The Sign of the Prancing Pony by Uvatha the Horseman

Making a New Sign

The aroma of new hay filled the stables. In the stalls nearby, the customers’ horses snorted and stomped.

Nob gone to the mayor about the wolf print, but he hadn’t taken it seriously. It left him feeling frustrated, and surrounded by unseen dangers.

He watched Bob piece several narrow planks together into a single large slab, the same size as the Prancing Pony sign.

“It’s almost done. How do you want me to paint it?” asked Bob.

“It should look exactly like the original, dark green with a white horse,” said Nob.

“Couldn’t we do something more attention-getting? Maybe do the background in red?” asked Bob.

“The prank must be subtle. We’re only going to change the name of the Inn.”

#

When they met later in the day, the weather was still fair, but towering clouds moving in the west held the threat of evening storms.

Bob showed off his work. He’d painted the bare wood a dark green, and added a white horse exactly like the original. Then he’d installed the staples for hanging the sign. He’d left a portion of the green background empty. That’s where the new tavern name would go.

“All we have to do is letter in the name.” Bob picked up a brush. “What did you say the new name going to be?”

Nob looked away. “I have no idea.”

They were running out of time. Bob chewed the end of the brush.

“How about The Lightened Purse? The Lumpy Mattress? Bedbugs R Us?”

Nob shook his head. “It should have something to do with Inns. Come On Inn? Inn The Middle? Inn A World Of Trouble?”

Two figures filled the doorway, blocking the light. They wore dark clothing and their hoods obscured their faces. One of them offered a coin in a gloved hand.

“Do you know of anyone who’s suddenly attained great power? Developed the ability to become invisible? Attracted an army of minions?”

“Not that I’ve noticed. Can you think of a good name for a tavern?”

“Don’t Go Inn?” the faceless figure suggested.

“Oh, that’s good! Bob, start lettering it in.”

Bob sat back on his heels. “No, I really think it should have something to do with horses. The Swaybacked Nag, or The Lame-Gaited Palfrey.” He tossed out a few more suggestions.

“Bob, you’re brilliant! That’s going to be our tavern name. And do you have enough white paint to do a second horse?”

Soon, Bob would have to start on evening stables, and Nob would be needed to wait tables in the common room. In the few minutes they had left, Nob reviewed the plan. Bob would climb the ladder with the sign and hang it on the bracket, while Nob would stay on the ground to hold the ladder.

“We’ll meet under the sign just after midnight, when everyone’s in bed. It’s important that we do this without being seen.”

Bob looked alarmed. “My folks would never let me stay out that late.”

“Can’t you put a bolster under the bedclothes and sneak out the window?”

“My Da would kill me. Then he’d resurrect me and kill me again. Do you think you could manage alone?” asked Bob.

“Bob, you’re the one who’s done it before. You hung it last year when they touched up the paint.” And Nob wasn’t good with heights.

“Sorry, but I really can’t be out past midnight. If you want my help, we’d have to do it right after it got dark.”

Nob didn’t like it. There’d still be a few people on the street, and he’d be still be working, carrying trays and filling tankards. But he couldn’t hang the sign by himself.

Reluctantly, he agreed they’d hang the sign not long after dark.