Samuel the Idler




They called Samuel an idler. He just seemed to drift around, leaving town for a week or a month, then coming back. He sometimes came back dirty and ragged, thin as a shadow. Once he came back with a cut face and a skin disease that looked like he had been burned by a dragon or a druid's curse.

"Stay away from him," upstanding mothers told their children, clucking in righteous judgement. "You don't want to be like him."

The barkeeps knew better. Each time he came back to town, he had a purse full of dwarven gold.

Yes, he thought to himself, his mind alive with memories and schemes, let the small people have their petty opinions. He swirled the ale in his tankard and looked idle indeed.




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