Eurma

Random bits of a random idea:

I sat in a well-lit tavern on the outskirts of Northridge, nearly broke and trying very hard to mend the broken string of my lute. I had the weakest ale the barkeep would sell sitting next to me, and I was nursing it carefully, a few sips every hour. My clothes probably stank, and I'm not sure I cared much. It had been a bad handful of months, and I was beginning to regret not going into the army when the option had presented itself. Cheelar, hearing my grumbling, glared at me briefly, and resumed cleaning her ears in disdain. We hadn't talked for sometime, and I wasn't going to break that trend first.
The barkeep came and again glared at me, and I smiled, holding up the lute, which I had just barely restrung. It wasn't tuned, and probably sounded terribly, but fortunately I didn't rely on my musical talents to get me through the night. I smiled at Cheelar and walked up onto the raised area which served as the stage. Cheelar relaxed on the table, watching. She didn't speak, but I got the impression she was wishing me well in her silently superior way.
The interesting thing about stages is that getting up on them almost always calls attention to yourself, even if the change in height is a mere hands-breadth. Within moments I had everyone's attention on me, and the mix of people suddenly became and audience, patient and expectant. I smiled and waved.
Rather than speaking, I took the moment to tune my lute. It was something that took very little time, fortunately, and within a few moments I was strumming along towards my first song.

ToBeContinued...
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Did I mention I had a long day and am very tired?
It has been, and I am.