The guards were, frankly, a bit of a surprise. Elodan had always know he had a bit of an inflated opinion of himself, but still, it seemed improper that guards should attempt to deter his entrance. He was a famed bard, for Iara's sake! Perhaps his notoriety hadn't yet reached this far, but even so, his garb and manner of speech should get him in anywhere! What nonsense. Well, he would see about that.
"Your pardon, sirs!"
"You again. What do you want this time, bard?"
"Went, sirs. Elodan Went."
"Maybe it's time you Went somewhere else, hmm?" The guards chuckled at that one. Elodan frowned. That was one of his go-to puns. It was a shame to have it stolen by a common guard. Jokes weren't like biscuits. Once someone had heard a joke, that was it. It wouldn't be as funny the next time. Biscuts, on the other hand, were always delicious.
"Very clever, sirs! Very clever indeed! Why, I never thought of such an observation." By Jirys, it was hard to keep up the proper speaking. Accents were like cloaks, though. Wearing the right one could get you most anywhere.
The bard straightened his cloak a bit, adjusting the stringed instruments that hung from straps over his shoulders. He was beginning to think he had brought a few too many. "Well. If it is of any note, I trained for a time under Hoyed of Witton. He was as much a jester as a flutist. If I were to entertain the benevolent ruler, that would hold up as valuable as well, no?" He contorted his well-fed face into what he imagined a jester might look like.
The guards glanced between each other, apparently communicating through some arcane, silent method. That, or just considering the simple question of whether or not to permit entry to the apparently-unarmed storyteller.
"Aye, you can come on in."
"You have my thanks, sirs. I promise you, your faith is not misplaced!"
"Ehh, I regret it already."
Elodan didn't wait for the imposing fellow to change his mind. With a bounding gait, he hurried inside, his merlin bouncing against his back in its case over his shoulder. This was what an adventure was supposed to begin like! A gathering of heroes, and here he was to tell the tale! Ah, they would repeat the ballad he composed for generations! As he strode into the inner courtyard, he sighted the would-be adventurers.
He spent another moment looking around. This couldn't be it. There were so few... swords. And was that a child? Dear god, it got worse. A serpentine creature would make an excellent addition to an epic, but near her, strumming away, was another bard! She appeared to have a lute, and he saw no wind instruments, but even so... It would hardly do for another to replace him. Perhaps replace was the wrong word. He didn't have the role, yet... He'd have to put his best face forward. Even a king had to be impressed with a student of Gerhan Luteman!
With all the stealth of a sleepwalking hippopotamus, Elodan edged toward the red-haired bard, who was playing a lively tune he had somehow not heard before. He did his best to remain patient as the young woman played, and as she did, he appraised her appearance. She, frankly, looked a bit rough. Plain clothes, a bit dirty... He shivered a bit. She looked like a true threat. By all appearances, she was a wanderer, perhaps an Isk'bet, by the sounds he slowly began to recognize. Apprenticeship under masters was one thing. Real-world experience with culturally-musical people... that was another.
Out of respect and concern, Elodan kept quiet, choosing instead to carefully tune his merlin to its optimal settings for one of his more rowdy bar songs. The king looked like a sturdy fellow. Surely he enjoyed a bawdy tune or two... Elodan considered the idea, while keeping near the other bard, and keeping a close eye on her as well.
