Chapter 2 - A Poor Man's Lodgings
Upon arriving in Bree it was clear that coin, or lack there of, would be my first concern. What would be considered a moderate amount of coin out in Archet and the smaller villages beyond, now was nothing more than a pittance in a town such as Bree. Subsequently this now made me a poor man.
I am no stranger to sleeping rough in the wilds, but I knew that if I was to fully embrace this new life of mine, I had to try and strive for better things. And so, I managed to scrape together enough coin for a night in the common room of the Prancing Pony.
The next day I explored the town, searching for any jobs that may provide enough coin to continue lodging within Bree's walls. Needless to say there was little permament employ to be had, especially for one with limited talents such as my own.
I returned to the Prancing Pony downheartened, and used my last remaining coppers to buy a tankard of weak ale. Sitting at a table alone, I removed my Lute from my pack and stared at it for a time. For just a moment I wondered how many coins it may fetch at the Trader's Market. Almost instantly I dismissed the thought from my mind, a feeling of shame rising up inside me. How could I ever consider selling something I held so precious? Had I really become that desperate?
'Oi, you play?" The voice startled me from my dark thoughts and I turned to face a tall, gruff man, with a face full of bristles and breath that smelled like the bottom of an old ale keg. He swayed slightly as he stood there looking at me.
Not satisfied with my blank and somewhat confused stare he repeated the question "D'you play....you know, like music?" gesturing toward the Lute I held out in front me.
I nodded, and hesitantly rose from my seat. It felt as if all the eyes in the tavern were upon me, but looking back now I know it was likely my own paranoia, brought on by nerves. The previous night whilst playing my lute alongside the charismatic man known as Bullborn, things had not seemed so daunting, but now alone here, with no other musicians to draw attention away from me I felt somewhat apprehensive.
I played a slow and solemn melody that my mother used to sing back home. As my fingers plucked at the strings I lost myself in the music, my apprehension draining away, along with everything else around me.
My fingers played the final chord, and I was snapped from my reverie by the tinkling of coins hitting wood. "Well played my friend, get ya'self an ale on me" the gruff man slurred, before turning and heading back toward the bar.
It was then I realised; perhaps the few talents I did possess may not be as useless in Bree as I had first thought...
