The Minstrel's Muse By: Pent Ghelsburg
Disclaimer: The characters depicted in this work are purely fictional. Any resemblance to persons alive or dead is purely coincidental. They are the original and rightful intellectual property of their creators. I use them with permission and respect. This work involves underaged characters and minor depictions of simplified violence. You have been warned.
A song has been sung….a tale has been woven….a story awaits to be told. A flickering flame in the corner of the tavern cracks and flickers as the patrons of the place gather around it. The many regulars of the place had come to know the place as one of the fanciful stories, especially when it came to the sheer entertainment value they offered. To some they were known as the weavers of fiction…yet to others, they were known as the keepers of truth.
So this was the way of the bard. Those whose hand at instruments was famed and their skills were their tongue were even more infamous. Yet the life of a bard was one of mystery. An experience known only to those who dared to live the life of song. But to those who picked up to play the flute nor even the lute, they dare not share too much less the mystery about them be revealed.
Shaze was a member of the Brotherhood of the Lute. A not-so-clandestine club of bards who picked up the string instrument of the same name to tell their tales. At 15 years of age, the teen was one of the youngest members of the troupe. Yet, even despite that the German Shepard teen had lived a life that once he had shared had become one of the most popular shows in the entirety of the group.
He strummed his lute in the corner, chewing on a small apple as he tried to soften up the crowd. Shaze was a charismatic boy, one whose voice and vocal cords carried well beyond the normal scope of a teen his age. Some of the audience before him, tossed coins into his case. Ever so beckoning him to tell the tale of how he was once lost….and then found.
Several years before in the forests of Iredon, Shaze was found astray by a nomadic clan of wood elves. The elves had found the young cub abandoned by his family, for what reason neither would ever learn. Still, it was unlike the elvish way to abandon a child in need and so they adopted the small puppy, taking them into their clan as if he was one of their own.
Shaze had grown up knowing naught but the elvish way of life. He was the only one of the clan who was not an elf. A difference he began to notice as became older and more self-aware. In his youth, his mother taught him the finer skills in life such as weaving and tailoring. His father on the other hand taught him the ways of hunting and survival.
As he grew older, Shaze became friends with the clan's bard. A tall lanky elvish woman who played a harp. The instrument she played was almost as large as she was. The thing was carved from the very heart of an oak tree, strung with the very fibers from its core. Yet even despite its primal nature, the tune it gave off was something of a sickly sweet nature.
As he neared his 11th Summer, Shaze was introduced to the instrument and despite no training, he took to the thing like a natural. He was able to pick up the lessons the clan's bard taught him without issue. Taking every tune and putting very little effort into them before learning them in their entirety. It was almost as if he was a natural and this was not something that went unnoticed by the headmistress.
On his 12th name day, the boy was tasked with the usual coming-of-age ceremony that had been tasked to elves of the same age as he. Shaze was brought out was night while the whole of the clan sat around an open fire. The entirety of the wood elf village watched as the German Shepard emerged from his family's thicket home and approached the headmistress who sat at the center of the event.
The boy approached the old woman. Her gray hair was poorly kept around her and her eyes lacked color. The elderly woman stood on a staff, holding onto the thing for support. Two thick idols with jagged teeth of animals killed long ago hung from a thick hempen rope. Her breathing was heavy and her gaze remained fixed on the cub as the dog made his way towards her.
"Dog Child. You come here today to receive your rite of passage. Your task to become a member of the tribe is to slay the wary Worgen of the Woods. When it is felled…you are to bring its hide back with you as a trophy. Remember well where it has been slain, so that we may use it in its entirety." The woman said with a raspy voice.
Shaze rolled his eyes. He hated that nickname more than anything yet he remained silent. The shaman waved her overly large staff causing the ornaments hanging off it to clatter together with hollow thud. She then motioned her staff forward and two of the nearby elves to the side of her whisked in to take the boy away. They grabbed him by the arms, leading him away from the tribal grounds where he'd spent much of his youth.
When they finally came to a stop, one of them handed him a small bow with a quiver of arrows in it. They left him without a word. The boy had been trained in the way of tracking just like every member of his clan was. Yet sitting there in the darkness of the woods, he felt a bit lost. Thinking back to the ritual itself, the whole thing made him feel upset and entirely alone.
