Story
_What makes a good story? One that will have your audience hanging on to every word you say, completely drawn in by the images your voice sets or them? What are the stories that will be told from father to son, from mother to daughter, that will carry on trough the ages? Epic stories of heroes and villains, of adventurers and treasures, of knights, dragons and fair princess to be saved, until thry all live happily ever after.
This is not one of those stories. This story will not be told a hundred years from now. This story will not be heard from the shores of Calimshan to he hills of Thay. This story does not recount deeds that changed the fate of the world forever. And unless you tell it on, this story will die with you.
Our tale begins in Waterdeep, the City of Splendors, and arguably the most magnificent city on the face of Toril. From across the world, merchants come to sell their wares here, bringing goods from faraway places that most of us can only dream on. Stages are filled with musicians and illusionists, weaving songs and stories of knights, dragons and fair princesses to be saved.
But I was non of those. I could only listen in wonder to the stories of the sights beyonds the city walls from the travellers that came to our house now and then. I was not allowed to leave the house. My mother thought me everything I needed to know, and I had no reason to leave the house. No children ever came to play with me, except for those times another amily came to visit, and brought their children with them. But I was not like them, I did not age as they did, and I did not see the world as they did. Some of them laughed at me, and called me names, and I was very alone indeed. The years went by, and I learned many things about the noble's life. Things of law, politics and etiquette, as I was prepared for a life of luxury and decadence, and intrigue.
One day, when I was exploring the garden of our house - it had taken me many years to earn the privelege of wandering about outside - I found a way out. There was a small opening in the hedge that kept me in my olden cage, and one afternoon I snuck trough and out when no-one was watching, into the city.
Oh, the marvel I did see. I wandered the streets for hours, and there was so much to explore. There were dwarves and halflings and gnomes! Creatures I had only seen in books before. There were elves too, as mother was. And, there were even those of mixed blood. I was not alone after all, and I was not nature's mistake. We spoke for some time, and it was with sadness I returned to the house, finding only a good scolding from father when I returned.
But I had found a taste for the life beyond the house, and as my father and his servants would discover, a talent for escape. They locked the oors, and I would climb out the window. They posted a guard but I would sneak by. My mother was not nearly as angered by this as my father. In fact, she almost seemed to approve. It would take me many years to understand this.
It was during one of my escapes, that I wondered trough the streets, until hearing the most beautiful music. Different from what I had learned, ifferent from the other bards and minstrels. It was wild and untamed,
random and twisting. I walked and walked as the music grew louder and sweeter, finally finding that it was a halfling playing a wooden flute. I had ever seen such a scoundrel in my life, playing his tunes as he leered at the girls in sight, enticing many a giggle as the small bag at his feet filled up with a few coins.
As the song came to an end, the crowd dispersed and went about its business. The halfling started collecting his things, counting and counting the few gold coins he had earned as if it was a dragon's hoard. Now I understand how precious such few golds can be, and what difference they could make in the life of a traveller, where a few golds can mean the difference between sleeping in warm inn bed and sleeping under a bridge.
As he noticed my stare, he turned, and stared back for but a moment, taking in my presence and clothes, and thinking I had become lost. He then spoke..
"'Ey lad, ye lost fr'm yer moth'r some'in?"
Thought it took me a moment to realise he was speaking to me, and discerning what it is he had just asked me, I shaked my head and answered quietly. Too quietly, apparantly, as he could not understand my words over the noises of the city streets. And thus I repeated, louder this time.
"No sir. I'm just wandering around. I shouldn't even be out here."
"Yer lookin' loike som' los' noble'r some'in. What's ye doin' 'ere?"
"I left my home for the day. It bores me endlessly, and I wish I could just leave it."
"So why don't ye?"
It was a question I had not even considered. I had never considered simply running away, yet if I was contained much longer within the house, surely I would go mad. And though I loved mother with all my heart and soul, I knew she would understand. In her eyes I saw the same longing, the same desire to leave this place behind her. And I decided that I would indeed leave the house for some time, to wander and see some of the world. The halfling bard who I had met, had introduced himself as Seppe, and he offered to bring me along in some of his journeys, until I choose to come back.
My father was furious. He forbid me to go, saying that my place was with him. That I was but a boy, and would never survive by myself, or with a wandering minstrel. Would I doom myself to poverty, to become a vagrant? His words were harsh, yet not without truth. I was but fourteen fears of age, a true boy for one such as I. My desire and wish to leave the house to go on great adventures did sound as nothing but childish dreams. But I was determined. I wished to learn more of the world and its ways. He spat and vowed, that if I were to walk out the door in persuit of this foolishness, he would never have me back.. I would be cast out of the family.
I fled to my room in tears. My father was a harsh man, and yet there was truth in his words. I would give up a life of wealth and comfort for dreams and shadows. Yet my mother came to me that evening, and spoke words
of such kindness, and courage. She told me how we must all make choices, and ultimately it is we who decide our path. She would miss me dearly if I was to leave, yet I would do so and carry her love with me.
I left the house that night, with nothing but a handful of coin I had gathered and some sturdy clothing a kind servant had provided me with. I left the city with Seppe, to find my way myself. And though there would be many dangers and much pain in this path, even today I did not regret the choice I made. A choice of deciding my own life. A choice of freedom. Many stories can be told of the things I have seen, yet they will be told when the time is right.
And so this is my tale before tales. The tale of the bard before he was a bard, of the wanderer before he was a wanderer._
