The White Horse Inn, Act III

[littlemanpoet]

"When I was a lad I dreamed of being a great warrior, a captain in the army of Prince Theodred." He shook his head. "I did not make captain, for which I am forever grateful to the rulers of fate, for then I would have been killed along with him early in the War." He shrugged and shook his head. "But enough somber talk! Do you like music? Or do you sing?"

"I would not boast of it, but I know a few tunes. Why? Do you play?"

"A harp! Which I handle almost as well as my ale!" Eodwine grinned and took a draught, half of which he spilled down his chin and neck, staining his shirt.

"Better, I hope!"

Eodwine wiped his mouth and chin on his sleeve, suddenly serious. "Forgive me, my head is addled. I am not given to such slovenliness. Would you hear my harp?"