The two bickering individuals that entered the inn on a late evening, didn’t caught anyones attention. They seemed like travellers, but on a closer look they may have been beggars. The two did not sell anything, didn’t carry anything of value, except perhaps a book that the young, slender man was carrying. One of them had the unwashed hair of a street urchin and a wild beard. He had a worn scabbard on his hip that he handed over to the innkeeper. They both ordered a beer and took it to the nearest available table. Which was closest to the door, and furthest from the hearth in the middle of the building. They both stared around for a while and nipped at their drinks, when a bard came to the middle and spread his arms.

‘Folks from far and wide, whilst inside we hide. From rain and clouds and foggy bogs, from bears and wolves and giant dogs. Come to me as I sing a song, and be amused the whole night long!’

While he yelled the last line, one of the two individuals (the one with the beard)said; ‘hope it wont take that long.’ The two giggled and sipped some more.

‘There, who has any requests?’ he asked the crowd. The people yelled many things, and nobody really know what was requested or by whom. But the bard sprang up and ran to an empty chair. He dragged it to the middle, then grabbed his lute. He coughed.

So there was a hero

Or so he thought himself to be

He tried to bed every woman

From here to the frozen sea

He was ought to slay dragons

But didn't find one yet

Cause these legendary beasts

Had their fate already met

Yet he came here, bragging

About all his forged feats

Nagging and begging

For the attention that he needs

Oh, the lands would be better off

With one fraud less

May he disappear from our mids

May we be ridden from this pest

The people clapped. And the bard bowed. ‘Thank you, kind people!’

‘Booh!’ one man yelled. The other whispered something in an angry tone. The bard immediately noticed the two. Needlessly to say whom they were.

The charismatic bard almost danced towards their table and sat on the empty chair next to them.

‘So, you didn’t enjoy my chanson?’ he asked. The people clapped and yelled.

‘No, not at all, I mean, we loved it!’ Garvin said.

‘I didn’t!’ the Dragonslayer said.

‘Why not?’ the bard asked, acting hurt and surprised. ‘This is one of my bests songs!’

‘I mean.. we hear this song everywhere..’ Garvin said, whilst looking at his companion with big eyes.

‘But others have sung it better,’ the Dragonslayer added. This made the people stand up and slander the two. Garvin sighed, it seemed that getting slandered was becoming a pastime activity.

‘What are your names, travellers?’ the bard asked.

‘Smiel!’ the Dragonslayer said immediately. ‘Smiel Smorfendorf.’

‘And who is the slender guy at your side?’ the bard asked, slightly taken aback of this strange name.

‘Garvin, just Garvin.’

‘I see, its a popular name in Greed, I believe. Your accent surely comes from that region. What brings you here?’

‘Business.’

‘And what do you do in life?’

This time Dragonslayer answered. ‘We are writing a book called the most worthless bards in all of Ar’Moor. And you have a chance to be the first!’

The people laughed with this banter.

‘Very witty!’ the bard said. ‘Why don’t you sing a song for us, then?’

Garvin shrank like a snowman in the sun. But the Dragonslayer got up and finished his beer. For a second he seemed frozen as the people cheered, then he finished Garvin’s drink as well. He bashed the mug on the table and wiped his mouth. The people cheered.

‘Lets make this more interesting instead. If the people more enjoy our song, we will take the coins.’ The Dragonslayer stared at Garvin with a smile. He did not smile back.

‘Very well, I accept the challenge!’ the bard cried out. The people cheered and ordered more drinks. The innkeeper seemed pleased with the turn of events, he filled many tankards and his staff scattered around the place distributing them.

The bard got in the middle, and grabbed his lute again. Under loud cheering of people getting drunk, he started to sing.

I found a humble bumblebee

Who lifted a girl's skirt

It looked a bit awkward at first

But at least she didn't get hurt

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

The bumblebee was humming

As he saw her precious part

He was worried and exited

And quite happy she didn't fart

But the bumblebee got tired

Since he held the skirt too long

He then cashed to the ground

The girl nearly stepped upon

She then picked the bee back up

And put him on her thigh

The bee was woozy yet happy

And slept till he could fly

The bard jumped off the stairs and the people clapped and whistled. Garvin stared at the Dragonslayer, his expression said everything; we cant best that. But the Dragonslayer just grabbed a small stool, it seemed he wanted to use it as drums. Garvin gulped and wondered if that meant that he..

‘A song!’ the people yelled. He was in the middle of a crowd, there was no avoiding. Then he thought that no one knew him anyways, and by tomorrow they would be gone. In a few days it would be forgotten, at least by him. He closed his eyes as the Dragonslayer started to rhythmically beat the stool. Garvin was concentrating on his feet, scared to fall from the chair, but frankly what scared him more was seeing the people look at him.

