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Fantasy Fiction -the Bard and the Adventurer

Author | Audiobook narrator | Singer


Fantasy Fiction "Elves and Fantasy" in bold purple neon lettering. Diaries and letters under it in calligraphic lettering. A purple and green fragon on the side with a blue and purple smoke over a purple moon.

Short story in my “Elves and Fantasy” fantasy fiction section. The story is about an adventurer that fell in love with a bard and glorified him. The story is a bittersweet reminder that we don’t know the people behind the screens or on the stages.

I use the help of AI for punctuation (I do change some things) and the help of Grammarly to do my own edits, while they don’t replace editors I do have to make do with free-to-use tools currently.


Short Story – the Bard and the Adventurer pt I (Meredith) – Fantasy Fiction

„Dear Rorik”

Forgive me, kind sir, but I must write to you. My heart can love in secrecy no more.

You see, ever since I was a young lass visiting the Rorian Tavern, I have found the stories of the endless exploits told in your songs most fascinating. I honestly cannot tell whether I am more captivated by the melodies of the lute or the poetical words falling from your lips.

Tonight was no different. Sometimes I wonder if you have taken notice of me, the way I am almost stunned in place every time you make your appearance. The grace with which your fingers move across the fingerboard has me mesmerized. The gracious smile you hold, while looking into the distance across the heads of men and women dancing, has weakened my knees on more than one occasion.

Well, fret not. My love for you is unwavering. Reply to me or not.

Women must fall around your neck like fleas anyway. I am more than sure you are most accustomed to this. Surely, the man who fought dragons and wrote songs about them is not afraid of a lady sending him letters.

Yours truly,


„Dear Rorik”

It has been a while since I heard your voice, but know this: the melodies keep playing in my head, lulling me to sleep in this godless land. I thought that venturing out from the settlement would bring me closer to your world and maybe I could come to understand the meaning behind your poetry.

But so far, I have only found that this land I call my home has planted a seed, a seed in which we drink wine in the taverns and sleep between silken sheets while the country is plagued by famine and ransackers. Greed and power are what drive this land to its demise while we glorify ruthless Gods in songs and poetry, and men who saved the world with swords and pikes. This land surely does need a hero, a hero like you, I suppose, a hero that sings away the pain and misery.

The gap between the people I have encountered on my travels and us, from the false safety of the city walls and the strolling of guards, is as if cut with a sword. How are we to fight the evils that plague this land if we are blind to our own darkness?

I have come to the conclusion: music saves us from the harshness of this world. Maybe I should have picked up the lute instead of my rapier. Maybe I should have sung songs about the bard that I love instead of fighting soulless husks that thrive in the wild.

Yours Truly,



„Dear Rorik”

I am not afraid of the goblins, bandits, or the forsaken souls that I have encountered on my path, many of them meeting their end by the grace of my rapier. Men have proven to be worse in the ways they cause pain and suffering to others. I have become wary of the people that say they mean no harm, men that say they worship the true God, the one and mighty. The God that left the bodies of the hungry to wither, the God that allowed them to rise from their slumber and prey on the living they left behind.

I have found that we are no different, me and you, them and us. The poor are poor and the rich are disgustingly rich. The dead rise from the soil we bury them, and the living are dead inside. But still, we love without knowing why. We live by the rules someone created. Can you see now, my dearest, how my love for you is nothing but a ray of sun?

Yes, I am more afraid of the endless turmoil of living what seems to be forever and not being loved by you. Not even for a while, not ever laying my head on your chest and believing in the safety of your arms around me…

This world is cruel without you.

Yours Truly,


„Dear Rorik”

I thought I would meet my end today. The pirates of the Ocean that no man dares to name ransacked our village. The children and the women were taken alike, with the little valuables there were left – two sacks of grain and bread that was harder than a rock.

I managed to hide under the hides of boars that I have hunted and skinned for the benefit of this settlement. There aren’t many of us left, and there is little hope of surviving. Men that returned from the day at sea came to find their wives and children missing.

I was overwhelmed; there was nothing I could do, and still, I feel guilty for hiding.

I wish you were here to hold me through the night, if even for one night. I have never seen such pain in the eyes of men. No darkness of the soulless and lost could compare to the humans that raise their hand towards fellow living.

Oh, my dearest Rorik. How have you been? Do you still play at the Rorian Tavern? Do you still sing the song of the one that single-handedly killed the Dragon of Alcanmore?

And do you remember the girl that fell for you just from watching you perform?

Yours Truly,



„Dear Meredith”

Am truly flattered by your interest in me, but the faith you have rested in me is left unfounded. I am nothing but a bard with the imagination of a child. Never have I ever wielded any weapon but the lute my grandfather gave me or the words that fall from my drunken fingers.

The poetry stems from the rumors and stories told in the tavern by those that have come for mead and women. The tavern is my home, my only pay for my work – a room with a bed and nothing more.

My fair lady, can you see how I have nothing to offer to someone as adventurous as you? Perhaps I will turn some of the stories you have told me into poetry to sing in your name – the bringer of love, the Goddess of Justice that wields her rapier against the darkness of being human, the ego.

That is all I can offer you, and nothing more. If you were wise, you would stay afar, my dear. But if you find yourself a little bonkers, come listen to the songs I wrote.

Yours truly,

Rorik the bard

Thank You written in neon lilac with a green and purple dragon on the side. Subscribe and follow below it and blue-purple smoke over purple moon.

Links To My Work

Poetry: Dragon of Alcanmore, Poetry of a Love So Cold.

Stories: Six-Sentence Stories, Short Stories, Romance and All That, Elves and Fantasy

Posts on music that I love are here.

My band can be listened to on YouTubeSpotify and other streaming services.


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