Sweat drips down the brow of a young Squire as he completes
the final swing of his practice maneuvers and throws himself down upon a pile
of hay. Lying back against the soft embrace of the haystack, the Squire begins
methodically cleaning his weapon and ponders the mysteries of life. As the sun
begins its decent towards the horizon, his mind turns towards his Master and
the new light in that Knight’s eyes. Having recently learned of the heartbreak his
mentor had faced in the past, the Squire could not help but long to know more
of this tremendous story. Thus, he gathers up the supplies and equipment from
his workout regiment, trudging down towards the village below him and seeking a
companion he knew had traveled with his Master for several years.
Following the meandering path into the quaint village, the
Squire soon approaches a house with a middle aged couple sitting on the porch
and gently rocking on a large porch swing.
Recognizing them as companions of the Paladin, he steps lightly up to
the railing surrounding the porch and asks them if they knew his Master all
those years ago, or if they knew someone who did. After some thought, the man
tells the Squire that the village does host someone who would know this story
and points him towards the tavern in the city of the village. Confusion sweeps
across the face of the young Squire as he considers the location, until the
friendly man points out that the bartender used to a traveling Merchant. “He was a giant of a man, bold and affable
and willing to tell you any tale that would make you desire to pay more for his
trinkets,” the man explains, “Always had a tale, story, or rumor to feed you.
And then one day he went too far and made some tale that was a bit too close to
comfort. It involved the Queen and a dalliance, and the rumor seemed so
believable that nearly half the Kingdom was in an uproar. That is when the
Royal Decree went out, and the Merchant became a lonely bartender.”
With this interesting bit of gossip in his mind, the Squire
begins to walk again and this time set his path directly to the village Tavern.
Raucous music assaults his ears to provide confirmation that he is getting
close, and just in time as the clouds have begun to darken and the air stills
in anticipation of an incoming storm. Walking down the worn mud steps into the
tavern entrance, he glances over the abused building and notes that despite the
exterior wear and tear, the Tavern is very solidly built and can withstand the
antics of the patrons within. Shouldering through the heavy oak door, the
Squire is greeted by impact of a meaty fist upon his cheekbone. The strike is
awkward and off balance and thus barely grazes the young man though it does
force his head back and up, causing a moment of extreme alarm and anger. Before
the Squire can even decide how to react, either by wading in with his fists or
pulling out one of his swords and fighting in earnest, a massive hand clamps on
his shoulder and he is firmly pulled to the side.
Twisting his head around in protest at this newest affront,
the Squire suddenly grows quiet as a red headed mountain of a man moves in
front of him. With a quick flash of
movement, a massive arm grasps the drunken lout who began the fighting and just
as quickly the man is flung through the door with a mighty thud. Swearing
heavily, the drunk picks himself up and shakes his head to the accompaniment of
beads of sweat flying from his distressed hair. Just as the drunk opens his
mouth to shout a challenge, the heavy bulk of the door swings back shut and slams
into the back of the inebriated fool. Silence fills the tavern for a few
moments as all occupants stare at the still form of the drunk sprawled upon the
ground, and then the room fills with a hearty cheer when the drunk begins to
snore. Two patrons hurriedly step up and
drag the man out of the tavern as everyone else lifts their mugs and business
returns to normal.
Guided by the nudge of a large hand upon his back, the
Squire travels forward to sit on a small bench set into an alcove near the main
bar. Sipping gratefully at the full mug that is deposited in front of him, the
Squire turns towards the one time Merchant and makes his quest for knowledge
known. For a moment, the Merchant remains silent and contemplates the young man
before him. Then he leans back against the bar and enters into the narrative of
such a story that can hardly be believed.
The Merchant’s deep voice starts with rehashing what the
Squire already knew; the brave Paladin, who mentored him now, was also a young
man in this story and had fallen for an Angel who could not decide between two
worlds, flitting back and forth between the Paladin and another man. But then
that baritone voice changed the story in a way that the Squire did not expect.
With a heavy sigh, the Merchant illuminated the slow setting poison that began
to creep into the thoughts and feeling of the Paladin as he watched the night
sky for his Angel. With trembling heart, he saw the paintings across the stars
that were meant for another. With weary ears, he heard the sweet nothings carried
from her lips across the wind but meant for someone else. And so the Paladin
had resolved to move on, to explore the world abroad and to burn all of his
feelings for the Angel who could not seem to settle down upon this mortal
earth.