The German shepherd stood there idly for a minute. No part of him wanted to take part in what he saw as a stupid ritual. He had no desire to kill a living being. Sure, he'd seen his parents do it before. The necessity of the hunt was something he'd grown up learning to appreciate. Still, he had no interest in it and quickly tossed the bow and arrow to the sides.
Shaze thought to himself, figuring there had to be a way to get around the necessity to kill something. An idea suddenly formed in his head. What if he returned to the tribal grounds…and stole what he needed? After all much of the tribe had treated him rather poorly except his foster family. He was certain he could pull it off without being caught.
The cub smirked as he had decided. He could still see the flicker of flame in the distance and began making his way towards it. Shaze made a quick dart towards the camp, only slowing down when he was close enough to hear the people within speaking. It was completely dark outside except for the roaring flame at the center of it. He knew he had to use the lack of light to his advantage. Still, he wasn't entirely sure where to start looking.
Shaze decided to start at the clan cleric's longhouse. The cleric's residence was the largest in the village and the one where the clan kept their food stores. The cub kept close to the floor crouching on his hind legs to keep himself from being seen. His progress was slow but steady and he continued around the perimeter of the village just outside the back of several of the tribal homes. Since all of the houses looked the same it was difficult to gauge where he was as.
Eventually, he arrived at a large thatched building. Its roof was unmistakably the clerics as it was the only one in the place that wasn't flat. The dog peered his head around the corner, looking around the edge of the home. The village didn't normally keep guards and he was almost certain the place would have no one inside. Besides…all of the village was supposed to be preparing to celebrate his return.
The cub took a deep breath before picking himself up and running as quickly as he could from the rear of the house to the front. There were no doors to any of the buildings inside the village so sneaking inside was easy enough. Once he had made his way through the front of it, he stopped to catch his breath. Calming himself so that he made as little noise as possible. It took him a moment for his nerves to settle before he moved once again.
Shaze continued through the long corridor of the side of the house. It led him into the store vault. Inside it smelt like damp wheat and hay and some dried meats mixed in. The aroma of it was quite overwhelming and he had to pinch his nose to deal with it. Looking around he saw the corpse of a large stag and wondered if the thing could be used to sit in for the supposed Worgen he was allegedly going to kill.
He went over towards it. The thing had been preserved by whatever magic had been cast on it by the clan shaman. A small pelt covered it, placed on it by whoever brought it in to keep bugs from infesting it. Like the animal itself, it too was treated by a similar magic. He reached out to grab the pelt, hoping it would suffice for the hide that he needed to present to the tribe as his trophy.
The moment he opened his nose, he sneezed. The overwhelming but pungent aroma of whatever herbs had been used to keep it preserved was too much for him. Shaze's heart stopped. He was certain he would be discovered. The dog picked up the hide, figuring he could escape without being seen. Running as quickly as he could bolting out the way he came.
Shaze had lost all sense of reason in his sense of panic. He did not bother to look out the front of the building before he fled from it. The moment he set foot outside of it he was seized by two of the townspeople who took him as a thief. Of course, the moment they set their eyes on him they knew all too well who it was. Immediately the two of them brought him to the clan's shaman to be judged.
The dog was forcefully set down in front of her. The hide he had taken from the storeroom was presented to the woman by the two who had taken him there. Shaze looked at her and she back at him. The gaze on her face was one of disgust as she spat at him. The boy had betrayed their trust and in their society, there was no place for it. She simply pointed out the front door and the two escorts immediately knew what to do.
The German shepherd was escorted out from the small hot back into the village proper. The entire village seemed like it was out and about. Even the boy's adopted family stood outside their usual home, staring at the cub as if he were a pariah. Shaze hung his head low. The guilt inside him had compounded and he regretted the choice he made. Still, he knew there was little he could do about it.
The two elves led him out of the
village and far enough away from it before dumping him on the ground. Without a word, the two escorts were gone. They had left him with nothing except the clothing on his back. Shaze felt entirely alone and isolated, not knowing what to do. So he began wandering, searching for a new purpose.
Shaze wandered those woods with a forlorn sense of longing about him. He had traveled these woods and he knew his way around them for the most part. The German shepherd was very much an empty shell of his former self. The guilt within him overrode any sense of reason he harbored. The only thing keeping him going was the primal desire to survive.
