Another all night performance. And as predicted I made a killing.
When some of the more frivolous and free spenders got in the beginnings of their drunkenness, a man asked me how much longer until his song. I told him that he had three more to wait. At that point he asked in a whisper, that could only be considered a whisper by drunk standards, others would call it a quiet shout, if there was any way he might get his song played sooner.
I decided to capitalize on it and told him that I was just a humble bard and in order to make enough to pay for room and board, I must play each song in turn. His eyes glimmered as he patted his coin purse and offered me three times as much. I told him I just remember that the patron who was next had requested the same song and he slid the money into my hand with a grin.
Well, it took little time for others to understand and two rather impatient young women came over at the same time and started a bidding war on who was to be next. Needless to say, I still slipped in most of the songs to the order they were meant to be in, for I do not want to ostracize the regulars of Fjori’s.
When at last Fjori closed the bar, I heard a man complaining bitterly about how unfair it was that a fancy man like me could dominate the night’s entertainment and how rude it was that everything came with a price. I sat besides him at the bar for my after performance drink and struck up a conversation with him.
At first he was very defensive. Not just in his words, but his whole body language, the way he drank his mead, his posture, it all read defensive. But as we continued to speak, he seemed to relax a minute amount. I asked if I had not sung his favorite tune, or if I had done it injustice. He told me a Dunmer would never know such a song, so I asked him what it was.
It was the song of Ysgramor. Without any hesitation I pulled out my lute and began to play it. He was astonished at first, then seemed angry as I began the words. I kept playing, but asked if he would not show me the proper way to sing such a lovely song. He started, a bit defiant and gruff at first, but then clearer and stronger as he got lost in the lyrics. I joined him in the last verse and he ended the song calmly. I placed a hand upon his, thanked him, and stood to leave.
He called out to me, grabbing my wrist. At first with insult, but then he stopping and correcting himself, asking for my name. I gave it to him and asked his. Brunwulf, he told me. I asked about his lodgings and he told me his uncle’s house by the marketplace. I escorted him back and found that said uncle was away until Middas. He invited me in by his fire for a drink. Although he was nervous and told me more than once that he was not inclined to men, or Dunmer, or Dunmer men, I found myself in his bed. He performed admirably for what was clearly his first time with Mer or man.
He was the type who afterwards, instead of drifting off to sleep, feels the need to babble on like a child. But it was not without its rewards. He told me where his uncle has secret supplies and, perhaps more importantly, he has told me of a secret entrance to a location under the old watch tower where one can purchase more unseemly goods. I shall have to let Qau-dar know if he has not yet discovered it.
At any rate, he has finally fallen asleep and I can head back to the inn. I am exhausted and there is much to accomplish tomorrow.