Scene One - of Ale and Tales

Three in front - one, maybe two behind... I need to even the odds!!
"Friends - it was just a jest.. surely we can resolve this with a jug of ale ?"
Quite proud of his voice control.. not a hint of the chill of terror creeping up his back ready to strangle his vocal chords...
He shifted the lute to his right hand and waved it away from him... giving every appearance of openness and vulnerability..

The largest was in front of him, a swaggering brute dressed in old stained leathers, a rusty chain shirt and boils on his left cheek - half hidden by an unkempt beard that had every sign of being pulled out by the roots whenever it annoyed its keeper - thrust his face towards him... a sour stench of rotten cabbage and cheap beer.

"Well little man - me and my comrades are gonna have to rip your tongue out of your ears and tie it round your lute and stuff it right up your trumpet" he seemed pleased with his turn of phrase, grinning at his supporters, and given other circumstances the bard would have applauded the choice of words. There was a poetic ring to the phrase...
He moved slightly to his left - not too far . Not wanting to bump into any unknown predators behind him, but his movement now meant that Boils was directly in front of him, blocking the approach of the others...

He didn't dare to take his eyes away from those leering down at him ...
Where the hell was Thorgrimm... he had got him into this mess ..
But now it seemed that Thorgrimm had little wish to include himself in the troubles of a travelling Bard who had chosen the wrong song to sing...
Thorgrimm, Northman, six foot six tall, broad of shoulder, wolf pelt covering his hand forged chain mail shirt, Thorgrimm who travelled the high road alone and with no known allegiance... Thorgrimm who kept his story to himself... and Thorgrimm.. last seen pulling one of the wenches onto his lap while explaining the best way to weigh her breasts.....
"Please Gods !! don't let him have taken a room with her while I was singing... it was only a few verses!! He was never that fast before.."
In reality - he could not be sure - he had only met with the Northman a day before and had little idea of his habits - only a respect for his abilities with his mighty Dane axes, sword and shield..... and the hope that he would come to his aid ...

But now it seemed unlikely and his only hope was in a silver tongue and a nimble brain... two skills that he had honed through many years as he made his way through the Bard's guild.....

"I think your friend needs some help" giggled Aleesha as she tried to twist out of Thorgrimm's arms.. a half empty jug of ale swinging from her left hand as she used her right to push his from her breast.. Her grubby cotton shift hung open at her front but the leather belt at her waist was pulled in tight and showed her young figure at its best. She ground her body over his groin as she played at escape...
"Friend ?? Let the Gods take the little fellow !! He got himself into it - I have better things on my mind" and his face thrust into her cleavage making her scream with laughter...

Boils made his move - a clumsy charge with outstretched hands grabbing where the bard's throat had been a second before. The casual move to the left had drawn Boils in that direction while the lute in his right hand gave the bard the balance he needed to duck under the arm. Holding his breath at the under-arm stench he kicked back with his left foot - hard into the back of his attacker. The kick was good - caught the charging man in the bottom of his spine adding to the momentum and piling him into the one or two attackers that had been behind. The bard did not turn to count them. There were still two in front of him, but the element of surprise was now his.
Their view had been blocked by the mass that was Boils so they little expected to find the elderly minstrel dodging between them.

Swapping the Lute to his left hand and reversing it so that the base of the instrument was protected behind his arm, he lowered his right shoulder to barge into the chest of the first attacker. As large as Boils, and no prettier. His eyes were bloodshot and drunken spittle exploded from his mouth as his wind was knocked out of him. Like a long lost lover he opened his arms to to complete a bearhug but the bard had once again side stepped and using the neck of the lute in his fist as extra weight - he stabbed his fist into the waiting throat...

"Damn.. that is going to hurt and stop me playing for a few days!" he thought as he held on tightly to the instrument with aching fingers.

Only one more he thought as he twisted in a full circle - bringing the lute around so the iron band that had been welded to the rear of the sound box caught the third adversary in the shins causing a surprised yell through broken teeth. Swinging the lute on its strap he swung it back into his right hand and held it like a bat waiting for a ball - and as broken teeth raised himself the iron band struck him sharply over the back of his head.

"Three" thought Wulf as he carried forward without stopping or looking... "Almost a Waltz..."

The whole attack had taken only about 7 seconds - not much longer than he had been allowed to sing his song. A bad choice he knew now - but he had not seen the sigils sewn into the filthy cloaks of drunken mob in the corner or he would not have chosen to sing the Lay of Llangoren, a bawdy song concerning the Queen, several dark elves and an aubergine......
Normally a guarantee of a coin or two and a jug of ale ... he wasn't to know that the rabble were pledged to the Queen as well as being well in their cups!.

