The Sign of the Prancing Pony by Uvatha the Horseman

Rangers Leave The Inn

Two men on the far side of the room rose unsteadily to their feet. Both appeared to have gotten an early start on their drinking, and it hadn’t improved their tempers any.

The larger of the two was a lout, well-known to be irrationally jealous. “She’s mine, and if you so much as look at her, I’m going to make you sorry.”

For someone as heavyset as Mr. Barliman, he could move awfully fast. He grabbed the club from under the bar and raced across the room to separate the two men. “I don’t care which of you she likes best. Take it outside.” Mr. Barliman marched them to the door.

Several customers followed them, and a few more after that. It was well known that only vulgar people go outside to watch a brawl, so they spoke in whispers and took small, careful steps, as if moving quietly would made them invisible.

The sound of yelling and cursing in the courtyard escalated to blows being traded among some very angry men.

A chair hit the floor. The Ranger ran for the door with the boy was close behind him. They jostled a table, knocking over the tankards. Yeasty-smelling suds ran across the table top, then spilled over the edge in a cascade of foam. Nob hurried over with a rag to wipe it up.

The Rangers sprinted out the room’s only exit. There was a sound of blows, some whimpering, and then all was quiet. Mr. Barliman watched them go. “So that’s what Rangers do. I always thought of them as outlaws, but maybe it’s in a vigilante sort of way.”

What with so many of the customers in the courtyard watching the fight, the common room was nearly empty. Nob’s duties were suddenly lightened, at least momentarily. This was his chance to hang the sign.

He slipped out with the others. Mr. Barliman wouldn’t scold him much for abandoning his duties for a few minutes to watch the only exciting thing that ever happened around here.

In the middle of the courtyard, the two Rangers, if that’s what they were, faced off against the very drunken louts, one of them larger and stockier than either of the Rangers. The lout was getting the worst of it, yet he never seemed to land a blow. Nob would have loved to stay and watch the melee. But he was here for a reason, and he only had a short time to pull it off.

The front of the Inn wasn’t visible from the courtyard. They could do it without anybody seeing them, if they were quick. Bob was already outside, sheltering under the archway from the misting rain. He saw Nob and gave him a thumbs-up.

Nob drew a deep breath. “Are you ready? Let’s do this.”

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