f the obvious counterfeit that had been placed in her belongings. She replayed every detail of the time she spent on that estate, of all the people she had seen, trying to figure out who had set her up. And she always came to the same conclusion. She refused to believe, though. In retrospect, it seemed so obvious that she should have seen it coming.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the screaming of the prisoner in the cell across from her. She looked over to see the guards yanking out the man who had been sentenced to hanging for the murder of some man in the Beggar's Nest district. She paid him no mind and looked away until the guards threw a new prisoner in the cell. She glanced over to see that the new inmate was a large bald man, one of the barbarians that roamed the Frozen North, by the look of him. He seemed to be badly injured and cradling something in his hands.
He looked across the way and saw that she was looking at him and she turned away as if ashamed she had been caught staring.
"Help...me..." He croaked out, "You must... help me..."
"There's nothing I can do to help you, even if I wanted to. The doors are locked and the distance between our cells is too great for me to treat your wounds."
"That is not... the help I need... My... time... in this world...draws... to an end... and... I cannot...leave Boo an... orphan..."
"Boo? I don't see anyone else in there to be an orphan."
The man opened his hands and a small hamster crawled out onto the floor. "Please... this is Boo... take care of him."
"What would I do with a hamster?"
"He's... been a good... friend... Very... special... Please... take care of him..."
"Why me?"
"Boo says... you... have a good heart... that... you should not... be here... He... trusts you..."
Those were the first kind words anyone had said to her since she had gotten to this place. They cut straight through the callous exterior she had put on, and touched her heart.
"I will, I promise I will take care of him."
The man smiled and urged the hamster toward her. It scurried across the corridor and into her cell. There it sat in front of her and seemed to stare straight into her eyes. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she could here a voice, thanking her, promising to help her any way he could.
Across the way, the man took one more look at them, and shut his eyes for the last time.
A month passed, and the Bard discovered she really did have a rapport with the rodent. She had told it her story, up to how she ended up here. It listened as she told it about her life in Baldur's Gate, and how she had come to Neverwinter. She told it about the nobleman's party, and about how there could've been only one person who could have framed her for the crime. In admitting it to the hamster, she admitted it to herself. The noble's secretary, he was the only one with the motive and the opportunity. He had taken the jewel, since he was the only one besides the noble who had access to it, made a cheap forgery, and set her up to take the fall. She was sure she could prove it, but she needed to be outside to do it.
The other prisoners watched her talk to this rodent, and assumed she was finally going insane, but to the Bard, who was as sane as any normal person, talking to Boo was as natural as speaking to any human.
One night, while the rest of the prisoners slept, the Bard was woken up by the hamster, which, much to her surprise, was dragging a key. Come on, he seemed to say, Let's get out of here and clear your name. The Bard took the key from her new friend and said, "All right, let's get moving."
* * *
I managed to escape from the dungeon and get back to the noble's house. When I got there, I found the secretary had left to do some business in Baldur's Gate. I convinced the nobleman to examine the jewel and, sure enough, it was a fake. The nobleman, along with some of his private guard and myself, went to the city, caught the thief about to trade the jewel for a large amount of gold. He was arrested and I was cleared of all charges against me. In fact, right after that is when Knight and I crossed paths."
"Very interesting," Knight remarked. "That may be why that man was waiting to kill you. And I can see why you wouldn't want to be back in a place like this, it's not an experience one would like to repeat."
"Yeah, so many good memories."
"Well, then," Blade broke in, "let's make this stay as short as possible."
Fel looked over at her, "Did you have something in mind?"
"As a matter of fact, I do." She turned to Elfsong, "Would your little friend mind doing me a little favor?"
--Uh-oh, what's going to happen to our small, furry, hero? You'll just have to tune in next time to find out. You may have noticed at this point that I get ideas from a lot of different places. The actual inclusion of Boo was two-fold. 1)The person whom Elfsong is based on is slightly obsessed with small, furry animals, and 2)making that small, furry animal Boo from PC Baldur's Gate came from my reading Megatokyo. Great comic, go check it out(That plug is just for you Piro, keep up the good work) just add a dotcom.