The three warriors stood side by side by side watching the magician.
He was flanked by the Valkery and the Fairy Queen. For an age no one
moved. The bards recorded the momentous occasion as an ice age and
a half passed around them all.
The left warrior was smaller and darker than the other two. His brown
hair kept falling into his dark brown eyes. He was known as Silence
the Assasain. No one ever crossed him and lived to tell about it. Yet
the magician had.
Silence had brought the rains down upon the Magician's home. Finicky
as he was the Magician had been appalled at the floods that had raged
over his homelands. His people were now weak and sickly. The Magician
(who mirrored his people) looked as tho' to be the Valkery's next gift
to Vahlhalla.
The mid warrior was a typical burly bronzed and blond Norseman. He
was fond of telling others his adventures. He claimed to have traveled
out of Midgard and to the stars. No one believed that one could travel
amongst the stars or the space that surrounded Midgard in such a short
time as a day.
Of the three warriors the one to the right--the one in front of the
Fairy Quinn--was the most dangerous. His dark form shifted constantly.
It was whispered he slid between the worlds. It was well known he had
once been in the lands of the Faene. For her part the Fairy Queen seemed
unruffled by him. In fact, she whispered a name that made him shudder.
Finally there was the Valkery. Her long blonde hair was confined by
a strip of leather. Her ice blue eyes were unforgiving as she raked
the three warriors and found them wanting.
Still they waited.
Finally the Bard came out of the inn, "Are you ladies going to
let them finish the pissing contest or are you gonna drag them in?
Table's free now."
"Come seeker of Tam Lin's shadow," the Fairy Queen beckoned
the dark shifting warrior. Against his will he followed her like a
sinner doing pennance for an ill he didn't know he'd committed.
The Valkery shrugged an motioned the burly Norseman to follow her
into the Inn. He spat in her direction before finding himself flat
on his back--the position he claimed to prefer his women in. Distinctly
uncomfortable, especially with the snickers of the locals following
him he rose and tried to saunter in after the Valkery.
This left only the Magician and the Assassain. Silence motioned politely
for the Magician to preceed him. Sardonically the Magician smiled.
A rune of warding protected his slight form. The Assasain was not fooled.
He recognized the whipcord strength hidden by the Magicians voluminous
robes.
Once inside the Inn the six looked around in various shades of awe.
The Bard sat in a corner tuning his intrument. The edge of his saber
peeked out of his pack. Those who are wont to collect stories often
had to protect themselves from sharing their work.
The table closest to the fire hosted a myriad of mercs. A most dangerous
woman seemed to control them all. Silence raised an eyebrow in surprise.
It had been whispered that all the folks in the Inn had been killed
by one of the Norseman's schemes. Of course this woman's body had been
conspicuously missing--it didn't explain the others being alive though.
A Hunter and his mate (it was said that she was from the Abysmal Plains)
sat in a far corner. They were curiously ambivelent about the six.
His mate watched the Fairy Queen disappear with some small satisfaction.
The Fairy Queen hadn't been meant for this battle. Soon enough others
entered the Inn. A Juggler and his traveling companion the Prophet.
They both had a knack for dropping their repsective balls (no pun or
slight intended) into the wrong stew pots often enough to offend warriors
and scholars alike. The Juggler was said to hold the record at seventy
nine small white balls. The Prophet scanned the crowd before finding
a group that might listen to his tales. The bard grunted and fingered
his saber lightly at the unintentional competition. The Prophet was
otherworldly and it wouldn't do to harm him.
A Scholar stuck his foot out and tripped the Juggler. Before the two
could fight a tiger loped in and sat between them. Neither would harm
the tiger, they knew her mistress would kill them with (they both shuddered
slightly) kindness. The partner of the tiger trainer, called only Bred
(many thought it was for the way she did her hair, but a few knew it
was for another reason) called the tiger and eyed the Scholar and the
Juggler. They wouldn't offend her for all the world.
The Chef and the Inn Keeper came around to all the tables. Patrons
kept their eyes from rolling while the chef meandered on (he could
go on forever about food). His wife the Inn Keeper drifted in and out
never staying long, just instering a comment or a reply. She most often
replied to the Cook.
The Cook and the Inn Keeper passed the table nearest the kitchen.
A Noble woman fed her prized pooch tidbits from her own meal. The Inn
Keeper "tsked" as next to the Noble Woman a young man seemed
to be brooding. His gray robes marked him as a Storm Caller. Another
scholar seemed to be nodding enthusiastically at everything said by
anyone around him. Every once in awhile the entire table would burst
into peals of laughter as he swept his hand through his tuft and commented
accuratly on the others spread throughout the room. The Noble woman's
traveling companion was whispering to the man next to her. He blushed
each time her fan whisked a miniature whirlwind into existence. He
kept counting his 62 coins as though a thief would snatch them at any
moment.
A couple sat at a table along the wall. They seemed so immersed in
each other that the rest of the world and the Inn didn't exist. She
kept toying with his upper lip and giggling. At their table a lone
figure sat and seemed to fight the urge to throw the dinner he'd eaten
up onto the floor. He kept trying to get the wheezing woman beside
him into a conversation. Every time he mentioned his bank she just
wheezed and coughed all the more.
At the last table sat a Russian woman. She steadily downed vodka and
it seemed to affect her not at all. She muttered about aliens, vampires
and impossible jobs. The five (for the Fairy Queen had dissapeared)
neared her. She was the one they sought. Only she could finish their
story and free them from exile. She only laughed maniacally at their
approach. She seemed to find their dilemma as humorous as her own.
____________________________________________________________
The author apologizes for not including descriptions of all the esteemed
members of this community, but it is late and she has run out of creativity.
Please do not feel slighted if you do not recognize yourself. Perhaps
you are not looking closely enough.
ktf
Tigs
ps. Would you like another installment or should I leave them begging
the exiled Queen (she's from Tula not Faene).
©Tigs 2000