[b]CRASH[/b]

A great hole in the wall had opened. Who had made it, and who had survived it, Ealdwine had no idea at all. His legs really hurt. Maybe he had broken them. He was sure he would fall over if he stood up. So he stayed on the ground, his fingers dancing along the courses, up and down the damaged lute. Nothing else mattered.

Yes, nothing at all.

Maybe he had finally lost his mind. A man can only take so much heartbreak before he cracks. When the bard was young, he recalled, he had always admired his grandfather. A singer of songs and teller of stories. Quick of wit and jovial in countenance. Truly, the man who had inspired the Bard to be the man he became. But one day, not long after grandmother had died, he had wandered singing into the woods. No one saw him again. Alive, that was. The huntsmen found his half-rotten corpse a few weeks later, floating in a brook. Four feet in depth. He had drowned at four feet. But, a man can only take so much danger before he cracks.

Before he cracks. Before he slacks. before he wax. Afore de'facs.

[i]Before he lax-fo-the-diddle-de-ri-de-O![/i]

'But!' what was left of his sense, revolted, 'Danger!'

The Danger Room! There was a song to die for! Nay, a song to die to! Ealdwine transitioned effortlessly from the Dagger Dance to his [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=02nLHpSLTxo]new song[/url]. Without distractions, and with a most intrigued audience, he began to play the Danger Room. Its introduction was most snappy, and well-suited to the rowdy but sociable atmosphere in the Dog. He had learned it from a Dwarven trio, the same that had taught him the previous piece. [i]Doren, Minkot, and...[/i]
[i]
What was her name?

Nil![/i]

Ah, the body on that one. Buxom and stout, and full of energy. They had spent a few nights together, far beneath the peaks of the mountains in ancient halls of stone. Just remembering it made the Bard lovesick. Did not old Nil have a son? Was the boy his? He had always wanted to settle down and have a family. A boy, maybe a girl or two. A dog, even. [i]Hehe, dog. Bawdy Dog[/i]. He could certainly have done worse than Nil, in any event- and as often as not he had.

[i]But can Man and Dwarf procreate? Is that even possible?[/i]

Was he recalling any of this correctly? Was Nil even a real person?

[i]Or is Nil a man? Maybe Minkot is the lass.[/i]

No matter! The introduction was over, and the words had now begun. Ealdwine was never a master linguist, and his Dwarvish was never any more than passable. But he knew the words to the song. He had practiced it again and again, in the Towercap Inn, and, later, in Doren's personal bedchamber. His voice rang true and loud as he played madly, his pronunciation scarce sullied by a foreign accent.

“Urem bisol udos
 Nanoth okil othil,
 gusil samam!
 Nas-okon arol deler lam.

Akur akir akam!

Akur akir akam!”

The words translated poorly into the common tongue, but ran roughly:

[i]
“My father was a peaceful man
 Never tested his weak, 
 copper courage!
 But I'm unburdened under steel and stone.

 Champions are rewarded by fortune!”[/i]

And the words ran on in likewise manner, without any regard for the lethal melee all about. There was nothing left for a bard to do but play and sing- and so he did.