I did this short story about 4 years ago. Its one of my earliest attempts on trying to write a little something. Granted, its not that great. But I look upon it with a type of fondness. So enjoy!
“Come around people, Come around!” The Old Bard called out while setting close
to evening fire. “What shall it be
tonight” He asked
“Let’s hear about Murts Axethrower, the Salty Dwarf!” Someone from the group called. “That again, Young sire?!” replied the storyteller in feigned
amazement. For it was a favorite, both
in the telling and the listening.
“Yes!” the mass cried out.
“Then let us start at the beginning…”
The Bard said.
“Murts
was like any other of his tough race.
Bound for feats of strength and to out weather the very hills
themselves. But at a young age, Murts’
feet had a mind of their own. He left
Family and Clan like his older brother and set out for a Life of adventure.”
“He was
already highly skilled at the use of axe and fist, which helped him greatly in
his first trials and feats of strength.
With every new challenge, he seemed to grow more careless. For it seemed he moved through his enemies like
they were unmoving pillars of salt. Then
he came upon a challenge that he no hope of overcoming. His path happen to cross with an green dragon
of an unknown name.”
The
listening throng gasped in unison, like they always did at this part of the
story. The Old One continued with a small smile “Yes! Imagine!
Murts, The Salted Ones himself took on a Green and lived to tell the
tell! The fight went on longer than any
would of dared. But let’s be frank here
people. You think you can take on a
dragon by yourself and win?!” In which the Storyteller got a splattering of
boos.
“See how long you survive against a
dragon of any size you dolts!” He shot back, which seemed to silence the
hecklers for the time being. The Old
Bard nodded, continued after a moment “The Great Dragon left Murts for dead in
a secluded Vale, miles away from any city, or a decent road or path. He managed to make his battered body crawl to
a cave nearby, in which he passed out from his wounds.”
“After what seemed like an eternity
of pain induced sleep, our Hero woke up to something sniffing him. Still hazy from the effects of sleep, Murts
thought for a moment it was the Dragon coming to finish him off. He jerked
awake (or as best he could in the state he was in) and tried moving away. But then the creature growled, which made
Murts stiffen where he was. Murts
thought ‘That’s no dragon, but a bear!’”
The Crowd gasped again.
The bard waved them down and saying
“Yes, He thought he was trapped too. But
after the growling stopped, the bear start licking him” several children
started giggling, which got quieted by an up turned eyebrow “and cleaning his
wounds. He once again passed out from
the pain. Over the next month, this bear
helped Murts heal by bringing food and such to the cave. Then He never came again.”
“Murts, by this time, was healed enough to make it to
Fallcrest. His brother, Murgeddin
Axethrower, was a smithy there. He still
needed some help. Then 2 Weeks to the
day Murts arrived in Fallcrest, a shaggy assortment of people walked into the
inn…”
Comments (3)
That was probably a momma bear, and she mistook poor ol' Murts for one of her young'ins that still needed licking into shape.
I truly hope there is a part two to this, where we get to see the showdown with the Green...
Poor Murtz. His fate turns this tale so tragic. You should tell the whole thing...
That someone didn't tell the bad guys "No disintegrations;?