The Bard and The Rogue

Cw: mild swearing, brief sexual talk

“Please, dear God, make it stop.” I muttered quietly, rubbing the bridge of my scarred nose to try and alleviate the headache while the ballad went on.

Fleming finished with his song, rounding about the ale soaked tavern tables and giving a bow, “Thank you! Thank you! But the real honor of praise goes to Theodon the Mighty!” He pointed back to me, banjo in his off hand, a wide smile on his face. The same face I’m going to beat black and blue one of these days. Again.

A woman approached him, slightly coy but flirtatious as she took in the tall and lean form of the bard I still hadn’t managed to get rid of. “Sir, do you have any other stories or ballads of the Mighty Rogue?” She shamelessly gave Fleming a once over that I knew would go straight below the belt.

Rolling my eyes, I stood up to leave. Once Fleming got started, it took nothing short of a tavern's supply of ale or several attractive partners to shut him up. I could barely stand his presence now, he would be intolerable by morning.

“Actually, I do. Theodon!” He called out, forcing me to pause a few strides from the door.

“I swear to God…” I mumbled. With a heavy sigh, I turned back to the auburn haired man, pure venom in my stare, “what is it?”

Fleming grinned again, dark oak eyes flashing at my annoyance. “On second thought, you go rest for the big journey tomorrow. I must say,” he paused again, playing with the growing crowd’s anticipation, “I should rest soon, too. It will be quite the perilous journey.”

If I weren’t so sore and tired from the last endeavor, I might’ve strangled him. My hands clenched at my sides, reaching for the daggers on my hips. One throw, just one, and I could finally shut him up.

His eyes moved, catching the movement before turning his back to me. He was a cocky son of a bitch. “Theodon and Mighty and I travel far at first light to a neighboring village where they are rumored to have been plagued by a beast of night and cruelty.” He began, waving his arms around with his instrument of my torment now on his back.

I paused my leaving again, needing to see how big of a hole he was about to dig me into. Maybe I could derail him. “If you’re yapping about the Mortular Village four days' ride from here, I received a messenger yesterday. Their issue with the beast has been resolved.”

The look Fleming shot back towards me was wicked. He knew I had received the messenger about that village. “Ah, you see, the people of the land even know that the Mighty Rogue goes where he is needed only.”

Letting out a sigh, I tried to leave again, hoping Fleming would find himself a bedmate and leave me alone for the night. My legs ached, lower back protesting the twisting of my hips. It wasn’t as easy fighting and traveling as it had been in my early adulthood. Time and weather passed differently on my journeys, so I used my body to keep track of the months. I kept the beard I had gotten early in my youth, allowing the dark half mask to warm me during cold and rainy nights. My hair I only cut once it reached past my collar bones, cutting it back to the shorter style Fleming usually preferred. It was nearly time to cut it again as the black strands were just passing my shoulders. “There will be no journey to Mortular in the morning.”

The tavern sighed in response, disappointment flooding the air just as I reached the worn door leading into the howling winds of the night.

That grating, melodic voice sounded again from the auburn haired bard. “Fear not! For there is no cruelty or monster too powerful for Theodon the Mighty! Tomorrow, at first light, just after the roosters cry, we shall travel to destroy the Black Forest and the ruthless, self-proclaimed King Elgrog.”

I stopped dead, brass knob squeaking under my grip. The tavern walls had silenced, dread becoming nearly tangible.

Fleming spoke again, sensing the new mood he created. “As I say, fear not! Theodon the Mighty will prevail! I will travel with him to tell the world of his harrowing journey. It is truly an honor to be the one to sing about the grand stories of our soon to be great hero.”

Slowly, with shaking hands, I released my grip on the door handle, turning to face the tall and sun kissed man. The shaking soon traveled up my arms, but it was not fear. It was rage. I was going to kill Fleming for this. Slowly. Painfully. Brutally.

He must’ve seen it in my face as his own lost some color. Smart man. “Well, uhm, we must be off. We wish you all good rest and safe travels of your own.” He bowed again, retreating back to the exit by me.

Once he was within reach, I grabbed the brown linen of his sleeve, dragging him with me through the door. I slammed the door closed behind us, continuing to pull the complaining man. “For God’s sake, Theo, I did you a favor-”

I cut him off, shoving him against the dank and damp wall between a tavern and herb shop. Faint light illuminated his features only enough for me to make them out. In an instant, a dagger was against his smooth neck, my eyes burring holes into the dark oak of his. He had the common sense to look nervous. “First, do not call me that. Second,” I shifted the blade a little, drawing a wince from him. Although Fleming had managed to survive nine years following me, I had more muscle and skill, “you did no such thing. You just signed our deaths.”

Fleming tilted his head, arms going up at his sides to show me he was unarmed, but slightly amused. “You expect me to believe you don’t have it out for the man who murdered your father and stole your throne?”

The shock on my face generated a smirk from the bard. “Oh come now, Theodon, was it really so hard to figure out? The old and forgotten king of the Black Forest was murdered, an only child, a son who shared his same blue-gray eyes and ink black hair gone missing just into his adulthood, and then a mysterious stranger with no family shows up a week’s distance away? I’m not stupid.”

It took me a second to piece it together. Fleming was a decade or so younger than me. He must’ve grown up hearing the stories of how my father fell. I had long given up hope of reclaiming my forest. “I cannot fight that King. There are too many monsters in those woods.”

Fleming waved a hand before placing his own on my shoulders, attempting to shove me off. We were close in height, but I had more muscle. His body would always be leaner than mine. “Nonsense, there is nothing you cannot do, Theodon. I have followed you for nearly a decade and have seen it all. You live up to your name.”