It was several days that he went on like this, eating and drinking the bare minimum to just get by. The cub's already lithe form diminished from lack of food consumption. One day he was following along a river until he happened upon a small campsite. The unfamiliar sound of strumming in the distance and the flickering flame from within were like a beacon of hope. Without a second thought, he picked up pace and headed towards it.
The dog was welcomed by a traveling band of bards who had made their way into the woods on their way to their next show. Shaze instantly felt very much at home and the cub's love of instruments and music played into him fitting in with the group. They even trained him in the way of the string instrument beyond the harp, since that was the only he'd grown up learning.
A little more than 3 years had passed now and Shaze was now a regular member of the Brotherhood of the Lute. His stylings of rhymes, rhythms, and dancing had become somewhat of a popular attraction in the realm. The teen had very much enjoyed the attention he received and lived a life of luxury from the fine tips that he got from his various shows over the past.
He was just finishing up another show and the coins were being thrown towards the small bag where he kept his lute when he wasn't using it. The audience that was listening to him only moments ago had begun to disperse. Shaze could hear them all complimenting his show and how great of a musician he was. But another conversation seemed to catch him off guard.
"Did you hear about the Wood Elves of Iredon? Word has it the Serpent of the Spire had visited them."
The name instantly brought the memory of his former life back into his memory. It was the very same clan he had grown up with.
"De' old Serpent let loose on 'em. Raze der' village e' did."
A sense of concern filled his mind. Even despite what had happened during his youth, there was a part of Shaze that cared for his old tribe. He picked up his instrument and stashed it in the carrying bag that holstered the lute. The dog holstered it over his arm and made his way over to the barkeep to pay his stay. He didn't know what he could do to help his old tribe but he knew he couldn't just sit around idly after hearing the rumors from the townspeople.
Shaze made his way out of the tavern and through the streets of the town. It was already dusk so the lanterns lit his way through the dirt paved roads in between the homes that dotted around the place. He passed by several other people who paid him no mind. The German shepherd was deep in thought, considering his next action as he made his way out of the town.
The dog tried to recall his training as a bard. There were songs of the Serpent of the Spire, just as there were songs of every fabled beast of old. It's true name, Cyrovain...had been lost to time. The tune is sung of its ferocity and its impulsive nature. The beast's bulbous belly and dulled teeth belied its true disposition. To any who did not know the old dragon, they might think it was well past its prime.
Yet, this most recent incident was evidence of just the opposite. Shaze tried remembering the rest of the tune. The song spoke of the dragon's temperament and the ways the knights of old had not been spared its rage. Even the court Alchemists had not been able to quell its fury. Only one tale spoke of a maiden who had come to the elder wyrm, seemingly able to sing the thing to sleep.
This one story gave Shaze some hope. He wondered if he could play the thing music, perhaps to convince it to stop its rage. It was a tall hope but he had to trust the stories that he strung his lute to. The teen knew that some of the songs had some element of fiction to them. He just had to hold out on this particular one being truthful so that he might be able to redeem himself.
Shaze took up a steed at the local stables. He paid the keep a few coins, promising to return the beast later the next day. With that he was on his way, following the various signs towards Iredon. The woods of the region were not a far ride and the familiar sight of the large trees encompassing the entrance brought him a sense of anxiety. Even so, he steeled himself and cracked the reins as he urged his steed to go faster.
Once he was inside the Iredon Woods themselves, he felt a bit lost. It had been several years since he ventured into the forests. He only vaguely remembered the place from the perimeter of it. The clan had only taught him of the immediate surroundings of the tribal village. Shaze tried to think of something that might help him find his way to his old home.
The teen remembered that old stream that went through the forest. It was the constant landmark his old foster family had spoken about. He knew if he could find that, that it would lead him to the old tribal grounds where he lived. Shaze continued to guide the horse aimlessly around the woods in hopes of finding it. It was a little over an hour before he heard the sound of running water.
That sound was like music to the teen's ears. Immediately the dog snapped the reins on the horse, causing it to pick up pace. He headed in the direction of the sound, keeping towards it as it became louder. Once he was in distance of it, he headed downstream as he followed the current of the water. A familiar wooden bridge soon scaped over the small stream. It was then he realized he knew where he was.
