Ode to the Comedy of King’s Crossing

Alderin took a deep swig of his mead, mustering up his courage. He was accustomed to facing giants, demons, undead, and the like. In fact, after being bitten in half by a dragon, most combat seemed reasonably sedate to him. No, he was about to do something that made him more fearful than any monster ever could. He was about to sing.

Rising from his seat, Alderin turned to Lord Brevin and King McGrioghair, who both sat at the head of the feast. “I apologize in advance,” he began, drawing their attention to him, “that I’m not much of a singer, so I hope you’ll bear with me. But I think I might have a song that you’d enjoy. It works a bit better if you clap.”

With that, Alderin started a rhythmatic clap that everyone immediately picked up on. And, taking a deep breath, he began to sing.

“Oh, there once was a man from King’s Crossing,
who thought himself stalwart and brave.
And oft did he spend his time dreaming
of all the fair maidens he’d save.

So he strapped on a sword and a shield,
walked under the light o’ the moon,
strode into the dark with a smile on his face
and said, ‘Glory and pride will come soon.’

On the road, he met with a mage,
who, seeing the man, shook his head.
Said the mage, ‘Your arms won’t protect you from harm.
Learn some spells or you’ll find yourself dead.’

Later on, he met with a warrior,
who regarded the man with a frown.
‘You’ll likely be killed if you don’t get some skill.
And besides, your shield’s on upside down.’

Further out, he met with a cleric,
whose pity was plain in his tone.
‘You’re only one man in a dangerous land.
Walk with friends or you’ll soon die alone.’

In the darkness, he met with a rogue,
who smiled and snickered with glee.
‘I could hear you, I’d say, from a mile away.
Walk with stealth or your death’s guarunteed.’

I’ll tell ye not what happened,
but mind that the lesson is learned.
For suffice it to say that unto this fair day
the young champion has never returned.

They found his shield torn to pieces,
his footsteps in grim disarray.
His trousers they found in a pool on the ground.
What it was is not proper to say.

So mind the words of your betters.
On the full moon you ought not to roam.
And unless your head is as full as your heart,
you’re better of staying at home.”

Alderin concluded with a dramatic flourish, to the applause of the entire tavern. He was thankful that the dim lighting covered up the embarrassment on his face, because he had quite expertly fumbled many of the verses. However, Lord Brevin and others didn’t seem to mind, laughing approvingly at the jest of his verse. He resumed his seat, feeling the congratulatory pats on his back from friends, and thought, “At least I won’t have to do that again until the feast next year.”