Touk, Fémir, and Dumir were, as always, on the road, searching for the perfect opportunity to finally complete the famous quest entrusted to them by Luther. They had been wandering for weeks, their feet weary and their coin purses nearly empty. But they remained hopeful… well, mostly Dumir, who was as naïve as ever.
At the head of the group, the dwarf Dumir marched with a heavy step, his face serious, his faithful Remington perched on his head. Behind him, Touk, the Vykore warrior, kept a sharp watch, her eternally suspicious demeanor making her even less sociable than usual. She was armed to the teeth, ready to slice the first reckless bandit in two. Fémir, meanwhile, brought up the rear, casual and carefree, strumming a few chords on his lute and humming a melody that seemed oddly familiar.
Suddenly, Dumir furrowed his brow and turned to Fémir "This song… It sounds familiar!" The bard smiled faintly but didn’t reply. He enjoyed leaving things mysterious, as always.
Dumir scratched his beard, deep in thought, then suddenly exclaimed "By the beard of Gundir the Brilliant! This is a dwarf song! How do you know such beautiful poetry?"
Touk rolled her eyes and muttered, barely audible, "Ah, that’s why it’s annoying me even more than usual..."
Fémir answered simply, "Because my father composed it!"
Dumir stopped dead in his tracks, mouth agape. "Your father?! But... wait... you mean... Burmir the Bard? The legendary Burmir?!"
Touk also froze, looking perplexed. She squinted, sizing up Fémir from head to toe, "Wait a minute… That means you’re… a dwarf?! But…" She turned to Dumir, visibly confused, then looked down at him, who barely topped her by three apples. The dwarf, all smiles, eagerly awaited the next part, while Fémir seemed way too tall and... too human to be a dwarf.
Fémir sighed and took a deep breath, "My father was half dwarf, my mother half elf. But I took the human side from both."
Touk grimaced in confusion: "Uh, I’m lost here... Can you explain?"
Fémir sighed again and began, "Once upon a time..."
Touk, sensing a long tale ahead "Oh no, I should’ve kept quiet..."
But Fémir continued, undeterred:
Once upon a time, in a distant kingdom, there was an elven king named Vildrael. This king, my friends, was married to the most beautiful woman in all of Chibu, Marielle. They loved each other deeply, like in the stories. From this love, a daughter was born, Féyael, a half-elf with golden hair, as beautiful as the sun. But one day, Marielle’s humanity caught up with her, for while Vildrael and Féyael were blessed with eternal life, Marielle was not. She eventually died of old age… The king, devastated by this loss, made a vow that no one could marry his daughter without proving a love as strong as his for Marielle.
Féyael, as beautiful as her mother, attracted many suitors: rich, valiant, strong… But none could convince the king. Until one day, a half-dwarf, half-human named Burmir came to the court. The king received him with a cold look. How could such an unattractive creature as a dwarf hope to unite with something as graceful as an elf? His daughter, however, remained indifferent but intrigued by the audacity of this strange character.
Burmir stepped forward, his heart pounding, facing a crowd that was eagerly awaiting his failure. All those eyes fixed on him... He suddenly felt very small, and it wasn’t just because of his stature. Nevertheless, he managed to string a few words together, his voice trembling but sincere.
"I have heard of your beauty, Princess. And I must say... those were understatements. But deep within you, I sense a sadness. Perhaps... I could play a song for you, to soothe that sorrow?"
Stifled laughter rippled through the hall, with some openly mocking the dwarf’s audacity. The atmosphere grew heavier, and poor Burmir began to regret his words. However, the king, with a strange gleam in his eye, turned to his daughter. Unlike the crowd, Féyael didn’t seem amused but rather curious. The king frowned, then, in a deep voice, he spoke:
"Your request is quite strange, bard... Guard! Bring his instrument."
Burmir, his hands trembling slightly, explained, "I crafted it in honor of our kingdoms, combining an elven bow with golden threads from the dwarven mines."
The instrument presented was unlike anything seen before. It resembled a short bow, but with several fine strings, like a miniature harp. The hall froze in curiosity. But as one of the guards brought the instrument to Burmir, he "accidentally" broke several of the delicate strings, a sneer on his lips. A wave of mocking laughter once again swept through the crowd.
Burmir, desperate, exclaimed, "Oh no...!"
The guard, feigning contrition, bowed slightly:
"My apologies, master bard... a bit too rough of a gesture."
The king, impassive, leaned slightly towards Burmir:
"Bard, can you still play your instrument, broken as it is?"
The dwarf lowered his eyes, defeated.
"No, alas, Sire..." he murmured sadly. He was about to leave the hall, heart heavy and pride crushed, when suddenly, a soft voice rang out, "Wait!"
All eyes turned to Princess Féyael, who gracefully approached Burmir. She detached five of her golden hairs and handed them to the dwarf, a mysterious smile on her lips.
"Take these, master bard. I would like to hear your melody."
A murmur of astonishment swept through the hall. Even the king seemed perplexed. Burmir, regaining hope, took the hairs delicately and strung them onto his instrument, replacing the broken threads. He took a deep breath and began to play.
The melody that flowed from the instrument was breathtakingly beautiful. The notes floated through the air, enveloping everyone present in a soft melancholy. It was like a breeze gently stirring the memories of a happy past. Even the most cynical members of the court fell silent, their hearts touched by this music that no one had ever heard before. The king and princess, for their part, seemed lost in a dream, transported to forgotten childhood memories.
When the last note faded, a profound silence settled over the hall. Everyone was in awe of the beauty they had just witnessed. The king, visibly moved, broke the silence, "What is this instrument called?"
Burmir, still breathless from the emotion coursing through him, replied:
"I intended to call it Fémir, which in our language means 'Caress of an old memory'. But after meeting your majesty and the princess, I thought perhaps... with your blessing, I could call it 'Marielle', in honor of your late queen."
A murmur of admiration rippled through the hall. Princess Féyael, deeply touched, looked at the dwarf with bright eyes. The king nodded, moved.
"I give you my blessing, master bard. And... my daughter."
The court erupted in shock. Féyael, far from offended, smiled softly at Burmir. And so, as in a fairy tale (or at least, that's how Fémir liked to tell it), they married, had a son, and lived happily ever after.
"THE END!" Fémir concluded with a dramatic bow.
Remington and Dumir, their eyes red from emotion, discreetly wiped away their tears.
"That was too beautiful..." sobbed Dumir. "Real dwarven poetry."
Touk, more pragmatic, rolled his eyes.
"Wait a minute... So, you’re a quarter-elf, quarter-dwarf, half-human, heir to an elven crown, son of a famous dwarven bard who was the inventor of the Marielle?! You’ve got to admit, that’s a bit... far-fetched."
Fémir burst into laughter.
"Oh, Touk, you’ll never change! A bit of jealousy, perhaps?"
Touk shrugged, a smirk on her face. "Pffff..."
Dumir, still emotional, raised his hand. "I choose to believe it’s true!"
Fémir, feigning modesty, pretended to ponder. "Well, let’s say I may have... embellished a few details to make it more coherent."
Touk chuckled. "Coherent, right. Sure."
And so, our heroes resumed their journey, the metallic sound of a small object tapping against Fémir’s back. A small bow engraved with two letters: F and B.
❦
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