Lo'Muu..

Turns out I got commissioned ta sing a song fer the drow matron, who keeps givin' me these lovely pearls... Good thing I was rollin' drunk when she asked me ta sing it in the tavern in front of other folks.

♫There be a name tha' whispers o'er the rock...

Hush'd, but insistant to entice the ear...♫

♫ Commandin' ev'ry wanderer ta flock,

An' listen closely, lest they chance ta 'ear..♫

♫ Lo'Muu... tha' low murmur eminates..

No fleetin' roar or finite cry o' kings..♫

♫But rather constancy, weaved throughout fates,

To touch the mountains an' the smallest things..♫

♫What eye does nah acknowledge an offense

From mighty storms an' fiery wrath o' wars?♫

♫But tha' same eye would miss the bold events,

O' lappin' water shapin' all the shores.♫

♫An' so - Lo'Muu - the name resounds so deep,

As deadly in sweet patience as the breeze..♫

♫Refreshin' as yer drift off inta sleep..

But deadly: when, by night, yer soul doth freeze..♫

The Smell o' Stew

♫I’ll tell yer all a tale o’ folk

I ‘eard some time ago…♫

♫The kind o’ tale tha’s like a joke,

Wi’ a lesson in the flow…♫

♫A-wand’rin’ through a town was I,

Wi’ nah a penny earned,♫

♫When smells o’ dinner wafted by,

An’ I stopped an’ sniffed an’ turned..♫

♫T’was comin’ from a tavern ‘ouse.

The smell were beckonin’ me…♫

♫So I crept in, quiet as a mouse

(Wi’ a rumblin’ stomach) can be…♫

♫As it were early in the day,

There were nah people yet.♫

♫So round the back I made me way,

Ta see what I could get…♫

♫An’ there before me very eyes,

The source o’ nose-delight…♫

♫A great big bubblin’ pot I spies –

Oh, what a welcome sight…♫

♫I limped across to where it stood

(I only ‘ad one shoe).♫

♫ The bubb’lin’ pot hissed: ‘I tastes good…

Yer knows what yer must do…’♫

♫ (Aye, true – so ‘ungry was I then,

I thought the pot, she spoke…♫

♫In truth, I were near faintin’ down,

Me ‘unger were nah joke…)♫

♫I finds a rag an’ lifts the lid,

An’ peers inside the pot.♫

♫The cook ‘ad sure ‘imself outdid:

A beef stew wi’ shallot.♫

♫I stopped an’ savoured ev’ry whiff,

I shut me eyes an’ smiled,♫

♫But at a sound, I straightened stiff –

The cook stood, looking riled…♫

♫From the door ‘e came at me,

I dropped the lid wi’ a clatter,♫

♫‘E grabbed me wrist most cruelly,

‘is fist prepared ta batter.♫

♫ ‘You’ll pay fer tha’ yer dirty scrag!’

‘E shouts, wi’ reddened hue.♫

♫ I protested: ‘I did nah take!

I only smelt the stew!♫

♫ ‘It matters not, I will still charge

Jus’ fer the smell of it…’♫

♫I paused – then took me chance to barge

An’ squirm from out ‘is grip.♫

♫I ran fer’t door an’ open air -

‘E chased me wi’ a cleaver.♫

♫Built like a castle gate ‘e were.

(No doubt wi’ a tiny lever..)♫

♫An’ as me little legs ran fast,

I ran straight into a priest,♫

♫Who ‘appened ta be strollin’ past.

I glanced back at the beast…♫

♫Then pleaded to the holy man,

‘Please sir… I’s bein’ chased…♫

♫This cook wants pennies for a stew

I smelt but did nah taste!’♫

♫By this time cook ‘ad caught us up,

All red an’ sweaty an’ wheezin’.♫

♫ ‘Is cleaver raised ready ta chop -

Me legs nah moved fer freezin’.♫

♫The priest ‘e sudden raised a hand,

An’ stopped ‘im on the swing.♫

♫ ‘E asked: ‘Am I to understand,

Yer chargin’ this young thing,♫

♫ For merely a faint whiff o’ stew?

