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Library: The Bard and the unexpected lizard

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Author: louen
Date:Aug 29 2025

In the heart of the City of Mountain Dwarfs, nestled among jagged cliffs and
hidden valleys, lived a dwarf bard named Louen Lekamies. With a lute slung
across his broad back and a small satchel of enchanted quills at his belt,
Louen had traveled farther than most dwarves dared to dream. Yet, for all his
journeys, he had never faced a creature as formidable as the fabled red dragon
of Newbie Mountain. For weeks, the dwarven halls had buzzed with tales of the
dragon?s golden hoard and its fiery temper. Louen, despite his stature and
love for song, had sworn to himself that he would compose a ballad worthy of
the ages?one sung in the shadow of the dragon itself. He tightened the straps
on his leather boots, tuned his lute, and set off at dawn, the first notes of
a daring melody humming in his throat.

The climb was treacherous. Crags jutted out like jagged teeth, and icy winds
cut through his cloak. Every few steps, Louen paused, huffing and puffing more
than he cared to admit. He tugged at his tunic, hoping the extra room in his
belt would hold, and muttered under his breath, ?By Amarth, greatest bard of
all dwarves, lend me the courage to climb these cursed rocks!? Strumming a
gentle tune to lift his spirits, he continued upward, though each note was
punctuated by a wheeze or a grunt. Halfway up a particularly narrow ledge,
Louen stopped again, leaning heavily on his lute. ?I? I think these boots were
made for marching halls, not mountain climbs. Amarth himself never had to haul
a belly like mine up a cliff!? he wheezed, wiping sweat from his brow. He
struck a dramatic pose?one hand clutching the rock, the other raised toward
the sky?and added loudly, ?Guide my fingers, O Amarth! Let my ballads be as
fearless as your legendary lute solos!? Even the mountain winds seemed to
chuckle at his proclamation.

Hours later, Louen crested a narrow ridge and paused to catch sight of Newbie
Mountain. Smoke coiled lazily from the summit, a reminder that this was no
mere tale. The dragon awaited, and Louen felt a mixture of fear and
exhilaration?and a lingering, nagging awareness of his own out-of-shape lungs.
He set his lute carefully on a flat stone, muttered a short prayer to Amarth
for courage (and maybe a few extra breaths), and began the final ascent. As he
rounded a bend, heart hammering like war drums and his chest heaving, he
froze. Before him stretched not a colossal dragon, scales glinting like molten
rubies, but a creature far smaller, with mottled green skin and bright,
curious eyes. Its tongue flicked out, tasting the crisp mountain air.  Louen
blinked, his shoulders slumping in both relief and mild disappointment. ?A
lizard?? he whispered, incredulous.

The creature tilted its head as if to answer. It was hardly threatening,
though its claws scraped lightly against the rock. Louen slowly knelt,
strumming a cautious note on his lute, taking care not to drop it as he caught
his breath. Then, gesturing dramatically toward the sky, he muttered, ?Forgive
me, Amarth! I was promised a dragon, not a dancing lizard!? To his
astonishment, the lizard responded?its tail swishing in time with the rhythm,
and a soft chittering sound escaping its tiny throat. Louen laughed softly, a
sound that echoed across the mountain. ?Well, I suppose a ballad about bravery
must sometimes be? flexible,? he said. Carefully, he picked up his lute and
began to play. The tune was bold and stirring, a heroic march meant for
dragons. Yet, the lizard danced along the rocks, hopping in time to the
melody, its scales glinting in the sunlight.

Hours passed, though time seemed to bend in that strange, quiet place. Louen
sang and plucked, invoking Amarth in exaggerated flourishes??For you, O
greatest of dwarven bards, let my strings ring true!??while the little
lizard?who he soon named Slink?listened with rapt attention. By the time the
sun began to dip behind Newbie Mountain, Louen realized he had composed a
ballad unlike any other: a tale of courage, not measured by the size of the
foe, but by the willingness to face the unknown. As dusk fell, Louen packed
his lute and turned toward the path back to the dwarven halls, still puffing a
bit from the climb. Slink scurried ahead, leading him gently down the
mountainside as if escorting a hero home. Louen laughed again, the sound
mingling with the mountain winds. ?Perhaps the world does not always give us
the dragons we expect,? he mused, ?but it gives us companions, and that is
worth a song of its own.?

By the time he returned to his kin in the City of Mountain Dwarfs, the tale of
his adventure had already begun to grow in the telling?only, instead of a
fearsome dragon, the story spoke of a brave dwarf bard and his peculiar lizard
friend, who had danced through the mountains to the tune of a hero?s heart.
And though the ballad would never mention fire or treasure, it carried a
warmth far greater: the warmth of courage, joy, and the magic of the
unexpected.


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