A Hero's Ballad

     A Hero’s Ballad: Coda

     ~~

     Rohane attempted to sleep that night with little success. Velm sang lively tunes in the dining room, but at least those could be passed off as pleasant ambience. Mostly pleasant, anyway. Some of the patrons had voices that sounded like claws on a chalkboard—or worse.

     Stuffing a pillow over his head, Rohane realized, could drown out the less enjoyable racket.

     He rested his eyes when only Talinia stood guard, as she remained quiet after their conversation before, but once Velm and Mipsy returned, there was little peace to be had.

     “Lucy, I’m home!” said Velm, spinning the instrument around like a child before gently placing her next to his pillow.

     “Shhhh,” said Mipsy, placing a finger to her mouth. Her every step creaked the old wooden floorboards. “We need to be quiet, Velm. Rohane is trying to sleep.”

     “You think he’s really asleep? Maybe I should check on him to make sure he’s okay.”

     “He was really tired after, well, you know, so I bet he’s sleeping soundly.” She clapped her paws together. “The Neopians here are really supportive—one of them even wrote a get better card. Isn’t that nice? She even drew a little picture of him singing—how cute!”

     “Guys.” Talinia pointed to Rohane, who had now turned towards them and glowered at them through slitted eyes. She had chosen the bed above him and had been resting when the clamour began. Her deep eye shadows accentuated in the low light, making her look almost undead.

     “Sorry, Rohane. Sorry, Talinia. We’ll be quiet now.” They said this in unison, as if rehearsed.

     Rohane exhaled.

     For minutes on end they “quietly” scrambled around the room. Mipsy adjusted her pillow upon the squeaky old bed for the seventh time. Velm decided for the third time which position would be most comfortable for his instrument, shuffling around the sheets each time. There then came a time of silence, a sweet moment of reprieve. This lasted about twenty minutes before Velm’s snoring jarred Rohane awake.

     For being a rather petite Neopian, Velm’s snores echoed like the snarl of a hungry beast. Sometimes the pillow under his head would vibrate, making a low buzzing noise. The lute would harmonize with him every so often, a feat Rohane hated to admit was impressive, albeit terribly annoying. Mipsy joined in the cacophony: sleep talking. More specifically, sleep spellcasting.

     Most of the time, the “spells” she muttered were utter nonsense and caused no harm. “Sword shoes” was Rohane’s personal favourite, and the image it painted made him chuckle. Velm, of course, thought it was worth doodling when he was told about it: a cartoonish sword with googly eyes and long, stick-figured feet. The healer often joked that he would sell the doodles as “the musings of a half-asleep mage,” much to Mipsy’s annoyance.

     It was a known fact that Mipsy could not sleep without her wand by her side. She would toss and turn all night, awaken in a groggy haze and proclaim a desire for coffee the following morning. And if there was anything they knew to steer Mipsy away from, it was coffee. There would be… consequences. There was a reason—in some cases, reasons—why some of the inns in Meridell refused to serve them.

     This dream appeared to be a bit more vivid than normal. She thrashed around in bed as if being attacked by a monster. “Save you!” She muttered.

     Probably thinking about today, thought Rohane. He glanced up and heard nary a sound from Talinia’s bed. It never ceased to amaze him how peacefully she could rest, even when surrounded by an indoor hurricane of noisy adventurers.

     “Rohane!” His ears perked up at Mipsy’s voice as he sat up in bed. His back felt stiff, so he arched it forward, combining it with a soft yawn.

     He gently lifted himself out of bed and walked over to her side. She continued to tumble about in her sleep, her face twisting in worry and… fear?

      “The poor kid…” he rubbed his worn face with a paw and dragged it across his snout. “I really scared you guys, didn’t I? Some leader I am.”

     “No!” She shouted, tears forming at the sides of her eyes as her paw shifted and grasped the wand. “Fireball!”

     “Mipsy!” Rohane made a strained whisper in the hopes that she might wake and call off the spell, but it was too late. A ball of fire formed from her wand and hurtled towards the back wall.

