
“And that’s when the bugger gave me this!” the dwarf shouted, leaning back in his chair and kicking up a metallic foot. A twisted sense of pride shone in his blackish brown eyes. His gray beard tumbled down his chest, resting at the middle of his stomach. “There I sat, down a leg, missing me trousers, and dangling from a willow tree—”
“And this somehow didn’t kill you?” a gruff man across the table asked, staring at the dwarf with a single dark blue eye, a simple cloth covering the other.
“Hm? Of course it didn't, Cargan! I’m sittin’ here speakin’ to ya, aren’t I?!” the dwarf retorted with a cough. “If I had been killed, I wouldn’t rightly be here sittin’ here now!”
“I’m just saying, Parlik.” Cargan began, running his hands through his short brown hair. “What you’re describing is quite the tale. Such an encounter with a wyvern rarely leaves one so... alive.”
“And what would you know?! Have you ever stared down the flaring snout of an angered wyvern?! I would think not!” Parlik retorted, chugging ale from the tankard in his hand.
Cargan chuckled. “You sure you still need that, old man? Your senses seem pretty dulled already.”
Parlik frowned. “Shut yer mouth. I’m many things, but a liar ain’t one!”
“Now now, gentlemen,” another man at the table spoke, holding up both hands to silence the two bickering men. “It is quite the story no matter how you look at it. If he’s telling the truth, then old Parlik here is much more resilient than you give him credit for, Cargan. However,” he continued with a twirl of his hand, “if it happens that Parlik is stretching the truth or making the story up entirely, then he is much more clever than even I give him credit for.”
Parlik slammed the tankard down on the table with a belch. “See?! The elf believes me! I’d ‘ave expected more sense from you of all people, Cargan!”
Cargan pinched the bridge of his slightly crooked nose with a sigh. “Thank you, Vafir. Now I’ll have to deal with this old fart’s stories for the rest of the night."
Vafir chuckled, brushing his long golden hair from his face. His silver eyes studied the two men next to him with a fiendish grin. “Come now. I can’t be expected to be the only storyteller here.”
“And what stories could you possibly have, Vafir?” Cargan snorted.
Vafir raised an eyebrow at Cargan. “You doubt my wit?”
“Indeed I do.” Cargan said with a smirk. “I bet you can’t come up with a better story than ol’ Parlik’s.”
“Which was entirely true!” Parlik cut in.
Cargan glanced over at Parlik. “Just go back to your ale, Parlik,” he said, turning his attention back to Vafir. “If you can find a better story in that massive head of yours, I’ll buy your drinks for a month.”
“You want me to think of a story for you? All right then, young ‘un.” Vafir leaned forward with a flourish. “What story are you looking for?”
Cargan rolled his eyes. “I don’t care, ya pompous airhead. Just none of these tall tales of yours,” Cargan sneered. “I’ve had enough fairy tales from Parlik,”
Vafir sat up in his chair, smoothing out his cloak. “If you insist,” he said in a near singsong voice. He cleared his throat and leaned forward. “What would you gentlemen say if I told you there was a world outside of this one? A world where stories of grandeur are just that: stories. And one such story being told in that world begins right now with three men in a tavern. One jaded old adventurer trying to entertain a younger generation, one skeptical ex-soldier with no sense of humor and no affinity for the fantastic, and a dashing man who was willing to educate them.”
Cargan sighed. “Vafir when I told you to think of a story, I didn’t want you to patronize me. Besides, in what world would somebody start a story with no context? Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of a story?”
“Not in one intended for entertainment,” Vafir responded, grining. “Can you disprove my story?”
“Obviously I can,” Cargan snapped.
“Oh really?” Vafir leaned towards Cargan, resting his head on his hands, “Then tell me where you were before this.”
“That’s easy!” Cargan chuckled. “I came from...” Cargan furrowed his brow in contemplation. “Hold on.”
“I was...”
Cargan’s smile faded.
“And this somehow didn’t kill you?” a gruff man across the table asked, staring at the dwarf with a single dark blue eye, a simple cloth covering the other.
