Fiction|Fantasy|Writing Challenge

Faigol Strikes Again

83 of 💯 —All for the love of mead.

Don’t know Faigol’s previous antics? Check them out here!

“Diela!” Buuurrrp. “Another mead!” Faigol leaned heavily on the centuries-old bar. With heavy lids, he watched the blurred, slightly plump barmaid through his waning vision. His scraggly beard pushed the spilled liquor around on the scarred wood like a dirty mop.

The patrons nursing their own tankards on either side of him relocated — as one — when the toxic burp burned their nostrils.

“Faigol, you’re drunk — like always. Go home and sleep it off.” Deila, not wanting to lose her supper over the stench, grabbed a rag and hurried off to clean tables.

Faigol, not easily put off tonight, wiped his slack mouth on the back of his dirty sleeve and moved a couple of stools down the bar. “I knows what ta do,” he mumbled loudly. “I’ll change seats and they’ll thhhink I’m someone elsh!” He sat heavily, gripping the bar to steady himself. Puffed up with pride at his cleverness, he sat up as straight as possible — wobbling slightly, and stuck his chest out. His attempt to smile would scare off anyone that wasn’t drunker than him — more like a gnarled sneer. Several missing teeth had been replaced with chunks of wood.

When a form sauntered into his vision behind the bar, Faigol ran a rough hand over his beard before becoming a smooth-talking gigolo. “Diela, my dearth, you look ravithing tonight.” Hick “Be a dearth and fetch me a drink.”

The burly saloon owner stood before Faigol with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed. “Faigol, you drunkard, go home!”

Faigol, taken aback by Diela’s gruff voice, “Can’t you at leasht make me something ta eat? I’m hungry.” The grown man pouted and whined before perking up. “One of those slabs of bread with spiced tomatoes and a shlice of cheese melted on top! Oh, yesh, one of those.” As memory served him the dish, drool ran down the side of his mouth, mingling with the mead in his beard.

The gruff voice again ended any further service. “Go home, Faigol.”

Dejected, Faigol’s previously toothy smile fell as long as his grey beard. He slowly stood and shuffled for the door — holding onto tables, chairs, and angry patrons as he went.

He stumbled down the road towards home — hugging sturdy trees, steadying himself against buildings, and various things within reach — including the back end of an unhappy horse. Each heavy step kicked up dust and pebbles.

Faigol raised weary eyes, trying to gather his wits and get his bearings when he thought he saw some of the bio-luminescent creatures he created — by accident, of course. Forgetting he was on a mission to collapse in his bed, he veered off toward the brilliant bugs.

With the first redirected step, his own feet twisted around each other, bringing him to the ground. He landed with a loud thud as dust exploded around him.

Coughing, he raised his head in the direction of the minuscule flying creatures. He blinked several times to clear his mead-fogged vision. Opening his eyes wide, Faigol saw light illuminating a barrel of mead with streams of amber liquid pouring out in multiple directions like a fountain.

He licked his dust coated lips, suddenly parched. Scrambling to his feet, Faigol stumbled towards his beloved beverage.

He did not take notice when his foot splashed in a puddle at the edge of the road. He began to fall forwards, his foot anchored in the shallow pool of water when the liquid engulfed him.

Faigol blinked in disbelief and confusion as he was positioned mid-fall, encased in a cool cocoon of water. His eyes again found the substance he longed for, shimmering in the distance. He struggled to break free of the watery bonds to no avail.

In moments, tiny fairy warriors hovered before him, stern expressions cast his way. The lead commander flew forward one hand breadth.

Faigol’s eyes squinted and roamed over the fairies, “What sha meaning o’ this? I demand you leth me go!”

The lead commander, ignoring Faigol’s demands, unrolled the parchment and declared, “Faigol, you are being summoned to appear before the Faerie Court of Magic for failure to yield to Faerie property, in addition to wanton destruction of Faerie property, and creation of a new species without a license.”

Faigol’s scowl deepened.

“Since you did not appear at the appointed court, you will appear now to settle the matter.” As the commander rolled the scroll, he added, “I’ve never trusted a drunk wizard and I never will. I can never forgive you for destroying our homes, the rec centerwith foosball, and our bakery! For the love of chocolate — the bakery!”

The gold trim on his white and navy uniform shimmered in the light as he tucked the parchment in his belt. “Faigol, you are a disgrace to the magical kingdom.”

Faigol searched his mead-muddled mind for a retort, “I know you are, but what am I?!”

The commander pinched the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. “Stand for your hearing, wizard!”

The watery cocoon, forced him to stand straight as the Faerie Court came to a distraught Faigol.

Next: Faigol’s Great Escape

Don’t know about Faigol’s Antics? Read the collection below!!

1 pt - Tallie box
2 pts - Ordered pizza without saying "pizza"
5 pts - soliloquy - talking to self at the bar
1 pt - bio-luminescent bugs
1 pt - mirage - mead barrel fountain
1 pt - Faigol is encased in a magic puddle
2 pts - "I've never trusted..."
1 pt - "I know you are but what am I?"

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