I told myself I wouldn't cry when I left home. That I was like my father: a perfect, true war elf with no emotions and a heart of stone. But I just couldn't help myself. Hugging all of my big, terribly strong family goodbye had me digging my nails into my wrist to keep the tears from flowing. We all stood at the entrance of the village. I was holding the straps of my bag tightly. My flute was latched to my belt. And I was ready. 

"Well!" I smiled at them, trying to not let my expression or voice waver. "I'll try to write when possible. I'll be off."

"Stay safe, Cahira." Father said, his arms crossed. He looked away. "We'll miss you."

"Yeah, miss beating you up." Garrick snorted.

Elre smiled back at me. "Don't get hurt."

"We love you." Mother clasped her hands together.

"Come back when there's a war!" The twins said together.

I nodded. "I love you too. I promise I'll make you guys proud. Goodbye."

I quickly turned away and started walking down the path. As soon as I exited the gates, a rush ran through me. This was it. I was leaving my village. The place I had grown up in, stayed for a big part of my life. It was surreal. I almost had a hard time believing this was real life and not just some dream. I was actually leaving. 

The further I got away from home, the more anxious I became. I started to question myself. Was this really something I should be doing? Was I good enough? I knew that the people in my village liked my music. But I was the daughter of the matriarch and patriarch. They could just be saying it to appease me and my parents. Not that anything would happen if they did speak badly of my music and stories.

I kicked a rock and sighed. This wasn't fair of anyone. Especially not myself. I made a choice. While I could always go back, I needed to do this. So I continued walking. And walking. I passed by other villages. I took everything in, wrote down some of the sites, and even offered to play music for others. A new life. A new me. A new bard.

Everything felt so new. It would be another world once I got to Elfil Forest. The villages around here were small, but still a pleasure to pass through. Especially since I've been surrounded by war elves my whole life. The only time I'd see other people was when we had diplomatic visits. And those were a drag because I never got to interact with them.

The end of the day came quickly. And I was finally going to achieve one of my dreams: staying at an inn and having dinner at a tavern. It was something all travelers did. After paying for a room and setting my stuff on the bed, I set out for the tavern. It was a small human village with definitely no more than five hundred residents. The type of town perfect for passing through. The type of town where everyone knows each other. I grasped my journal tightly in my hand as I walked over to the tavern. I took a deep breath and walked inside.

The place was mostly humans. There were several orcs, elves, and dwarves littered about. There was no music. Only chatter that happened to quiet down as I looked around. Of course. I gave a big smile and made my way over to the bar. There were only two people sitting there. I took a seat in the middle, slamming down my journal with a tired huff. 

"One big cup of mead, please!"

The bartender took one look at me and snorted. "Are you sure you can handle that, sweetheart?"

I snorted right back at him. "Of course I am! War elves are known for being able to hold their liquor, you know."

He hummed skeptically but obliged anyway. It was a lie, of course. My siblings were notorious for not being able to hold their liquor at all. I could barely take several sips without getting tipsy. But no one needed to know that. This was my moment to act like a true adventurer, drinking at a tavern after a long day of traveling. I opened my journal and took another look around the tavern. 

Oh yeah, this was prime bard material. A drab tavern, filled with shady patrons? I could write a song or two about this. I started to jot down some details accompanied with messy sketches. Everything I've ever written, from songs to stories, was in this journal. Most of it would seem like brainless ramblings to others, but it was filled with stories. At least, I believed so.

I started to hum as I wrote, the notes going along with what I wrote. I didn't even notice that the bartender had set my drink in front of me. He leaned over curiously, his thick eyebrows furrowing. My gaze flickered upwards before going back down. I started to sketch him. He looked like what I imagined every tavern barkeep to look like: scruffy beard, tired face, and muscular.

"You some kind of artist?"

"Definitely not." I said, sketching what looked like a stick figure with buff arms. "But I am a bard."

His eyes lit up. "A bard? It just so happens that we haven't had any music here in ages."

I set down my pencil and dragged the mug filled with mead towards me. I sniffed it then scrunched my nose. "Sorry, mister, I don't have my flute with me. I doubt you'd want to hear me sing."

The bartender huffed and reached below the counter and brought out a viol. He slammed it down on the counter. Does he just… always have that there? It was covered in dust, the strings looking slightly rusted. The bow was in worse wear. It was fraying and looked like it had been through a lot. I may have been a bard, but I was no mage. I couldn't magically make this sound amazing. 

I grabbed the viol and started fiddling with the tuning pegs, plucking the strings. The sound was tinny and sharp. It wouldn't sound the best, but it would sound decent. I then grabbed the bow. It was definitely worse for wear. I reached into one of my belt pouches and brought out some rosin. It was made of wood sap, heated and cooled to the perfect consistency. Homemade. I ran it over the bow several times, trying to smooth down the flyaway long hairs and then stood.

"Are you sure the patrons won't get mad at me?" I smiled, setting down the viol. I grabbed the mead and took a large chug. "Blegh! This is gross!"

"I told you."

"Whatever." I hummed and picked the viol and bow back up.

The bartender smirked. "As long as you're good. But if you're bad, I won't help you if they riot."

Perfect. I cleared my throat before closing my eyes. I knew the perfect tune to play for a place like this. My fingers pressed against the strings as I started to move the bow. Every head turned in my direction. This was it. The feeling of making people happy with music. The tune was happy and light. I could feel a buzzing feeling washing over me, starting in my chest and spreading through my limbs.

As I played, I made my way through the tavern. I grinned and hummed along with the music, urging everyone to let themselves loose and dance. Some were reluctant, but others were drunk enough to stand up and start moving in what was supposed to be dancing. The occasional giggle would leave my lips as I continued to play.

The buzzing feeling grew stronger. I didn't know what it was. When I played music with the other war elves in the tavern back at home, none of them felt the same. I would say it was magic, but that was rare, even for elves. Maybe it was just fate. A sign that I was truly meant to make music. My feet moved smoothly between all the tables, chairs, and people. My head felt light and my fingers were on fire.

"What the hell is this noise?!"

My nose scrunched. I closed my eyes and ignored the angry looking man that just barged in. I continued to play. The energy had gone down, but I wasn't going to let that stop me. Even as he grumbled and moved his way over to the bar, I kept playing. I always got into a trance. I made my way back over to the bar as I played.

"I said to stop!" The man yelled, grabbing the back of my collar and yanking it.

"Hey!"

I let out a yelp and struggled against his grip. The tavern was sucked of all good vibes, back to the dreary atmosphere. Everyone avoided eye contact and stayed in their seats. This wasn't good. There was no way I could fight against this mountain of a man. The bartender slammed a mug down on the counter, a warning to not fight inside. Of course he wouldn't come to my defense. I was a stranger, after all. Nothing but an outsider.

"Unhand me, you brute!" I hissed, clawing at the collar that was digging into the skin of my neck.

The man grunted as he threw me to the ground. The viol clattered down next to me. "Stop playing that noise, pipsqueak."

I held back a growl. "I'm a Northern War Elf. If anyone's a pipsqueak, it's you. How pathetic do you have to be to ruin a good time?"

Those were the wrong words. Those were most definitely the most idiotic words I have ever spoken. The man stood up, his face as red as a tomato. I squeaked and grabbed the viol and bow, holding them close to my chest. I quickly stood up and backed towards the door.

"You'll pay for that." 

"Can I get an IOU?"

He snarled at me. "Let's see how good of a war elf you are."

Oh, I am so screwed.