Grondle's first campfire story

By listening to my mother, Belloie, speak at dinner, remembering some of the wandering elvish yarns that my father, Gambollark, spun around around a campfire, and by talking with Chompy Obesefast and some of the other sons of lesser nobles, I think I have managed to piece together the tale of my parents meeting and how I came to be.

Gambollark, though normally preferring to spend his time away from town, especially at night, had ventured into Darby to trade some items, probably weapons, that he had `accumulated' during his recent travels. Personally, I think he also had a taste for some of our good Darby beer and maybe a song or two. He was sitting at a bar, I don't know if it was the Wi(a)nking Troll, when he caught the hint of an early autumn chill on the evening air blown through the door. A chill of that type stirs folk like Gambollark into action, and so he became quickly tired of the bar stool and ``99 goblets of beer on the wall'' and set out for a walk. In elvish fashion, he walked idly about town, amused by the sights, sounds, and smells of an area of mostly human civilization, not really paying any attention to where he was going.

As he walked, the route soon became quiet, the streets smaller, and the houses larger, more brightly lit, and better guarded. The human side of me knows that elves are not known for quite or stoic mannerisms, but I'm sure that a solitary elf of Gambollark's abilities walking by on the street at night would go unnoticed by just about everyone, even the paid watchmen of the guard. So it was that he somewhat arbitrarily managed to end up near the upmost part of town, probably somewhere near Kire's estate.

As he was walking through the neighborhood, Gambollark became aware of a beautiful sound, a sound which I have known all of my life, emanating from the windows of one of the nearby estates. It was the sound of the woman Belloie singing; and she was singing an elvish song. Normally the voice of a human woman has little effect on the hearts of elves, but there was an unmistakeably elvish quality to this woman's voice, and the human accent with its halting pronounciation lent an air of mischief to the song that he had never heard before.

Now this woman was singing for the amusement of the other guests at Lord Obesefast's annual fall party, and we all know that old farts like Lord Obesefast simply cannot stand uninvited guests. But Gambollark had an unexplainable presence that must have charmed the curmudgeon, for he soon found himself in the drawing room laughing and drinking with the other guests, and listening to the singing of a tall, beautiful, blond-haired woman. Chompy has hinted that the day after his party, his father went out and bought a fancy new charger, the son of a champion, that he had been eyeing, and that his mother suddenly started wearing a new emerald necklace.

As the woman sang, she turned about to face various members of the audience, and when she turned to face Gambollark there was a hint of an elvish twinkle in her large blue eyes, and we all know that twinkle was for Gambollark alone. Needless to say, when she had finished, Gambollark took his turn at song, but it was a much older elvish song that soon became a duet. Of course, there was inevitable jealousy in the eyes of the sons of men, for Belloie was the most eligible young woman of genteel stature.

My grandfather was wary of Gambollark, and tried his best to rush her home after the party and avoid the enamoured elf. He cloistered her in her room, for he new that if Gambollark got a hold of her, he would never be able to marry her away to a rich, young nobleman.

Needless to say, Gambollark somehow managed to sneak past the servants at my grandfather's house, which really isn't much trouble because Chauncy always went to bed early and snored like a demon and Concepcion was busy scrubbing the fire pit in the kitchen after dinner. Also my grandfather was old, sick, and growing deaf. Gambollark nimbly let himself into Belloie's room and took her right there, under my grandfather's nose.

Incidentally, my grandfather was a successful merchant. He grew rich trading between Darby and Istasebul, taking advantage of the regular caravans. He was very embarrased by my mother's pregnancy, and never showed any sign of respect for the wily elf, whenever he passed by, even for my sake. No one would ever want to marry his daughter, and he considered himself to be a victim of yet another frivolous elf. He seemed to forget that his own grandson was half elf, and might be deeply hurt by the things that he said about elves and my father. He died when I was about six years old. To his credit he left all of his money in trust for my mother and I. There is an account for my mother that pretty much takes care her, the estate, horses, and the two servants, and an account for myself.

There is more to say about my father. He was, or perhaps still is, a very peculiar elf, and I learned a lot of things from him, even though he left me during adolescence, when I needed him the most. I will save that for another night………..

tom_s_characters/grondle/grondle_s_first_campfire_story.txt · Last modified: 10-Aug-2014 15:25 (external edit)
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