I stared at his face a moment, trying to see if he truly believed his own ludicrousy. His eyes were set, decisions made.

Letting off him, I moved away, further down the alleyway towards the cottage I was staying at. The sweet, elder woman was lonely and wanted help around her land. She denied any payment I offered her, only accepting my labor in trade for me to stay in a room. I was gone often enough to make sure someone else would tend to her if I wasn’t able. Over my shoulder, I tried one last time to rebuff the bard’s claim to my heritage. “And I am not the son of King Rathal.”

The bard was silent for a moment before his steps caught up to mine. Our images faded as we moved deeper into the alley, shielding us from view and the sounds of the street. “I never told you of his name.”

The rooster’s cry woke me up, followed by the yeasty sweet smell from the kitchen. Marion must be baking again. Rolling out of bed, I stretched the sore muscles before gathering my supplies. Fleming had declared I would travel to the Black Forest and defeat King Elgrog, somehow. My only hope was to start the journey and stop as often as possible to try and aid villages. Maybe eventually the people would forget to where I travel.

I had to bend at the knee slightly to get out of the room I was leant. Marion and her late husband were on the shorter side, but it was common in this region.

She was indeed baking. Marion had made three loaves of sweet smelling bread, some eggs, even some ham from the butcher she got a few days ago. The only thing wrong with this perfect morning was the lean, auburn haired, ballad singing, annoying, clingy, man that was Fleming.

Marion was seated across from him, her gray hair in a loose, long braid down her back. She had gotten thinner over the last few winters, but she still had enough weight to look strong. Maybe I could pay a stable boy to make sure she eats while I’m gone. “Theo, there you are. Fleming was just describing the journey you are to take.”

I met his eyes, letting him see the warning in mine. “Yes, Miss Marion, we are going away for a while. I will make sure there are arrangements for you while I am gone.” Maybe he hadn’t told her the full details.

She waved her hands, motioning for me to sit. “Nonsense about that coin business. You listen here,” she pointed a wrinkled finger at me, “you make sure to keep an eye out in that forest. There are lots of beats and I know you’ve slain many, but be careful. I’ve come to care for you over these last twelve years.”

Shame and guilt ate at my stomach. I could not tell her I would not be coming back. That I was likely to die going to that forest. Glancing to Fleming again, I saw the pitiful smile he shot my way. A pathetic apology for doing this.

We ate. They talked, I stayed silent, plotting ways to make Fleming pay for this. After breakfast, we packed some rations Marion was kind enough to give us before starting the journey on foot. It would take nearly three weeks to reach the Black Forest this way, but we had no horses nor the coin for them.

It had been a few hours, most of it filled with endless chatter from Fleming when I finally broke my silence. “What’s the plan, bard? How are you going to make sure I even make it to the Black Forest? Who’s to say we don’t get sidetracked or I ditch you in some hovel along the way. Or maybe I could bind you and sell you to the closest pleasure house. You’d fit right in.” Fleming had, regrettably, known me long enough to know I wouldn’t actually sell him, or anyone, to another. Hunting down those who did sell people was how I started in this business.

He laughed, taking off the outer layer of his warm brown tunic. The spring was transitioning into summer, but I knew the weather would be affected once again while we traveled and throw off his sense of time. “You wouldn’t dare, and I know it. You might bind me if you get angry enough, but you’d have to drag me the rest of the way.”

I didn’t let him see the look on my face. “You know, your mother chose your name quite well. We should thank her.”

“What do you mean? You wanting to change your name, Theodon?” He got closer to me, trying to catch my eye.

I chuckled. “No, because it suits you. Phlegm. The annoying substance I can never quite get rid of.” Looking to him again, his mouth hung open, eyes wide. Hearty laughter came out of me, it had been a while since I got a good one on him.

Fleming continued to wander with me during those three weeks, playing with new melodies and rhymes until I threatened to make him swallow his teeth.

We set up camp on the twentieth day, the last dregs of sunlight dying as the fire sparked to life. Almost like a trade. One fire for another.

Fleming skewered the frogs he caught, placing the stick over the flames to cook our dinner. “You can turn back, you know.”

He had been quieter, reserved, the last few days and every time we stopped by a village for more supplies. I assumed it was the terror of going near those woods. “I can’t. You’ve told the entire realm almost that I’m going. If I have to go and get myself killed, I expect someone to witness it. You will do a fine job retelling the story of how I lost my life.”

Dark oak eyes met mine, his face more somber than I had ever seen it. “And if I chose not to run? If I chose to stay and fight beside you?”

I turned the frogs before grabbing a hunk of bread from my bag. It was the last of the bread we bartered from a baker three days ago. “I wouldn’t want my only friend to perish.”

He hummed, looking up at the stars starting to show with the dying twilight. “Who would’ve guessed that you would ever call me a friend.”

I looked him over again, seeing with new eyes. He had gotten older in the last nine years, we both had. I couldn’t keep up this life much longer or a beast would surely kill me. “You’ll have to sing the story of us, you know. One of these days.”

He smiled at me, taking the frogs off the fire to test their doneness. Unsatisfied, he placed them back on the fire, scooting a little closer to me. “I know, but I want to wait until there is something truly worth singing about.”

A sudden millstone filled my throat, making it harder to speak. “If you wish to go, Fleming, I won’t stop you. You have been a good friend. A good companion all these years.”

Flaming shifted a few inches closer, nearly touching me. “I’m not going anywhere, Theo. Tomorrow, we will fight this together. Who knows, maybe there are others on their way to take vengeance against King Elgrog.”