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Gilly the Bard was a merry fellow,
His hair was green and his teeth were yellow.
Fiddling fiddlers all day long
Whispering stories of ages far gone
Lost in between reality and song
With all of it, he was done !

"Indeed!" The bard screamed to the old man. "Don't lie, don't say you know it all!"
"Well, well, let us not lose our temper, now." The old man said in a very relaxed manner. He was a Fuzzy Furball and Fuzzy Furballs are always over-excited about the most peculiar things when they are young, and even when they grow old, they still have that foolish over-joy, but they are relaxed... much more relaxed and gentle.
"I'm tired of this! All I've ever done was drink tea and cheap wine, fool around with servant girls in the inns and sing about all sorts of crazilly glorious things to entertain drunkards in taverns. I deserve no glory ! I want to go back to all of that."
"He--he-hehe-he-he! He!" Fuzzy Furballs had a very annoying laugh and not even Gilly, who lived long in their lands, could ever get used to it. "We've all seen you Gilly boy! You killed the Dragon, the big Fiery Beast! He was raining Fires of Heaven on our poor souls and you saved us all! This is a story that will pass through the Ages, like strawberry flavored jelly in pots of silver - ..." and he continued to rant on, in a very Fuzzy way.

They'd even found a Prophecy for him. They said it was a Prophecy of Him. "The Merry Fellow of the Crystal Shard", written in the First Age after the great Furball Utopian Circle of Kollost. "You wouldn't wanna see the initials on that one!" was Gilly's joke, every time the ale got to him a little.

Slaying the Dragon was an accident. How could he have known that the Growling Beast was on that tree, taking a nap, in his Morning Dragon form ? He was simply fooling around with Sweet Lady Cif (a very misterious creature, that one) and as she tickled him intensly, he wanted to impress her with a Warrior's Refusal Stance. He learned that one a while back, and it implied that he thrusts the blade into the air, as if saying that no matter what she'd throw at him, he would never accept her .. hand. All warriors did that just to try to seem uninterested, even though they craved for women like dogs, and Ladies always fell for it, for some bizzare reason, beyond normal creature understanding.

And as he thrust the sword into the air.. well.. it wasn't actually air behind him. It was the green silhouette of the Evil Dragon in his Morning Form (a very small form, used by some Dragons to give them the possibility to take a nap in some tree). Yes, he just fell out of the tree. "Who could predict that?" he told everybody.

That's how he killed the Evil-Growling-Fiery-Beast-Dragon! Thus, the Dragon was dead, Lady Cif was gone and he was no longer a bard... he became a Hero ! And you wouldn't want to hear the Long Title, given to him by the Fuzzy Furballs.

Usually a story ends with the Beast being slain... but it is not our case, nor the case of Gilly, oh, no!
The Story of the Bard who became a Hero... the Greatest Hero of all the Ages... and hated it
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Submitted on
July 8, 2010
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