The Squire listens patiently, hoping to discover a happy
ending in the midst of what seems to be a very dreadful tale. However the Merchant
simply continues his story without changing his expression; hearkening back
unto the days of yore and bringing to mind that young Paladin again. The
Paladin began to travel the world, withdrawing his thoughts and feelings into
himself while outwardly being social and friendly with those he met. During a
period of this lonely journey, he encountered a fellow traveler that seemed to
share the same desires of the heart. Reminiscing about different encounters
they had experienced in their respective lives, they came to agreement on
several different ideas and theories. Common complaints about the idiocy of the
fellow travelers and the fact that romance seemed to be dead in this world
tended to dominate the conversations that they had. Then one day, the Paladin
dared to bare his soul and shared the story of his encounters with the Angel.
Pain enters into the Merchants voice as he narrates now how
the friendship between the Paladin and the Troll began to take a very different
tact. The Paladin watched bewildered as each day passed and the Troll became
more and more aggressive, turning the Paladin’s words against him and twisting
situations to become issues where there were originally no issues. The Merchant
pauses here for a moment, wincing as he reflects upon his own role in this
degrading friendship. With the wry tones of one who now recognizes past folly,
the Merchant explains that he had enjoyed watching the friction build between
two erstwhile friends and so had plied his gilded tongue towards twisting the
mental state of the easily deluded Troll. While the Merchant spent his time
spinning what he thought were harmless yarns, it turned out that the Troll had
encountered the Angel for himself and decided that he could woo this beautiful
creature far better than the Paladin could. Thus the Merchant unknowingly aided
in fueling the competitive fire burning within the Troll which caused him to
view the Paladin as competition though that was reality only in the mind of the
Troll.
Things quickly come to a heated point in this tale, as the
Merchant’s voice speeds up in anticipation. The Troll begins to strive against
the Paladin. First quietly, then suddenly he openly challenges the Paladin.
Surprise and disbelief pour through the young Knight at this escalation of what
he had once considered a friendship and then he realizes that the lurking fear
growing in his mind has become a truth. The one whom he had once called an
Angel was instead simply a Witch hiding behind a veil of deception and secrecy,
and her whispered words were repeated in any ear that would listen. As the Troll continues his barrage and
attempts to drag the Paladin down into a cesspit of fighting and backstabbing,
the Knight has developed the wisdom to avoid the situation and focus upon his
own battles. Safely removed and ignoring the posturing and threatening from the
Troll, the Paladin watches from afar as the Witch attempts to pretend that
nothing has changed. Secret words are still whispered in the dark of night,
little signals are sent that seem to indicate an Angel waiting for the right
moment to slip into the arms of the Paladin. But now the veil has been torn and
the Paladin is wise to these ploys, so he continues his travels in earnest and
leaves the tattered bridges of false promises behind.
Shock is mingled with relief on the face of the Squire as he
takes in the unexpected twist in this fateful story. Learning forward to face the
former Merchant, he asks if there was a conclusion to this story. The Merchant
briefly chuckles before explaining that several friends had attempted to drag
the Troll away from the siren call which drew to him. His voice seems to
contain a trace of derision as he narrates the several times that the Troll
appeared to come to his senses and apologize for the madness of previous
moments; he includes the conversations where the Troll is explaining the lies
that he was told and is countered by the Paladin repeating the exact same
phrases from the Paladin’s own experience with the now renowned Witch. And yet,
every time that the Troll seems to be recovering and regaining sanity it only
takes one slight call and the right snap of the fingers and the Troll falls
again under the spell.
As yet another scuffle breaks out in the Tavern, the jovial
features of the Merchant fade into the resigned expression of the Bartender and
he excuses himself to enforce peace upon his patrons. Settling back into the
bench, the Squire contemplates the new information that he had learned. Some
made sense, as it explained why his Master had traveled so much and even now
continues to be social on the exterior but keeps things very private beneath
the emotional surface. A sad shake of the head accompanies his thinking, as the
Squire hopes to never personally repeat the experiences outlined in the story
of the Paladin and the Troll.
