Original Fiction: Bard's Plights

**Opinionated** · 09-07-2006 06:58 PM

People underestimate the plight of traveling bards. I mean, they’re essentially hobos with instruments and a shred of talent. Sure, some lucky ones get permanent gigs with royals and nobles, but the rest are still hobos.

Bret was one such gig-less bard. After a long day of sitting on a street and playing his lute-tar and getting paid to stop, waiting about ten minutes to rest then starting again, rinsing, repeating, he needed a free drink. However, all the local restaurants had nothing free and the local well was iffy on whether it would poison you or not, or for that matter if you could get to it. Those creepy old ladies can be mean.

He walked to a local but not often used bend of the stream (which was always free and always open). He pulled a cup out from his pack(cheap cup) and dipped it into the water.

“What do you think you’re doing?” a shrill female voice demanded. Bret looked up, following the form of a water nymph. Oh. Crap. Nymphs were known for two things and not known for one: Being well built, hard to catch, and modesty.

“Well, getting a drink.” Just about the only explanation he could think up. Honestly, what else is he doing?

“Yeah, a drink of my water.” The nymph replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Your water? You never stopped me before!” Bret yelled. What good was Party Bend water if it wasn’t free?

“Well, because I haven’t been here before. The Powers That Be just transferred me here yesterday.” The nymph said, looking to the side, slightly embarrassed. “And I, for one, am not getting demoted to water sprite, so this is going to be the cleanest bend I can manage.”

“Well, good luck trying to keep people away. This is Party Bend! Where all the secondary school students come to party on spring break! Booze, chicks, music, money for me!” Bret said, laughing. “So, you better start liking people being around here now.”
He drank the water, then suddenly gagged. “Now, you’re bound to me and this stream, by drinking that water. Good luck living now.”

“Aw, come on! Can’t we deal or something?!” He couldn’t stay here! He needed to make money! “I mean, can’t you let me go into town at least?

“You can go into town for a few hours. But not any farther, idiot. Oh, and since I think we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, my names Elocin.” She said, sighing.

“Okay, my names Bret. So, uhm. You said you got transferred. Where and why?”

“From a pond about ten miles north. And I was a little… well… distracting…” Elocin flushed, her embarrassment obvious.

“Distracting as in… Oh, oh. Well… umm…”

Elocin’s eyes widened, then went pissed. “Don’t even THINK about it! I’m not getting demoted to a water sprite! I like all three of my dimensions!”

“Yes, your dimensions are very eye pleasing…” Bret commented, until a blast of water knocked him onto his back. Well, actually a piece of anatomy slightly lower.

“No perving! At all! That’s what got me demoted! So, unless you want to get dragged around with me from pond to pond, don’t perv, Bert.” She commanded.

“Okay, but you do know what this pond is, right? Party Bend? Monthly booze, chicks-“

“Music and money for you, I heard you the first damn time.” Elocin sighed. “So, you’re a bard, huh? Are you any good?”

“Well, I think I’m good. I’m one of the last masters of the Walking Strings Into The Sunset style of playing!”

“Walking Strings into the… Oh Powers, don’t tell me you’re one of those bards. The ones who are all ‘My style is better than yours, duh dur!’”

“It is one of the most difficult and rewarding lute-tar styles available…”

“Shut up, I don’t want to know about your pitiful life!”

“It’s not pitiful! I’m well respected among the ranks of lute-ists!” Bert boasted, trying to save his pride.

“Well… I don’t respect you yet, so yeah, your life is pitiful.” Elocin said lastly and finally.

And then, an event of awe and import occurred, but due to I, the Narrator’s use of cheap tactics, I’m not telling you what happens until the next chapter.