Her words would haunt me for years to come. “Some people will pass through your life. You will only know them for a short time. Try to enjoy that time.” Her words echo through my mind as if it were yesterday, her voice clear as the white of stars.
Ashlorien was a bard, a title so unbecoming that I never used the term until now. She was a singer and a dancer, more precious to me than air. My words come to you as a faint attempt to warn you against making the same mistake I made. If you have all the world’s wisdom, this tale is not for you. If your heart has ever been broken, or worse…I invite you to share in my misery. But first, some joy.
I met her in the warm spring at a library. As a fellow follower of the theatre, our lives were introduced to each other under the auspices of the great musicians, poets and playwrights of our time. Surrounded by the energy of literature and music, the stage was set for a binding of two souls.
She walked into the room and took notice of me. I was caught staring. She smiled at me and lowered her head. I watched as her hair cascaded down her shoulders. Strands of reddish-brown hair flowed beyond her waistline. I would never in my wildest dreams imagine that she would be interested in me. The voice of reason inside my head argued with the voice of passion. Back and forth they went while I tried to muster up the courage to go talk to her. I imagine the voice of reason lying on the floor of my mind, strangled to death as I spoke.
“Greetings.” Who says “greetings” idiot. I scolded myself. “You bear the mark of a musician.” I motioned to her elaborately tattooed wrist, fashioned in the shape of a bracelet, made up of hundreds of little musical notes and symbols.
“Yes!” She said with some excitement. “Do you play or sing?”
“Poorly, yes.” I replied. “I was once told if you can’t sing well, then you shouldn’t sing at all. But if you can sing horribly, who is going to stop you while the are laughing?” She giggled at my poorly-worded joke and averted her eyes again. She brought a painted thumb-nail to her lips and swayed her body. I smiled. Whether it was my looks or my charm that intrigued her I didn’t know or care, I was thrilled she was smiling at me. “In fact, you can come hear me tonight if you wish. I will be performing at the Oak Bench, it’s a small tavern east of Waterdeep.”
“Oh yes I know of it. What time do you play?”
“I play on ducks. On dusk--at dusk I mean.” It wasn’t my nature to mix up sounds and words. I decided I better cut the conversation short before I make a fool of myself. I smiled and turned to walk away.
“I didn’t catch your name.” She said as my back was turned.
With one quick motion I knifed my silver name badge from my bag and threw it to her. Its odd shape forced it to fly erratically and land away from her. I stumbled over to it fumbling with my torn bag and knife still in hand, putting them away as quickly as I could. As I bent over to pick it up I felt her hand on my back and the delicate tingle of her hair as it brushed against my left cheek. It smelled of wildflowers. My knees weakened and I nearly collapsed. “It appears even if I throw it to you, you still wouldn’t catch it. My name is Ferlesang.”
“This should be a good show, I will see you tonight.” I felt the blood blushing my cheeks begin to fade as I watched her every step. She turned to smile and wave as she left the library.
* * *
(more to come…)
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Wobb
"If you ever need a quick pick-me-up, just stick my balls in your mouth." --Chef, South Park
an untitled teaser
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