It was late, and Ludwig’s Royal Inn and Publick House was packed as usual. A line stretched into the merry streets of Brunwich, where audiences gathered to watch fire-eaters and sword-swallowers at their art.
A young Dwarf jostled his way to the front of the line. A fiddle was strapped to his back, and a lyre hung from a loop on his belt.
Raucous shouting and singing poured out of the tavern. Inside, the Dwarf could see a throng of men talking, singing, and sloshing ale down their gullets. They surrounded a long central table, upon which a Gnome and a Halfling walked circles around each other, playing a wicked fiddle duet. Behind them men supported their song with drums, harps, and banjos. The two were singing, but their voices were barely heard over the merry chants of the crowd that sang along.
“Let me in there!” The Dwarf said gruffly to the tall Half-Orc who stood before the door. “It’s very important!”
The Half-Orc raised an eyebrow. “Get in line first.”
“This line stretches on fer hours!”
“That isn’t my concern.”
“It is of great importance!”
The Half-Orc crossed his arms. “Look, buddy, I’m not going to say this again. Get in line, or get out of my sight.”
The Dwarf grumbled. This wasn’t going to get him anywhere.
“Hey, you!” He shouted through the noise, pointing a finger at the pair of bards upon the table. His voice was loud, louder than you’d expect from one of his size, and it broke through the din of the tavern easily.
The music faltered. The two looked his way curiously, and their faces filled with dread when they saw the Dwarf. The music stopped entirely. The singing patrons of the Inn slowly quieted, looking about in confusion.
“Yeah, you!”
“Alright, bud-” Said the Half-Orc, reaching for his mace.
“No, no, let him in,” Said the Halfling.
“Are you sure, Mister Longears?” Said the Half-Orc warily.
“Yes.” Said Mister Longears, his face grave. “Aren’t we, Eril?” Eril gave a cautious nod.
Slowly the Half-Orc stepped aside, and the Dwarf made his way into the Pub. The crowd cleared a path between the Dwarf and the musicians.
“Long time, no see, Becker!” Mister Longears proclaimed with forced casualness and a nervous laugh.
“You!” The Dwarf named Becker growled angrily a third time. He turned to the Halfling. “Eble Longears.” He turned to the Gnome. “And Eril Button.” His words dripped malice.
“Well, we sure are glad to see you!” Eril chimed in in an equally strained tone. “It has been some time since our… last meeting!”
“Aye!” Said Becker, smiling menacingly. “It has. And it’s time ye got what ye earned! For I have been playing and picking my fiddle fer a year since ye two devils outplayed me. I thrive more than e’er, now, no thanks to you.”
“Well!” Said Eble awkwardly. “That’s… excellent, then.”
Becker continued immediately. “But I have not forgotten my humiliation, no!” He turned to his audience. “For these two bloody vagrants conjured a bloody tail on my backside, ter humiliate me more after my defeat!” He turned his back to the audience and lowered his pants, showing a fox’s tail that had sprouted from his tailbone. The audience winced, gasped and groaned. A bead of sweat ran down Eble’s face.
“What’s this all about, lads?” Shouted the bartender. “I don’t want any trouble!”
“Oh, I’ll tell ye what this is about.” Growled Becker. “The tale begins thus, one year ago! It was in my hometown of Derwood, a pretty little city far superior to this rathole I’m in now, and I was the town’s Bard! The people loved me, and I was heralded as a great player of me time. But then I heard rumors of the famed Eble Longears and Eril Button, and how they were coming to Derwood in two days.” He paused to catch his breath.
“Well, I had heard of the rascals, and I planned to show them who was the alpha Bard in Derwood. And so they arrived in town, and I met the pair. I disliked them instantly, but I knew that I could beat them in a fiddle duel and so I paid them no mind. I challenged them to the duel, and they accepted for the following day!” Becker put his tail away, turned to the audience, and continued.
“Well, the day of the duel dawned, and the village assembled to witness it. A stage was made and advertisements were hung. At twelve o’clock precise the duel began, and long story short, the bastards won!”
“We don’t care!” Somebody in the crowd shouted. The rest of the throng voiced their agreement. Becker sent a glare so fierce in their direction that the jeering immediately ceased. He resumed his story.
“God I hate to admit it, but their music was brilliant! It was an honour to lose to two so skilled.” Becker said with a small, unexpected bow in Eble’s and Eril’s direction.
“There’s just one small problem with that.” He said quietly, and the room went silent as people listened closely.
“Ye. Gave. Me. A. Damn. TAIL!”
Eble and Eril winced, giving mumbled excuses.
“You two really did that to him?” Somebody from the crowd shouted angrily.
“It was just a joke, mate!” Eble said.
“Yeah, it was… just a bit of fun!” Said Eril.
The tavern went into an uproar. Becker showed his backside to the gathering again, and men and women shouted and threw food at the Halfling and the Gnome.
Finally, Becker made his voice heard over the roar of the crowd. “Quiet!”
The tavern’s patrons stopped, waiting to hear what he had to say.
“Now, I am not here just ter complain!” The Dwarf continued. “I am here ter win back me honour and show these two lowly minstrels a real bard. I ‘av spent day and night perfecting me art, and the time has come to prove it!” The crowd cheered. Becker paused to survey his enemies’ reactions.