     Rohane pushed open a window, sending the flame hurtling into the night. In its wake, the worn and stained curtains now had singed threads and the distinct smell of smoke. Miraculously, no one seemed to have stirred from their slumber.

      “Oh boy… so much for having any gold,” he thought as he climbed up the first two rungs of the bunk bed. He placed his paw upon hers and said, “I’m here, Mipsy. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

     The mage’s breathing relaxed as her body sprawled upon the bed. Her head rolled to the side as saliva pooled underneath her. “Safe…” she muttered, hugging her wand.

     “Good,” sighed Rohane, as he looked back towards his own pillow, “she’s back to her odd self.” Instead of climbing under the soft covers, he rummaged through his travel bag and removed a quill, ink, and some parchment. Using the sides of his feet, he crept to the door and pushed it open with a gentle nudge. Light from the few lit lanterns bounced on the wall, illuminating cobwebs that dangled from the ceiling.

     Not a soul paced the quiet halls of the inn. Only the occasional hoot of the tavernkeeper’s Whoot echoed in the empty dining hall.

     Rohane pulled a wooden seat back and climbed up, flattening the parchment against the grooved wooden round table. Graffiti from visitors long past adorned the table: “Chet Flash was here,” “GOOD NIGHT mr. coconut,” and “Thieves love pancakes.” He chuckled a bit, amused by the strangeness of these mysterious messages. Dipping the white quill into ink, he began to write, pushing against the tiredness of his body that desperately desired sleep.

      Dear Reuben:

     I hope this letter finds you and mom well. We’re still in the Haunted Woods. So far, so good. We had a bit of a mishap at our camp last night, got a little roughed up by some monsters. Looks like we’ll be needing to buy new equipment before we continue forward. For now, we’re staying at a quaint inn called the “Shady Sepulcher.” Early in the morning we’ll be heading out but for now the room is sufficient. It turns out Velm is great with the lute; the tavernkeeper was thrilled to see him there and gave us a discount. Maybe we’ll make a habit of this, I doubt Velm would mind.

     Speaking with Hubrid Nox presented some challenges—his minions are intelligent and conniving, very different than the goo and sludge monsters we’ve been fighting throughout the Woods. It took us hours to climb his tower before we got a straight answer—after removing the curse, that is. It’s never an easy answer here.

      We were a bit tired after this battle when we set up camp, so it’s been a few days with little sleep. I think it’s been especially hard on Talinia; we’ll have to find time to recover over the next few days, for her sake.

     Soon we’ll be facing off against the Esopagor; we think he’s the mastermind behind this whole incident.

     He lifted the quill from the page and tapped it against the table before continuing.

     The past 24 hours has made me realize how lucky I am to have such a great crew. They ask about you often, and look forward to seeing you again. I could say the same. It’s been a long journey.

     Your stubborn brother,

     Rohane

     “Can’t sleep, hun?”

     Rohane spun in his chair, barely missing the ink well. Drops of ink fell upon his tunic from the quill.

     “You’re awake?” he eyed the tavernkeeper tiredly, forcing back a yawn. “Why?”

     She put her paws on her hips. “Well, someone’s gotta clean this place. Do you know how messy this lot gets? Not that I mind with them buying three times the usual soda tonight. Besides,” the owl petpet swooped in and landed on her arm, “my guard Whoot is good at its job. There’s no better alarm system in the Woods.”

     “Ah, so they’re the one who announced our arrival when we first came in.” The petpet clacked its bill a few times before tucking its face under a wing.

     “Among other things, yes.” She tickled the chin of the Whoot, who rustled its feathers and fluffed up like a living balloon.

     “So, I take it you’re worried about me as well?”

     “A bit, yeah, but it seems like your friends have that all covered. You’re sounding much better than before.”

     “I am, thank you.”

     She stepped away to grab a long-handled broom with old, wiry brush and started sweeping. Plumes of dust kicked up causing the Whoot to purr in annoyance and relocate to a wall lamp. Rohane lowered his head onto his fist and watched aimlessly. “I swear…” she pushed someone’s dirty sock into a bin, wrinkling her nose. “You know, with a voice as good as yours, you’d be really popular at taverns.”

