And, because when I was in college, I was always looking for ways to make the same homework assignment count for two classes, I'll do so again, and challenge myself to make this story also be an entry to this.
https://steemit.com/chibera/@chibera/chibera-tell-us-about-characters-story-usd200-in-rewards
That has a 500 word minimum, so really it'll be a 500 word freewrite, not 5 minutes. But same principle.
I'm so glad to have found this little cottage along the main road to the World Tree. I wonder what happened to its former inhabitants. It can be hard for a little elf like I am to make friends. Everyone expects elves to be elegant, but when I was little, a dark elf broke into our home and smashed my legs. The magic that healed them lets me walk, but it gave me the short, stunted legs of one of the Dwarven people, and no one knows what to think of me. They can't accept me for who I am.
So I'm very glad to have found this abandoned cottage, and to be off the road for a night, not having to share a fire with some mistrustful elves, or, even worse, some humans treating me with pity. I am loathe to open that door this morning and continue my journey toward the World Tree. Everyone seems to think if I can get there, all my problems will be over. That if I can just get close enough, I can wish to be different or something. I don't know if I can, and I don't know if I want to.
I am who I am. I have always been this way, at least as long as I can remember. I don't love how people treat me, but that's their problem, not mine. And you know what? I have a very convenient way of telling if folks are good deep down or not. It's easy to be fooled if you're a rich, beautiful king, because everybody treats you nicely whether they like you or not. They're SUPPOSED to. But no one is SUPPOSED to treat a short elf nicely, so only the nice ones do.
I think I'll just stay here today. I won't open that door. It'll be nice to have a whole day away from people. I'll play my fiddle. I'll eat those pearapples I saw growing in the backyard. Oh, it just feels comforting to rosin the bow. To feel the grain of the fiddle. It reminds me of Pumpkin, the little dwarf girl who made it for herself, but said my fingers fit it better, and she'd make another for herself. She's the only one I wish were here, too. I'd play this tune for her...
Source: a very good friend's music:
A knock? No, I don't want to see anyone. Oh no, they heard me playing. I'm such a dope. Open the door. Oh no. The worst. A tall, handsome knight in literal shining armor. He thinks this is an inn. Oh. He pays. Ok. I guess, sure. I'll take his coins and let him sleep in the bed. And I'll play for him. And, I think I saw a bin of potatoes. Make a pearapple pie with a potato skin crust. That's a dinner.
Oh. More people. There's no more beds. I guess they can sleep on the floor. They want to hear me play.
I guess I'll stay another day tomorrow to have some alone-time. ...I think I've just become an innkeeper. I hope whoever owns this cottage won't be mad when they come back, if they ever do...