Eble and Eril looked at each other and gulped.
“He means business.” Eril observed gloomily.
“Yeah,” Said Eble. “Something tells me that this won’t be the cakewalk of last time.”
“No.”
Becker smiled mockingly to the bards. “Well, my lads, if ye ‘ave the stomach fer it, how about another go-round with the fiddles?”
“Do it!” Someone from the crowd shouted. “If you have the skin, that is!” Others voiced their agreement.
“Well,” I suppose we must!” Shouted Eble to the gathered. “A shame we’ll have to humiliate old Becker again, though!” This sent a multitude of “Ooh!”s and “He didn’t!”s through the room. Eble winked to his partner.
“Well, then, push up a table!” Eble shouted down to some drunks in the corner. “Give him a stage!”
The drunks complied, pushing together two large tables for Becker’s use. The crowd cleared him a path to his makeshift stage, and he hopped upon it gracefully before proceeding to rausen up his bow.
“Are you ready?” Eble whispered quietly to Eril.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Responded his friend. “What tune shall we play?”
“Let’s go with Tidas’s Shanty.” Said Eble. “That oughta impress, and we haven’t played it in a while.” Eril Nodded.
They both took deep breaths before turning back to the crowd.
“Ye play first.” Becker growled, eyeing the two menacingly.
Eble tapped his foot three times in rhythm, and then began to play. His song was wild and mischievous, and soon Eril joined in, adding a slower undertone to his friends’ shanty. The music went up and down, telling a story with no words. The song sent the younger men in the pub into dreams of far-off adventures waiting to be had, and the elder denizens were reminded of forgotten, wild memories of their youth.
Finally they finished on one final, triumphant note before looking up at Becker. The room resounded as the audience cheered.
The Dwarf’s grin had been steadily growing as he watched them play. He let it out with a guffaw as his rivals finished.
“How quaint!” He exclaimed, quieting the publick house again. “I shouldn’t have even wasted me time coming here! I’ve faced many a bard more skilled than ye since last year. My, ye’ve sure lost yer touch!” The assembled drew in breath as Eble and Eril glared angrily across the room at Becker.
“If it’s like that, then show us what you’ve got!” Shouted Eril at the Dwarf. “If your music’s as bad as your speech, my ears will be bleeding for weeks!”
Tensions were high as Becker raised his bow, took a deep breath, and began to play. The song started slow and mysterious, but grew into a quicker jive that seemed as if it might accompany a forgotten nursery rhyme. Although Becker’s music was unaided by a second fiddle, he compensated with speed and skill.
The pace of his song increased, and his brow beaded with sweat as he rained down precisely timed notes on his listeners. His blow flew and slid along the strings.
He raised the intensity to a high unlike anything Eble or Eril had heard before. The sound was like cold fire, beautiful and sharp. It rose and rose and rose before Becker ended it triumphantly with a set of three sharp crescendos.
There was a moment of silence, and then the crowd cheered wildly, far louder than they had for Eble and Eril. Someone in the throng started chanting Becker’s name, and it was quickly taken up by the rest of the guests. The Dwarf huffed and puffed with exertion, but he beamed with pride the whole time. The winner was clear.
All three bards hopped down off their tables and met in the middle. Eble and Eril bowed to Becker. There would be no honour in trying to deny their defeat. They each flipped him a gold coin, as was customary for the loser in a music duel.
“Congratulations, Becker.” Eble said glumly. “We have seldom found our equal in song.”
“I thank ye both as well!” Becker said merrily. His angry demeanor had left him, revealing a merry young dwarf. “Ter tell ye the truth… I was never as angry about the tail as I let on. I probably would’ve done the same in yer shoes.”
Eble looked at Eril, confused. “You weren’t? Then why…”
“Ah, I jest wanted ter give them a good show!” He said, gesturing at the crowd. “After all… what more does a good bard want?”
Slowly, the confused looks on Gnome’s and Halfling’s faces turned to laughter. As the crowd took up a favorite drinking chant, the three clapped each other’s shoulders, laughing harder than the sun.
“Come on, mates! Let’s get drinks.” Becker said, and the three filed over to the tipsy line for a good pint of ale.
. . .
Fifteen minutes later, the three short men sat down with brimming mugs at a small table in the corner.
“-and so, we were thinking, Becker,” Eble was saying as he settled in, “You’re a fine fiddler, and a right raucous Dwarf…”
“Yea, and one with fiery spirit as well!” Added Eril.
“Yes, that too,” Said Eble. “And so, we were wondering… might you like to join us as partners and friends? We’d be happy to have you- you sure proved your skill tonight!” The Halfling smiled hopefully.
Becker looked warily back and forth between the two. “This is a jest, right?”
The two bards’ faces fell. “Oh. I see. Of course, if you don’t want to-”
“Of course I do!” Becker shouted happily.”Why do you think I came here in the first place? To regain my honour? Partially. To remove the tail? Nah, I’ve gotten used to it, and it’s a funny trick. To prove myself to the famed Eble Longears and Eril Button? What more could a bard hope for!”
“Well, then, it’s settled! You’re one of us!” Exclaimed Eril. “To the Fiddlers Three!” He raised his mug.
“The Fiddlers Three!” Repeated the other two.
They talked, drank, and sang late into the night.