     He burrowed his face into his arms and muttered to the table. “You heard me, then.”

     “Oh, hun. We all did. This place isn’t known for its thick walls.”

     He slumped down. “Right. Should’ve guessed that.”

     “That you should’ve.” She leaned over his shoulder and smiled. “Writing to your folks at home?”

     “My brother.”

     She went quiet for a few seconds. “But you left out a lot. Like how you nearly died at my tavern, and how your friends and the brave Theodosia—that’s me, by the way—saved your hide.”

     He made an annoyed grunt and hid the letter with his paws. “Are you done prying into my business?”

     “For now,” she swept the last of the dust into a pan and emptied it into a waste bin. “But I’m just saying you’d make a popular troubadour. These are troubled times. Monsters run amok. There are rumours flying about Queen Fyora being dethroned and replaced by a drag—”

     “She what?” Rohane pushed back the table, knocking the ink well to the floor. The ceramic well shattered into a hundred pieces as ink exploded in all directions. He winced at the scene. “I’ll clean that.”

     Theodosia handed him a wet rag. “You’d better. Ink stains don’t clean well. I’ll leave a dustpan here for your ink well.”

     While he scrubbed the floor, Rohane pressed the question further. “How do you know she was dethroned?”

     “When you’re a tavernkeeper, you hear everything,” she said ominously. “We’re the place where everyone goes to share gossip. About each other, about their families, their friends, and especially their leaders. You’re from Meridell, right?”

     Rohane nodded. “From a small village called Trestin.”

     “I think I’ve heard of it.” She tapped her finger to her chin. “I remember some travellers say that name before.”

     “Another Blumaroo?” His brows rose with interest.

     “Who can say? It’s been a long time. But I can say that there’s an awful lot of travellers who don’t like your King. He must’ve done some really stupid things to garner that much disdain.”

     Rohane stifled a laugh. “Maybe, but he’s still my King.”

     “Suit yourself.” Theodosia scrubbed furiously at some gunk that was coating a table. “If something big has happened—heck, even if something small has happened—I probably know about it. And multiple travellers have come in here worse for the wear, claiming that they’re escaping Faerieland.”

     “Hey, Rohane, you okay?” A half-asleep Velm muttered as he dragged himself into the room, catching both of their attentions. “I heard your voice… and what sounded like something breaking… so I came in to check on you.”

     “Hey Velm, watch where you’re step—”

     “OUCH!” He stepped squarely on a ceramic shard and bounced in place on his uninjured foot before falling back to a sitting position on the floor.

     Rohane dragged his paw across his face. “We’re going to wake up the entire inn at this rate. Great.”

     “Is everything okay?!” Mipsy dashed into the room and saw Velm cradling his foot, Rohane cleaning the floor, and the innkeeper looking on with frustration.

     “Yes, Mipsy. Yes, Velm. Everything is fine,” He spat, before softening his tone. “But thank you for checking on me in any event.”

     “Y’all certainly are loud guests, aren’t you?” Theodosia pursed her lips before handing him a bandage. “Although it hardly seems necessary what with your healing abilities and everything.”

     Velm chuckled nervously, returning the bandages before placing his hand on his foot. “Heal,” he sang, and a glow covered his foot until the wound closed. “That’s one way to wake up. I’m just surprised Talinia hasn’t come in yet.”

     “She sleeps through a hurricane,” said Rohane, staring straight at Velm.

     “I can’t help it if I snore a little bit!”

     “A little bit? If a Rampaging Grundonoil is quiet, then yes. A little bit.”

     “Hey, this is a really nice letter you wrote, Rohane.” Mipsy slipped past the two bickering adventures and was sitting at the table where Rohane was before. “But you left out the part where—”

     “Alright.” Rohane cut her off. “Stop reading that. I’m heading to bed after cleaning this up. In the morning we’ll discuss our next plan of action. Anyone else tired?”

     “We’ll help,” said Velm and Mipsy in unison, who eagerly cleaned the floor along with Rohane. “You need your sleep.”

