Medievia Mudslinger

April 21st, 2002

"Elvish Spotted in Local Tavern!" - By Scoop D'Icecream

A Mudslinger Exclusive

Legend and mystery surround the history of the great elven bard, Elvish. Many have been the rumors and theories about his disappearance, but the Medievia Mudslinger, as a responsible publication, has not descended to the levels of other less reputable news sheets by printing such wild claims.

Our news desk has occasionally received claims of sightings of the great bard, but we have always dismissed these out of hand. "Elvish Looted my Armor!" and "Elvish Founded my Bloodline!" are but two of the headlines we are sure you have regarded with contempt.

When a flurry of consistent reports reach our ears, however, we took note and decided to try and lay to rest these rumors for once and for all. Our roving cub reporter, Scoop D'Icecream, was sent to investigate and here is his report. Read his tale and form your own conclusions.

I ventured to the Prized Boar Tavern, wishing that I had better control of my vertigo, to check on the rumors of yet another Elvish sighting. We haven't had a spate of these for some seasons now, and the last one turned out to be a gentleman with a rather badly fitting wig. However, our informants this time appeared to be more than the giggling prankster we usually get.

Would I be witness to the return of the great elven bard? Elvish disappeared many moons ago in curious circumstances in the depths of the forest of Alendora. Rumors and contradictions in the evidence abound. What had the fisherman seen? What was the significance of the red berries that had been left in his abode's larder? There were so many questions unanswered and now we had reputable claims of his return to the stage. What would I find?

From the outside, the Prized Boar appears to be no different from any other such quaffing establishment of my acquaintance. Old men drink at outside tables no matter the weather, small boys peer in the door as they wonder how long their fathers will be and the dull hum of conversation oozes from within. Yet over all these, my attention was taken by the ethereal sounds of a bard finishing a rather effective rendition of 'Blue Steel Boots of the Deathlord of the Underworld'. The singing was true to the original Elvish, but was it just a talented imitator? Mindful of the need for signed receipts for legitimate expenses, I readied my invoice book and resolved to find out.

The interior of the tavern was dark and smoky, and yet I could make out the bar with ease. With a tankard and a freshly signed invoice in my hand, I took my ease and looked over the bard's corner where a figure rested on a stool in the shadows. Perhaps it was fate or perhaps he knew I needed to see his face and didn't want to disappoint his public - whatever the reason he chose that morning to lean forward into a circle of dim torchlight.

I stared for uncounted seconds. The upper lip curled just as the artists had shown it, the hair was set into the same upswept style we are all familiar with and as for those ears... Only one elf ever had such well-defined pointy bits. Was I looking at the elf who wrote and performed 'Log-out Hotel,' the anthem of moody youths the continent over? Nearly leaving my tankard in my haste, I resolved to find out.

"Sir?" I called as I neared and the bard stood up from tuning his lyre with surprise. As he did I could see the seams of his hose were starting to split with the strain of his considerable bulk. I started to sweat - was this the real Elvish?

"Sir!" I repeated but more forcefully as I approached. "I'd just like a moment of your time." The elf stared at me in confusion as I stepped up and grabbed his hand. There was no time to waste. "Sir, are you Elvish?" I asked him, not realizing that I was indeed about to step on his 'Blue Steel Boots of the Deathlord of the Underworld', for he was indeed wearing such mystical footwear.

"Uh-huh-huh!" he wailed as he smote me with his lyre. I fell into a swirling darkness from which it took me hours to recover. When I woke, the bard had gone and the barkeep was just throwing me out. Grabbing my receipt book, I made my excuses and left.

Was that the real Elvish I met in the tavern? I will not try to sway your beliefs for you, instead presenting the facts as I observed them. I leave the final judgment to you, our fine reader.

Note from the Editor - Have you an Elvish sighting to relate to us? Please, just don't tell us.


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