He sang the only song he knew. Although it was an anti Dragonslayer song, he didn’t care. It was his fault they were in this mess anyways. But then he forgot that song, and just sung what came out of his mind. Sometimes it was completely off, yet as he continued to sing, he relaxed. He let his mind envision the words that he said aloud in a semi musically tone. It was good enough, apparently, because the people cheered.

Bloodstained are these deranged

So-called-friends-you-speak-of

One is poor, one is dirty

Still they take on a gang of thirty

So to speak, they slither and wither

Steal-a-sword,-raid-a-town,-nap-on-grass

Your friends, nothing but sacred and scarred

In the rubble of love, an affiliation of affairs

Scared to drink from the river side

Yet feast around the fire on the hilltop

Fall asleep under the watchful stars

Who accompany them in every adventure

Sleep-walking-death-wishing-creepers

Sunstrokes are but funny jokes

Who is the maiden that cools their forehead

She must have nerves of steel and balls of thunder

The people had never hear this before but seemed to enjoy it. Garvin stepped off the chair with a lot less bravado as the bard. He landed on the side of his foot and almost fell, but the Dragonslayer held his hand up. Everyone cheered, especially with the balls of thunder bit.

‘Give it up for my man!’ the Dragonslayer yelled and the people cheered. Garvin tried to blend back in the crowd, feeling dizzy.

People slapped him on the shoulder like he just ran a marathon.

‘Very good!’ the bard said. ‘But now its my turn again!’ As much as he tried to keep his demeanour up, Garvin could see his ears had turn red. He never thought he had it in him to speak like this to a crowd. Not out of necessity, and without anything to say. The last time he did speak in public, they were banished from one of the biggest cities in Ar’Moor. But what he enjoyed most was the Dragonslayer complimenting him. He had never done that before, come to think of it. Maybe it was the booze, Garvin thought. The Dragonslayer drank a whole tankard at once, barely spilling any beer. When he slammed the tankard down, his nose had beer foam all over it.

The bard played a chord, and the people turned their attention towards him again. This time, he really put on a show. He jumped on the chair, danced all over the place and somehow managed to have enough breath left to sing as loud as he could. Garvin was impressed. Soon the bard was panting on the side, the people were louder than ever. The Dragonslayer finished his drink and stepped forth. ‘Okay, you guys like to have songs about the Dragonslayer, huh?’

The people cheered.

‘Luckily I know a good one, we all know how that one goes! Clap along!’

He wasn’t gonna stain his own name though? Garvin thought. But apparently he did, much louder than the bard, and with a clearly drunken tone. Yet somehow still passable. But he did not stand on the chair. A wise choice, so Garvin thought.

It was a night

When he came to town

With a frown on his brow

And no horse but a cow

Where is your steed?

The women cried

I'm sorry to say

But the beast just died

And where is your sword?

The men all asked

I lost it in the river

Failing my task

And what about your shiny mail

Children begged to know

I forgot it somewhere, between

The mountains and the snow

I forgot from what I flew

Which is foolish, yet true

Can somebody tell me where I am

For I don’t know the land, nor what to do!

It felt weird, hearing him sing that one. Like reading your diary out loud. Garvin just sat there silently and scratched his neck, whilst the people went utterly nuts.

‘It appeared I have won the contest!’ the Dragonslayer yelled in his ear, which wasn’t unnecessarily. ‘We get the coins!’

Then his companion disappeared in the crowd. Everyone was offering him more drinks. The bard, however was nowhere to be seen.

‘Here you go, lad,’ the Innkeeper said to him. ‘The bards money for this evening.’

It wasn’t much, but one could get drunk with it. Not that he needed it. Garvin went outside to avoid the crowds and get some fresh air. It felt good to take a stroll and have the wind blowing on him. It cleared the mind of all the cluttering thought and feelings. Finally he could breath and wind down somewhat. Parties like this tired him mentally. Like strained muscles require rest, so did his mind. Generally Ar’Moorians were a loud bunch, especially around inns at night. They needed but little to start a party, a silly song could do. Garvin sat by the small bridge. His feet were dangling trough the bridge railing.

Thats when he heard a door open just behind him, on the other side of the street. It was the bard, apparently for him, the party was over.

As Garvin watched and wondered whether to say something, a little girl with curly hair popped up at the doorway.

‘I’m sorry. Papa can’t buy you that doll tomorrow,’ the bard said.

‘But you promised!’ the girl yelled. ‘You promised me last week!’

The bard quickly closed the door, leaving Garvin in the shadows once more.

Garvin stared at the house, and at the money in his pouch.

He got up, walked to the door and knocked.

‘Yes?’ the bard said, barely opening the door.

Garvin dropped his pouch in front of the door and walked back to the inn.

‘Hey!’ the bard yelled behind him. ‘Hey!’

Garvin started running. He ran over the bridge, trough the desolate streets and didn’t stop until he was back at the inn.