"Only a few yards to the door" he thought - "I am too old for this!!! A man should be given a little respect when he is nearing his 60th nameday"
Still not looking back to see what havoc he had caused, nor how near his adversaries were, he made his way through the smoke and stale air towards the large ill fitting wooden door, heavy and beer stained, hoping that it would open easily.
Thorgrimm watched the ruckus out of one eye, while his hands remained actively involved trying to keep a wriggling Aleesha firmly on his lap, juggling his ale and her wares.
He watched as the old man, surprisingly sprightly on his feet weaved his way passed his attackers. Six foot tall when standing upright, long silver hair falling to his shoulders and a head band of tooled leather about his head bearing a silver emblem of a wolf. Stomach a little portly, showing signs of many good meals and time spent in taverns and Lord' banquets. His shirt a little threadbare with signs of many roadside repairs, and patches on his leather trews suggesting that recent times were not quite so good as his younger days.

He was quietly impressed with the turn of speed from the old man - but they had been traveling for a day and the old bard continued to display unexpected traits... But from his vantage point it was clear that old fellow would not manage to open the door before he was engulfed by the five Queen's Men..

With a sigh he dropped Aleesha unceremoniously to the floor - and stood - ale in hand and walked into the narrow gap between the crude tables filled with the boisterous and drunken customers who were now beginning to take notice of the chase... and get into the spirit of evening's impromptu entertainment
One group, looking like sea-farers with wild tattoos across every part of available skin started banging mugs on the table in rhythm, shouting "Fight!! Fight !! Fight" The refrain was soon picked up at other tables.

Throgrimm stood up and stretched as the first of the five bumped into him with a curse. Ale splashed from Thorgimm's tankard into the face of one of the chanters..

It was difficult to say who appeared the more angry - the chanter - spluttering as he stood, turning the table over as he rose, or the first of the five Queen's men who found himself brought to a sudden stop as he hit that wall of chain and leather and steel that was the fully armoured Thorgrimm, now drawn up to his full height. Well armoured with a Dane axe to his side and sword sheathed at his left, his girth suggested too many good meals, but it would be a fool who assumed that his weight was only fat. There was clear sign of the warrior about him... the way he stood, large but balanced. The way of a professional fighter, of one who lives by the sword and the axe.

The five were brought to a stop like a set of dice against a wall. Thorgrimm turned and looked at them - though probably the same height as Boils, he appeared to tower over them as he said in a deceptively quiet voice "You spilled my ale"
"What of it - I am going to turn that squeeker into mush" yelled Boils as he started thrusting his way passed his comrades.
Thorgrimm stepped slightly to his left, allowing the ale covered seafarer to finish turning his table over his companions - who were now rising to fight each other...

Boils started to pass Thorgrimm as a grip of iron took him by the throat and half lifted him from the ground...
"You spilled my ale" Thorgrimm said again - in the same quiet voice....
Boils, feet dragging over the ground, felt himself turned towards the angry group still freeing themselves from the broken table. An earthen ware jug smashed down upon his head as Thorgrimm dropped him into the melee....
Broken tooth wanted none of the big man and backed off with his companions back to their table - Leaving Boils and his new fighting associates to spread the fight towards the other end of the tavern.

Thorgrimm leaned across to where Boils and his band had been sitting and picked up the earthenware jug still full of ale and turned to leave the room. Picking up his Double Handed Dane Axe, almost as tall as he, he sauntered towards the door, giving Aleesha a wink as she sat cursing him on the floor....

The bard was still struggling but had just managed to lift the heavy rope handle, and was tugging at the door to open it inwards as Thorgrimm reached out and swung it open with ease. Swinging his lute over his shoulder, the minstrel grabbed a loaf of bread and some cheese from a platter on the nearest table - the occupants never noticing as they watched the chairs being thrown around the room... They both walked into the chill of the evening..

As the door closed behind them they could hear the barkeep shouting for order, and the ominous crack of the barkeep's sap hitting skull as order was restored...

"You took your time" said the breathless Bard as he tore a lump out of the bread and handed it to Thorgrimm.
"I never liked that song" answered Thorgrimm as he handed over the jug of ale... "you cost me a woman"...
"Nah - we'll sleep in the barn - she'll turn up later" was the surprising reply.
"Unlikely" said the glum Thorgrimm thinking of his last view of her cursing him as she sat on the floor with her shift around her thighs"
"Oh, she'll come... and her friend - the red-head... I spoke with her ... Trust me ... I'm Vollsanger"