“Hm? Of course it didn't, Cargan! I’m sittin’ here speakin’ to ya, aren’t I?!” the dwarf retorted with a cough. “If I had been killed, I wouldn’t rightly be here sittin’ here now!”
“I’m just saying, Parlik.” Cargan began, running his hands through his short brown hair. “What you’re describing is quite the tale. Such an encounter with a wyvern rarely leaves one so... alive.”
“And what would you know?! Have you ever stared down the flaring snout of an angered wyvern?! I would think not!” Parlik retorted, chugging ale from the tankard in his hand.
Cargan chuckled. “You sure you still need that, old man? Your senses seem pretty dulled already.”
Parlik frowned. “Shut yer mouth. I’m many things, but a liar ain’t one!”
“Now now, gentlemen,” another man at the table spoke, holding up both hands to silence the two bickering men. “It is quite the story no matter how you look at it. If he’s telling the truth, then old Parlik here is much more resilient than you give him credit for, Cargan. However,” he continued with a twirl of his hand, “if it happens that Parlik is stretching the truth or making the story up entirely, then he is much more clever than even I give him credit for.”
Parlik slammed the tankard down on the table with a belch. “See?! The elf believes me! I’d ‘ave expected more sense from you of all people, Cargan!”
Cargan pinched the bridge of his slightly crooked nose with a sigh. “Thank you, Vafir. Now I’ll have to deal with this old fart’s stories for the rest of the night."
Vafir chuckled, brushing his long golden hair from his face. His silver eyes studied the two men next to him with a fiendish grin. “Come now. I can’t be expected to be the only storyteller here.”
“And what stories could you possibly have, Vafir?” Cargan snorted.
Vafir raised an eyebrow at Cargan. “You doubt my wit?”
“Indeed I do.” Cargan said with a smirk. “I bet you can’t come up with a better story than ol’ Parlik’s.”
“Which was entirely true!” Parlik cut in.
Cargan glanced over at Parlik. “Just go back to your ale, Parlik,” he said, turning his attention back to Vafir. “If you can find a better story in that massive head of yours, I’ll buy your drinks for a month.”
“You want me to think of a story for you? All right then, young ‘un.” Vafir leaned forward with a flourish. “What story are you looking for?”
Cargan rolled his eyes. “I don’t care, ya pompous airhead. Just none of these tall tales of yours,” Cargan sneered. “I’ve had enough fairy tales from Parlik,”
Vafir sat up in his chair, smoothing out his cloak. “If you insist,” he said in a near singsong voice. He cleared his throat and leaned forward. “What would you gentlemen say if I told you there was a world outside of this one? A world where stories of grandeur are just that: stories. And one such story being told in that world begins right now with three men in a tavern. One jaded old adventurer trying to entertain a younger generation, one skeptical ex-soldier with no sense of humor and no affinity for the fantastic, and a dashing man who was willing to educate them.”
Cargan sighed. “Vafir when I told you to think of a story, I didn’t want you to patronize me. Besides, in what world would somebody start a story with no context? Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of a story?”
“Not in one intended for entertainment,” Vafir responded, grining. “Can you disprove my story?”
“Obviously I can,” Cargan snapped.
“Oh really?” Vafir leaned towards Cargan, resting his head on his hands, “Then tell me where you were before this.”
“That’s easy!” Cargan chuckled. “I came from...” Cargan furrowed his brow in contemplation. “Hold on.”
“I was...”
Cargan’s smile faded.
Ben Kockelman, a senior from Shakopee High School, comments, "I have always enjoyed reading books of fantastic worlds such as J.R.R Tolkein's books within Middle Earth. This submission is my attempt to poke fun at different fantasy stories that jump the gun with their adventures or fantastical tales."
*Ben's piece was chosen as the Short Fiction Category Award Winner for its well-written dialogue, good integration of fantasy tropes, and for the way that its ending plays with the meta of the genre. Congratulations Ben!
*Picture provided by editors
*Ben's piece was chosen as the Short Fiction Category Award Winner for its well-written dialogue, good integration of fantasy tropes, and for the way that its ending plays with the meta of the genre. Congratulations Ben!
*Picture provided by editors