     “That’s for sure,” muttered Rohane. His eyelids dragged heavily across his eyes as he slapped his cheek to stay awake.

     The tavernkeeper shook her head in disbelief, silently handed them all cleaning supplies, and went about her business.

     Within a few minutes, the entire room looked much cleaner. As clean as that room was going to be, anyway. Deep, long-set stains still sat in the center of both long tables.

     After being absent for a few minutes, Theodosia came back with sticky buns. “Thanks for the help, y’all. It’s much appreciated. Especially for hard-scrubbing that gunk by the doorway.” She placed the plate of buns on a round table. “These are a bit stale, but they’ll still taste good enough.”

     The three gratefully accepted the offering before Mipsy and Velm dragged themselves back to bed. “I’ll be right there,” assured the swordsman, knowing full well that he would probably not be ‘right there.’

     When only Rohane and the innkeeper remained, he turned to her. “We should be thanking you. If it wasn’t for your kindness, I wouldn’t be standing here right now.” She waved a paw dismissively. “And you barely even charged us for the room. Let me at least leave one of my older weapons—you can sell it towards the damages to your curtain.”

     “It’s my pleasur—wait. What was that about damages?”

     “Mipsy, our mage, castes spells in her sleep,” Rohane deadpanned. “It’s not usually a problem, but we got unlucky tonight. I kept damages to a minimum, but still. It’s only right.”

     She sank onto a bench. “You’re the one who chooses to travel with them. I’m sure any other team would thrill to have a swordsman as well-built and skilled as you are.”

     He blinked. “Well-built, huh?”

     She shrugged. “It’s true.”

     “Well anyway.” He felt a flush of red creep to his cheeks and coughed awkwardly. “I wouldn’t trade them for the world even if they drive me up a wall. They’re my second family.”

     “Hm!” She exclaimed as she put away the cleaning supplies. “I wonder if they know how lucky they are?”

     Rohane simply smiled. “Thanks again for your hospitality. I’ll be sure to send any adventurers we find in your direction.”

     “I’d appreciate that.”

     “But before I head to bed… what other details have you heard about the Faerie Queen?”

     She grabbed a candlestick and placed it on the table. “Have a seat. This might take a while.” The wick burned brightly in the otherwise dim room. Liquid wax poured down and pooled at the bottom of the drip pan as she recounted all manner of rumours from panicked and weary travellers.

     “And they’re sure she’s been usurped by a dragon?” The flame darkened his expression. “And that this dragon has gathered a fleet of minions to defend ‘his’ castle?”

     “That’s what they’ve said. It’s probably hearsay, though, you know how rumours start.”

     “From a dozen Neopians, including Faeries that you’ve had to treat for burns and cuts?”

     “Well, yes.”

     “Then we have to admit that there’s something going on there, something bad. My crew and I will go there next, after we defeat the Esophagor. I think there’s a working warp pad near his lair. Hmm,” he stared at the ceiling. “We’re going to need to train a lot more if we’re going to survive in hostile territory.”

     “I mean, there is a warp pad there, but…” She shook her head. “If there really is a dragon ruling Faerieland, charging in is a death sentence.”

     His fist tightened. “Then we’ll have to make sure it’s not one.”

     “How?” She threw her paws into the air. “This is a dragon we’re talking about. A twenty-foot, fire-breathing, intelligent monster that is calling himself the new King!”

     “We’ve faced impossible odds before. We’ll just have to do it again.” He pushed back the seat and offered his paw. “I appreciate the information, Theodosia.”

     She returned it with a firm handshake. “I hope to hear tales of your loudmouth crew in the coming months. It’ll darn near double my sales to say the saviour of Faerieland slept here.”

     He let out a hearty laugh. “Seems like a nice way to return the favour of saving my life.”

     “I’d say so.” She extinguished the candle on the table. “Just come back alive some time. I’ll let y’all come in free of charge—and don’t worry. I won’t force you to sing this time.”

     “I’d appreciate that.”

     He sat back down to write a few more lines with the quill, the text noticeably lighter with drying ink.