The cook ‘e nods ‘is ‘ead.♫

♫The priest, ‘e frowned between us two,

But then ‘e shrugged an’ said:♫

♫ ‘No matter then, yer’ll get yer pay.

I’ll see to it meself.’♫

‘E took a purse o’ leather grey,

Not laden wi’ much wealth.♫

♫The cook ‘e grinned, that slimy leech,

As th’ kindly priest complied.♫

♫ But ‘e dangled that purse out o’ reach

An’ rattled the coins inside.♫

♫The priest ‘e said: ‘Be satisfied,

If she did scent purloin.♫

♫For the smell o’ stew I do provide

The sound o’ jinglin’ coin.♫

♫ The cook, well, ‘e ‘ad nah reply -

‘E’d made ‘im feel a sinner.♫

♫ I grinned an’ thanked th’ kindly priest,

An’ went ‘round ‘is fer dinner.♫

Bad to worse...

Aye, so I was just mindin' me own business in't village early in the day, when I saw some figures approachin' from behind the fletcher's. I'd jus' woke up, an' took a while ta focus, but then realised it were tha' bloody wild elf wi' the axe, draggin' Hawk the drow behind 'er, all unconscious on a rope!

Well, I were deeply confused, as yer can imagine, especially when she 'anded me the end o' the rope an' garbled somethin' in their strange language. I stood there, nah knowin' what ta do, when all sudden-like, some drow appeared, an' a dragon. As yer can expect, I dropped the rope an' tried ta sneak off, but then the dragon came up an' said she was goin' ta get me. I did nah stop ta listen - I jus' ran.

Out o' the village an' across the battlefield I went, as fast as me little legs could carry me, an' I thought ta 'ead fer the 'aunted woods, see if it would slow 'er down. But it did nah - she were in a smaller form an' 'ad mightier legs than me. She started clawin' at me round tree trunks, deep gougin' wounds they was, an' righ' painful. I kept divin' around ta try ta evade 'er, all the while shoutin' tha' I was jus' a bystander an' did nah attack Hawk, but she didn' believe me. I rolled under a bush as I weakened from the clawin', feelin' all torn an' woozy an' ta be honest, fairly freightened. As a last resort, I told 'er a secret tha' migh' 'ave saved me from death, but she insisted she wanted me unconscious an' then she'd confirm the truth o' what I spoke. So I gave in an' played dead.

I don't remember much o' what 'appened next - jus' remember a feelin' like I was flyin' through't air... very strange. When I wakes up, I finds mesel' dumped in front o' the drowfolk, tha' matron-woman an' Hawk, an' wi' them some sort o' blue woman too. The dragon asked Hawk if I was 'is attacker, an' sensin' me life were danglin' on a thread by now, I looked up at 'im an' pleaded tha' 'e tell 'er I were a good 'un. An' Hawk... well, 'e came through fer me. 'E 'ad a chat wi' 'is matron an' got me cut free. I did nah know really wha' were goin' on: by now, I 'ad lost a fair amount o' blood, an' they was all chattin' away in their language. But then, the blue woman came over an' kneeled down, an' starts patchin' up the claw wounds fer me. Most kind of 'er, it was, an' she were most soothin' too, in 'er nature.

She was 'alf way through sortin' me out, when Urumi the elf turns up, so I made out like they was botherin' me an' snuck off to the stables. An' tha's where I 'id 'til Linwe found me later on.

Bloody elven healer... She wanted ta use magics on me, but yer knows, I's nah so keen on magics. 'Ave yer turned into a newt if they puts a word out of order or whatever. So she sewed up me wounds, an' then she'd nah stop... starts rubbin' stuff on me fer me fleas an' lice, an' insistin' on bathin' me an' stuff like tha'. She even... *coughs*... well, between ye an' me, she starts goin' on about if I's seen rice in me... yer know... doin's. Before I knows it, she's makin' me swallow this an' tha', ta get rid o'... well, worms. An' she would nah shut up about it neither. Whole bloody village'll probably 'ear o' tha' one - she bloody went an' told Elestria! Gah... this minstrel is goin' ta lie low fer a while...

