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.
FRONT PAGE |
MEDIEVIA HOME PAGE
Copyright (c) 1992-2015 Medievia.com, Inc. All Rights Reserved
Mudslinger is a trademark (Tm) of Medievia.com, Inc.
No portion of the MudSlinger may be reproduced without the express written consent of Medievia.com, Inc.