Shaze headed over the small bridge, the horse galloped as quickly as it could. Soon he found himself in front of the old tribal village. Before him, he saw the sight of the broken-down buildings and thatched huts of his former home. He could hear the bellowing of the Serpent nearby. He assumed the dragon had to be somewhere around. Without any hesitation, he rode into the destruction.
Arriving at the village itself, he found no signs of anyone around. Yet, there were no signs of death. The tribal grounds seemed entirely vacant of anyone. The teen assumed this meant they must have fled upon the arrival of the old Serpent. But he also knew the ordeal was far from over. In the distance, he could see the spine on the tail of the Serpent who was still thrashing about.
The gray-scaled elder wyrm led out a loud bellow causing the horse to be spooked. The German shepherd was bucked from his horse as the thing neighed and kicked him off. Shaze watched as it galloped into the distance, away from the scene of the destruction. Slowly the dragon turned around as the sudden noise from the horse attracted its attention.
Shaze picked himself up, staring right into the faint gaze of the dragon's eyes. The creature's gaze was entirely glazed over as if it were completely blind. Its teeth showed from its maw, many of them were chipped. Its scales were gray and worn. The only bulk on it was at the belly of its lengthy chest. It was quite evident how old the Serpent was.
The beast bellowed at him. Its elongated groan was far from a terrifying roar. Shaze wasn't intimated by it at all. Taking out his instrument in hopes he could get the beast to leave the grounds. The creature began to approach him, its slow and methodical steps bringing it ever closer to the small teen. The dog gulped as he strapped the lute over his shoulder and started to play.
"O' merry me…O' carry me…O'ver hills wide…and valleys deep. Bury the old blades deep….and tarry them through."
"O' take me…O' make me…'Cross rivers swift…and oceans vast. Toss arrows through soaring skies…to their marks."
"Be b' side me…don't D'ride me…Stand together…as one. Band united…and so do us all.."
The melody was sung with the constant strumming of the lute at the teen's chest. His song was sickly sweet. The tune was equally just as catchy. The old Serpent stood there aghast as if were dumbfounded. Never had it heard such a song before. Shaze looked at it, the beast's eyes were completely glazed over. It was almost as if it was in a trance.
The German shepherd continued playing his song, keeping up the repetition of the chorus, and noticed that when he moved so did the dragon. Taking this to his advantage he began to lead the thing out of the village. Its lanky body swished back and forth as it slithered through the sand. Shaze continued leading the beast onward to a nearby cave, a cave he had learned of as a child.
The cave was off-limits to the tribe members. Yet he no longer harbored this issue. He figured if he could get the beast inside, he could seal off the entrance and lock the thing inside. Shaze led the thing over to it, easily keeping its attention with the song he played. Once inside he looked around for anything that might cause a makeshift rock slide. He needed time….and so he played the dragon a lullaby.
As soon as the Serpent was asleep, Shaze got to work. The dog stopped playing with his lute and climbed the side of the rock face to the top of the cave. Pushing the boulders on top of it so that it blocked the entrance. Satisfied with his work, he made his way back to the tribal grounds to check for survivors. He could only hope that they had fled as he originally thought they did.
When he returned, he was greeted by a small band of them. An elderly woman now carried the old Shaman's staff. Her hair grayed…but she did not seem to resemble the woman who had exiled him. Nay the woman looked like his adopted mother. The two stared at each other before both of them realized who the other was. Only moments after, the two shared a loving embrace as a mother and son often would.
Shaze was welcomed back to the village as a hero. The old clan which had ostracized him previously now greeted him with open arms. Many of them had watched his deeds from afar and were fully aware it was he who saved them. Of course, he knew he would never fully embrace the tribal life again. He very much enjoyed his new calling and they would have to understand that.
The dog would stay the night with his old family. The three of them shared stories and caught up on old times. Shaze even played them a tune, a skill they never realized he had. When the next morning came, the dog was seen off early in the morrow. A soft hug was shared between him and his old parents. He promised to return occasionally and went on his way.
And…so the tale was told. The audience before him clapped at him and cheered an encore for more. Shaze's charismatic nature sometimes got the better of him and he was caught up with things. Still, each time he told the tale it sometimes made him feel a little bit emotional. The dog wiped his eye as he put away his instrument, getting up to return to the guild and promising to return another day with an even more captivating tail.