Swith's tale at the festival bonfire

I’s goin’ ta weave a tale for yer,

Was goin’ ta sing a song…

But as some o’ yer migh’ well know

Me lute - she feels quite wrong…

(Some rude an’ moody drowfolk went

An’ cut me strings right through…

But matters not, me mind be bent

Upon a song for THEM I’ll do…)

But now I gi’s a diff’rent tale,

Tha’ maybe drow of old,

When still cultured ta know the arts,

Might liked to ‘ave ‘eard well told.

Now, some o’ yer may know me mind,

When’t comes ta matters o’ the heart:

That grandest trick - the eyes do blind

Wi’ Love… that laughs, then turns to fart.

But p’raps this tale befits me well,

This tale o’ trickster Love at play,

So might yer see as I shall tell

An’ course of fates do weave their way…

In Millenot, the royal hall,

O’ Caleb, aging King o’ t’North,

There was prepared a stately ball,

An’ nobles were invited forth.

(An’ I were there meself o’ course,

Providin’ music fer the dance)

The King’s real wish, to put slight force

Behind a push to a romance

Of ‘is sweet daughter Isabelle,

So fair, so elegant an’ tall…

This was, so far as we could tell,

The third – no - fourth or fifth such ball,

In vain attempt to fan a flame

Within the heart o’ that fair thing.

To such an end, three lords o’ fame

Did come at biddin’ o’ the King.

(‘Twas said the princess, by desire,

Was trussed up in a special belt –

So man’s ardour would have to fire

To nah just heart, but metal melt…)

But I digress – these nobles three

O’ certain grace an’ honour’d breed,

Did all arrive most punctually,

Each one upon a worthy steed.

Lord Duncan, finest warrior known,

‘is reputation through the door

Before ‘is feet - but just to beat

‘is ego draggin’ ‘cross the floor.

Then came the young Prince Gregory:

A brattish, slightly spoiled lad,

‘is natural, but translucent charm

A brief distraction from the cad.

Lord Hubert, sickly rich in dress,

The elder, economic vote,

So burdened he wi’ weight o’ coin,

An’ castle wi’ a double moat.

They all sat down for th’openin’ feast,

From t’corner, playin’ me lute I saw

Such things as swans an’ sweets an’ geese,

A honeyed, succulent roasted boar…

An’ feast they did on such sweet meats,

Lords Hubert, Duncan, Gregory.

The latter, ‘e kept swappin’ seats

Ta sit wi’ all the maids, yer see…

Then Isabella’s cousin, Grace,

A plain but feisty girl o’ wit,

Spotted the Prince approach ‘er place:

Invited ‘im to come an’ sit.

She ‘ad been eatin’ from a plate

O’ local shellfish from the town.

She whisper’d that potential mate

Should take one up an’ eat it down.

“For truth”, said she into ‘is ear,

“These little creatures o’ the sea,

Can bring the flames of passion near –

An’ Isabella may choose thee…”

Impress’d, the young prince took ‘is chance

An’ soon, the feast drew to a close.

We struck up chords inspirin’ dance,

To rouse the guests upon their toes.

An’ as the evenin’ rolled along,

Wi’ farandoles an’ sarabandes,

The three men danced amid the throng.

Seekin’ Isabella’s hands…

Upon a gigue, Prince Gregory

Did sudden stop to softly frown.

The ‘earty sense o’ revelry

Became a feelin’ further down…

Yer see, the Prince, so delicate,

Ne’er before ‘ad ate those fish.

