A quiet conversation
Posted: Sun Jun 10, 2018 10:47 pm
The room upstairs at Madam Garah's is dark, lit only by a candle. The bed is neatly made, clothing stacked on the table at its foot. Water slowly cools in the bath in the corner, soap suds and scented oil still floating in it. An odd assortment of books are shelved nearby, with titles ranging from "The art of killing, a study of Grimgnaw" to "Waterdeep nobility, their feuds, foibles and influence" and "Bedside tales of Herald's Rest."
The room seems to be empty, but those whose sight is true would notice that two indistinct figures are there. The seated one is a dwarf, his beard tightly braided and glistening with oil. In his right hand he holds an ancient golden mug whose sides bead with condensation from the chilled ale within. The dwarf's left hand occassionally paases over the candle on the table at his side, causing the light to flicker. As the light flickers, the dwarf seems to fade in and out of the shadows.
Standing, facing the dwarf is a human. Or rather, the insubstantial figure of a handsome man of indeterminate age, a sword at his side a lyre on his back. From the pipe in his mouth barely seen wisps of smoke rise only to fade before they reach the ceiling.
"Alcidre," croaks the dwarf after taking a long pull from his mug, "I thin tha my friens 'ave nummered..." The Dwarf stops himself with a laugh clears his throat and continues, "Listen to me. I am so used to this game that I even talk to myself this way! But it has had its uses. As I suspected, speaking like an ignorant and uneducated savage would let me see how superficially people judge others. However, being right does not remove the sting of judgment."
Taking another pull from the still brimful mug, the dwarf continues, "I believe that I have had only four true friends in my life. you would be the first, Alcidre. You taught me how to look on the world with an eye to seeing beneath the surface. You taught me to read the writings of sages and to speak like a courtier. But most of all, you taught me that the world is wide and filled with wonders truly beyond imagining. You gave me a thirst for knowledge and adventure. A thirst that yet endures."
Sighing, the dwarf takes yet another long drink from the mug and continues, "The second friend I had was Avendur. Because you had openend my eyes to the possibility of friendship I was able to draw him away from his wood carving and into conversations. We were barely adults, but from that innocence a true friendship was able to blossom."
With a wide smile and a shake of his head, he continues, "The third was Cullen. A man who could make the most sullen dwarf smile and in the next sentence make a world weary harlot blush. He could sing of swashbuckling heros, but his heart knew a sadness that let him pull tears from the eyes of the most hardened warrior."
The dwarf falls silent for a long time. He holds the mug close to the candle and stares at it. In a hushed tone he says, "The fourth was Thorv. First a firend, then a brother and after death a cousin. He showed me what it means to be brave, setting an example I can never follow. In his purpose, he gave meaning to my life. But most of all, he showed me what true friendship and loyalty are. Because he expected me to be loyal to him, he would show nothing but the same for me. In battle there was never a truer blade, of that there is no question. But his loyalty extended beyond the moment and beyond the heat of battle. He would never sit idly by and watch a friend belittled. He would stand tall and never placing gold over friendship. In that there are few like him in this city or likely the world."
"So, Alcidre old friend, this is how you find me. My friends are three buried dead and a ghost. You taught me to open my eyes and heart to the rest of the world. Well, old friend, my eyes are more open than ever, but my heart is heavy with only the song of a nightbird left to bouy it."
The dwarf reaches out and snuffs the candle.
The room seems to be empty, but those whose sight is true would notice that two indistinct figures are there. The seated one is a dwarf, his beard tightly braided and glistening with oil. In his right hand he holds an ancient golden mug whose sides bead with condensation from the chilled ale within. The dwarf's left hand occassionally paases over the candle on the table at his side, causing the light to flicker. As the light flickers, the dwarf seems to fade in and out of the shadows.
Standing, facing the dwarf is a human. Or rather, the insubstantial figure of a handsome man of indeterminate age, a sword at his side a lyre on his back. From the pipe in his mouth barely seen wisps of smoke rise only to fade before they reach the ceiling.
"Alcidre," croaks the dwarf after taking a long pull from his mug, "I thin tha my friens 'ave nummered..." The Dwarf stops himself with a laugh clears his throat and continues, "Listen to me. I am so used to this game that I even talk to myself this way! But it has had its uses. As I suspected, speaking like an ignorant and uneducated savage would let me see how superficially people judge others. However, being right does not remove the sting of judgment."
Taking another pull from the still brimful mug, the dwarf continues, "I believe that I have had only four true friends in my life. you would be the first, Alcidre. You taught me how to look on the world with an eye to seeing beneath the surface. You taught me to read the writings of sages and to speak like a courtier. But most of all, you taught me that the world is wide and filled with wonders truly beyond imagining. You gave me a thirst for knowledge and adventure. A thirst that yet endures."
Sighing, the dwarf takes yet another long drink from the mug and continues, "The second friend I had was Avendur. Because you had openend my eyes to the possibility of friendship I was able to draw him away from his wood carving and into conversations. We were barely adults, but from that innocence a true friendship was able to blossom."
With a wide smile and a shake of his head, he continues, "The third was Cullen. A man who could make the most sullen dwarf smile and in the next sentence make a world weary harlot blush. He could sing of swashbuckling heros, but his heart knew a sadness that let him pull tears from the eyes of the most hardened warrior."
The dwarf falls silent for a long time. He holds the mug close to the candle and stares at it. In a hushed tone he says, "The fourth was Thorv. First a firend, then a brother and after death a cousin. He showed me what it means to be brave, setting an example I can never follow. In his purpose, he gave meaning to my life. But most of all, he showed me what true friendship and loyalty are. Because he expected me to be loyal to him, he would show nothing but the same for me. In battle there was never a truer blade, of that there is no question. But his loyalty extended beyond the moment and beyond the heat of battle. He would never sit idly by and watch a friend belittled. He would stand tall and never placing gold over friendship. In that there are few like him in this city or likely the world."
"So, Alcidre old friend, this is how you find me. My friends are three buried dead and a ghost. You taught me to open my eyes and heart to the rest of the world. Well, old friend, my eyes are more open than ever, but my heart is heavy with only the song of a nightbird left to bouy it."
The dwarf reaches out and snuffs the candle.
)