Jetin the bard stood fingering his mandolin as he listened to Sir Wathingham drone on about his latest adventure. He knew he would be expected to recite every one of Sir Wathingham’s deeds to townsfolk far and wide, yet he could not force himself to pay attention.

“And then I swung my greatsword, thus, and smote the dragon’s ear,” Sir Wathingham said, demonstrating so that Jetin was forced to jump out of the way.

Jetin nodded, and began to strum unconsciously. As he did, Sir Wathingham’s storytelling changed every so slightly; it began to fit itself to the tune Jetin played.

“And then I swung the blaggard through,/ And so he lost his head,” Sir Wathingham chanted.

“It rolled, and rolled, and rolled, and rolled;/ he was dead, dead, dead!” Jetin sang in response.

Sir Wathingham let out a great guffaw, slapping Jetin so hard on the shoulder that he stumbled forward. “That’s the stuff, lad! They’ll never forget the Ballad of Sir Wathingham if you tell it like that!” Sir Wathingham grinned.