An’ since ‘e took from Grace’s plate,

‘E were suff’rin’ from that local dish…

‘e sat awhile, not far from me -

I watched ‘im as I played me lute –

‘is poor stomach played ‘armony,

A rumbled discord wi’ no mute.

‘E sat an’ shifted as ‘e spied

Lord Hubert an’ Lord Duncan brought

In turn ta meet the promised bride.

An’ soon King Caleb’s eye ‘ad caught

Prince Gregory’s. An’ ‘e did nod

An’ motion forward ‘is daughter fair

Ta meet the worsenin’ poorly sod.

The lad uttered a silent prayer…

Approach’d he, wi’ a curious gait,

An’ strange expression on ‘is face.

He breathed, then paused – An’ she did wait –

‘Til cried he: ‘I must quit this place!’

An’ set off out the hall at pace.

The Princess stood an’ gaped a while.

The crowd’s eyes fell upon ‘er face

Until ‘er lips began ta smile…

“What an enigma,” she did sigh,

“What handsome mystery abound…

Go – seek ‘im out and, by and by,

‘E may become an ‘usband found…”

The King’s men rushed ta find the lad -

An’ three days later brought ‘im back.

(For that young Prince ‘ad felt so bad

For shame e’d hidden in a sack…)

An’ soon they were most truly wed…

Although ‘ad she that truth well known,

Perhaps the fire that graced their bed

Would ‘ave a pail o’ water thrown.

So now yer knows why I proclaim

That Love be jus’ a trickster foul…

For that grand feelin’ o’ love’s flame,

Was nah in’t heart – ‘twas in the bowel.

Bloody ol' baker...

"I's made up me mind... despite all't bloody drowfolk, big purple monsters tha' trample th' tavern, wild elves an' orcs an' all, when yer can 'ave tha' much fun in one festival weekend, it makes up fer it.

I's nah one fer tournaments wi' blades an' bows (would more likely 'ave me own eye out than someone else's), but we 'ad some daft games goin' fer t'ordinary citizens ta join in wi'. I wandered out o' the tavern late, 'avin' slept long in front the fire an' then 'ad a few meads ta get mesel' goin'. Bumped inta ol' Rikryn the baker on't way ta the village an' got chattin', an' we was talkin' 'bout some o' the comin' games. I starts teasin' 'im, all in jest like, about 'is age an' 'im bein' too slow ta compete wi' the youngsters o' the realm, an' o' course, what wi' 'im bein' 'alf-drow an' all, sometimes 'e don't appreciate me testin' 'im. Then suddenly, before I knows what I's agreein' ta, 'e gone an' challenged me to a pie bakin' contest, in which we gots ta run an' find th'ingredients an' get back ta the ovens.

*rolls eyes* Well... I's nah much fer bakin', but I's fast on me feet, so we starts off, fightin' over the wheat at first, but then I loses 'im in the woods lookin' fer firewood. I starts ta regret it when I began to sober up a bit, windin' the well fast as I could an' runnin' back ta town. An' I gets there...an' who'd 'ave thought it - I were first back to the bakery, wi' the ol' baker nowhere in sight. *grins*

So I starts tryin' ta make pastry fer the pie, scratchin' me 'ead... s'been a while since I's done bakin' like tha', an' ta be honest, I 'ad nah clue wha' I was doin' fer a while. Some folk 'ad gathered ta watch, an' started shoutin' out advice an' that. But while I was stood figurin' it out, I could see Rikryn 'imsel', off at a distance, makin' 'is way steadily toward the village, wi' 'is ol' bones creakin'. I frowns an' starts panickin' a bit, droppin' bits o' dough on't floor an' pickin' 'em up again, watchin' 'im out the corner o' me eye as 'e begins kneedin' dough like a bloody expert. So I rushes me pie base ta the oven....an' wha' do yer think? I's nah enough bastard cherries! I 'as ta run off ta the bloody tree an' shake it an' shake it 'til more fall down. 'Alf o' them ended up in't river, but I finally manages ta get enough fer me pie.