      PS: We’ll be departing for Faerieland in the coming week. Rumour has it that Queen Fyora has been defeated by a dragon who is calling himself the new “King.” He’s been wreaking havoc on Faerieland’s inhabitants; starting tomorrow, we’re going to investigate those rumours. Before you start worrying, we’ll be careful. I’ll write back when I can.

     He rolled up the letter and held it out to Theodosia. “I trust I can leave this with you to send to Trestin?”

     “I’d be honoured.” She brought it to a small bag in the corner marked “Weewoo Post.”

     Rohane gave a friendly wave to the innkeeper before sneaking his way back into the room. Mipsy was pressed up against the wall, evidently awaiting his return. Drool dribbled down her chin and onto her sleep clothes.

     A half-awake Velm gave Rohane a salute, then immediately conked out.

     Exhaling gently, he crawled back into bed and laid his head on the pillow. Within minutes, he blacked out from sheer exhaustion.

     Bright sun poured into the window as the heroes, sans Rohane, changed into their adventuring gear. The swordsman lay face-down on the pillow, quietly snoring.

     Whatever dream Rohane was having, he looked happy in it.

     “He looks so peaceful,” whispered Talinia. “I can’t bear to wake him up.”

     He looked much younger when asleep, almost passing for 27. His frequent frustration added lines upon his face, and gave him a sort of middle-aged look that Reuben made certain to tease him about.

     “I don’t know, Reuben,” Rohane’s mother would say, “I think it makes him look more like his father, rugged and adventurous.”

     “Are you saying I look 49?” Crinkles would form on his face, deepening his scowl.

     “Nope,” shot Reuben, “now you look 57.”

     “Gee. Thanks.”

     “Now 85. You’re an old man, Rohane.”

     “Don’t make me throw something at you—”

     “Boys!” She’d bring them in tight together. “Get along now.”

     “Yes, Mom,” they said in unison.

     “Wasn’t the plan to leave at sunrise?” Velm twiddled nervously with his healing staff.

     “I mean, yeah, but he needs the sleep,” said Mipsy. “I’m sure the innkeeper would understand.”

     “I can go ask her.” Talinia creaked open the door.

     “No need.” Rohane’s face looked as it usually did, like a crinkled bag. Talinia stopped in her tracks, looking deeply regretful. “I’m awake.”

     “Sorry, boss…” Velm trailed off as Rohane forced himself to sit up. He stretched his arms forward like tired Meowclops and gave a loud, boisterous yawn. His neck cracked from sleeping downward.

     “It’s fine,” he asserted. “Let’s get ready to go.”

     It didn’t take long for Rohane to don his now sparkling armour. It looks even better now than when I bought it, he thought with amusement. Reaching into his bag, he removed one of the swords he picked up as an item drop, the one he was going to sell at the next vendor, and left it on the soda stand with a quick note that read:

      Thanks for your kindness yesterday. I hope this will cover the costs of the damage. Until we meet again.

     ~Rohane

     Before they left, a few of the patrons rushed out to Rohane and Velm, eagerly shaking their paws. One of them, a young Usul swordswoman, begged Rohane for his autograph.

     “Alright, alright,” he relented, clearly uncomfortable from all the attention.

     “One day, I’ll be just like you!” she beamed, hugging the signed parchment. “A singing swordsman, who knew there could be such a thing!”

     Talinia patted Rohane on the back as he slumped down. “Yeah… who knew?”

     A small distance from the inn, Rohane turned to them and said, “we’re going to need to double our training from here on out.”

     Mipsy did a double-take. “For what reason? Is there something out there that’s that dangerous?”

     He nodded; his gaze turned upwards. “Yes, I believe there is.”

     “And what’s that?” Talinia seemed sincerely confused, for as far as she knew, they would be returning to Meridell after defeating the Esophagor.

     “A dragon,” said Rohane simply. “A dragon has taken over Faerieland. After we defeat the Esophagor, we’re going to slay it and save the Queen.”

     The End.

      Author’s note: A huge thank you to Precious_Katuch14 for letting me use her characters in this series, and for giving me feedback, advice, and encouragement throughout the entire writing process. You’re an inspiration!