I runs back only ta find tha' 'e gone an' got 'is stupid pie in th'oven already, an' 'e standin' there wi' a big smirk on 'is face, like a puppy that gone an' shat in me shoe. So I ignores 'im, an' carries on, an' finally gets me effort in me oven. I could see from't look on 'is face tha' 'e knew 'e bloody won. While they's bakin', I tried me best ta scupper 'is pie, short o' standin' there dismantlin' 'is oven brick by brick. Even tried ta throw a bucket o' water o'er 'is fire (but managed ta soak 'im instead).

But it were nah use... 'is pie came out th'oven lookin an smellin' perfect. Mine looked an' smelled like it'd already been ate an' passed.

Gah... tha' bloody ol' baker. I'll ne'er 'ear th'end o' that. 'Patience,' said 'e... 'There be a difference between patience an' haste.' Pfft. I'll get 'im back soon enough. An' I did too... I beat 'im at both arm an' mud wrestlin' later on tha' very day. *grins*

Bloody drowfolk...

"Pfft... yer knows, I were in't tavern, mindin' me own business an' 'avin' a few drinks t'other week, when these two bloody drowfolk walks in. They sits down, an' all I's doin' is tunin' me poor ol' lute, an' then sudden-like, out o' nowhere, comes this dagger through t'air tha' cuts me lute strings righ' through. Well, as yer can imagine, I was a bit riled by this. Don' mind so much if they wants ta 'ave a go, but when it comes ta me lute... well... tha' jus' rude.

She walks in like she be queen of everythin' (I were tempted ta make fartin' noises wi' 'er steps, but thought better of it). She were followed by 'er dog, some drow male, who nah doubt 'ad nah much brain fer owt but chuckin' daggers. All high-nosed they was, black an' broodin', wi' nah sense o' humour ta speak o'. I took it well enough, 'cause I knows what they's like... rather likes ta stab wi' blades than wit, 'cause they's nah got the mind for it: subtle as a rock in't face. But then I spots a tin whistle in me sack, so I starts playin' a shrill tune an' shows 'em me arse. Got the male one clawin' at 'is ears... *smirks*

Thought I'd pushed me luck though... the female comes o'er wi' a look like a cat tha' jus' 'ad its tail stepped on... comes up righ' close... an'... offers me a drink. Well, needless ta say, I were surprised - thought they 'ad nah 'umour. So I laughed it off an' took their offer.

So anyways, coupla me friends come in, Linwe an' Rikryn, an' they's chattin' a while. Then sudden like, I gets a funny feelin' about me, like I's too 'ot, an' me belly don't feel righ'. Tries ta get up an' make fer't door, but I finds me legs won' do what I's askin' 'em. Next thing I knows, I wakes up in't room upstairs in bed, all shiv'rin' an' shakin', wi' Linwe doin' 'ealer stuff to me an' forcin' tha' bloody nasty elven tea down me throat.

Them trickster drowfolk - they'd only gone an' poisoned me! *rolls eyes*

Well... I gots better anyways, got folk lookin' after me. Like I says ta tha' drowess... yer can't keep a minstrel down fer long...

An' I'll 'ave me counter strike yet... they best keep their ears open, 'cause I'll be singin' o' them to the citizens... an' epic, I reckons, cuttin' an' sharp off the tongue t'will be... When I's done wi' 'em, th'whole town'll be laughin' at the daft pair..."

The Realm of Erebos

S'nah so bad, this place I s'pose. Stables are nice an' warm. I misses the sea an' Port Maris, me ol' favourite hangout, but then comes a time when yer gots ta move on... at least I got some friends an' familiar faces around. I must say though, tha' walk up all them steps ta the tavern be a righ' pain in th'arse. Near fainted o' th'altitude t'other day... tho' migh' 'ave been the mead.

Same ol' bothers an' gripes. Me fleas be runnin' rife, but it be colder this far north an' they's suff'rin'... heh