Alaric set his tankard upon the old, wooden table. Ale ran down his tangled beard, wetting his chin. He belched loudly but it was drowned out by the ruckus in the surrounding room. All about people were drowning themselves in ale (having already had more than their fair share), and men were laughing at crude jokes and, unable to control themselves, were spilling drinks all down their fronts. 2
Men and women were fornicating all about the darkly lit room and several patrons were dancing drunkenly upon the tables, displaying no sign of shame as they hopped and skipped to the tune sung by merry onlookers who were no less drunk. Serving girls navigated their way between tables, carrying platters of food and drink, all the while avoiding those who sought to grope them. The Innkeeper bustled about busily, taking orders and listening to the complaints of his customers.3
Alaric ran his hand through his wet beard and then holding his hand in front of his face, palm inward, flipped his wrist back in a quick motion, sending a wet spray across the table. Luckily there was no one sitting opposite him to take offence. 4
He was actually quite a handsome man, or would be if he was better groomed. He had long, black hair that hung about his shoulders in greasy locks and a thick beard that, at the moment, was dripping wet. He was neither a small man, nor a very large man, but he was heavily muscled and could no doubt hold his own in a fight; indeed, he is the kind of fellow who you might spot in a boxing ring now-days, taking and recieving punches in equal measure; a sturdy man, you might say. However, Alaric’s most noticeable feature was his eyes. They were a deep green; so deep, that anyone who looked into them couldn’t help but be mesmerized; for they held an immesurable vastness that seemed to spite his rogue-like features. Though he might appear to be a dirty rascal at first sight, his eyes betrayed the depth of his character. 5
He surveyed the room with those keen eyes, taking in everything, though not as clearly as he might. It was large, though not as large as many an inn Alaric had visited. There was no decoration; jut plain wooden tables, chairs, and a fire burning in the hearth next to where he sat. The patrons were nearly all men local to the area; farmers, whose lands lay without the town, and there were also the towns people. Those were the liveliest of all, gathered at the only place in the valley in which they could whore and drink themselves into oblivion. And there were also merchants, visiting from distant places, traveling through to larger cities to the east, but they kept mostly to themselves. Finally, he spied what he was looking for: “innkeeper,” he yelled gruffly, “more ale!” 6
He wiped his wet hands on his green, dirt-stained tunic and then reached out to receive his third tankard of ale. Grasping the handle, Alric nodded at the innkeeper, but the man had already turned his back to him and had proceeded to distribute the contents of his tray until it was bare, and then scuttled off to replenish his supply. 7
Alaric tilted his head back and drank deeply from the large, wooden cup, the contents of which spilled down his chin as he did so. Setting it down next to his empty plate, the weary man let out a groan of pleasure.8
He had been traveling for a long while and was glad to finally be in the warmth of a large fire-which was beginning to burn low- and to be able to eat and drink to his heart’s content. Leaning back in his chair, Alaric closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. He stayed like this for a long while, thinking of his long and arduous journey. He had faced many trials and tribulations to get here and he was content as he had not been for a long while. Upon opening his eyes once more he found he was no longer alone; for three drunken peasants had seated themselves across from him and were laughing jovially and elbowing each other in the ribs. 9
These men were not the sophisticated sort as you might say. These were the kind of men you might spot at a NASCAR track spitting tobacco, smoking cigarettes, and bragging about the towing capacity of their trucks. But those are modern things so, of course, that type of conversation didn't come up in their day to day lives 10
The man to the right, whose name was Badin, looked up and said to Alaric, “Havn't seen ya ‘round here before.” He let out a loud belch before continuing, “Where ya from?” 11
“I’m not really from anywhere in particular,” replied Alaric in his gruff voice, “I travel from one place to another; wherever my line of work takes me.”12
The man to the left, whose name was Fallows, said, “By the looks of ya, ya've been traveling a good long time; several months if I’m not mistaken. But then," the man said, speaking raising his voice even louder, "I’ve had so much ale, that if I have any more, I might just have to take ya to bed with me, so I can’t really tell ya what ya look like, now can I?”13
Unable to contain their mirth, the four men roared with laughter. They continued on laughing for a good long while, and when they finally had control of themselves (or as much control a man in their state could have anyway) Badin spoke once more, “What exactly is it that ya do that keeps ya travlin' so much?”14
Alaric, having just taken another draught of ale, set his tankard down and replied, “Oh you know, a little of this, a little of that.”15
“Well, that’s no kinda' answer!” exclaimed Badin, “Be a bit clearer about it why don’t ya? Cuz one thing’s for sure not getting any clearer and that’s my vision!”16
There was more laughter and more drinking of ale and then Alaric said matter-of-factly, “I simply go where people’s purses are fattest and I relieve them of their coin by way of my quick thinking and likeable personality.”17
“Aha,” cried Fallows, “an opportunist.”18
“Nah,” spoke Osric, the man in the middle and easily the most drunken of the group. “He’s a trader, he is.” 19
“A trader?” laughed his companions. “The man himself wouldn’t go for more than two copper pennies!”20
That remark was followed by another outburst of laughter far exceeding the first and it was a long while before anyone could speak.21
Finally, with tears in his eyes, Osric yelled, “Aye, John,” (meaning the Innkeeper) “More ale!" 22
"Ale! Ale! Ale,” the men chanted. And, draining the remnants of his tankard, Alaric added to the yells of his companions.23
They yelled until a plump women (who was the Innkeeper's wife) carried a tray toward the table laden with more wooden cups, each twice the size of the ones from which the men had previously been drinking, distributed them among the group and then scurried off as more calls for ale rang out.24
The four men drank deeply for several moments until at last Fallows spoke, “Ya aint bein' too clear about what exactly is it that ya do- on what it is that ya do, he finished, correcting himself” 25
“My job’s the sort you don’t want to go about advertising for.”26
“C’mon!” they urged, “tell us!” 27
“Okay,” Alaric said, with a grin and a shrug, wits addled and tongue loosed by the many drinks he had consumed over the night, “I’m a thief!”28
Now, I can already tell what you are thinking. How can I glorify the quest of such a man; a thief, a drunkard, a braggart? You are probably sitting in your chair next to the fire, thinking that you musn't carry on as to avoid hearing tales of horrid, terrible things of the most unpleasant sort. But that would be very squeamish of you; indeed, this is not the man you have already taken him for but to find out the true nature of this man, you must delve much deeper into this story.
“A thief,” the three peasants said together and exchanged excited glances.29
“Yeah, it’s a great thing to be; all you really do is take the profits of others-the rich mind you- and make ‘em your own. You see,” he said, shifting in his chair, “I think that whatever god there may be made two kinds of people: those who make-" he paused form emphasis- "and those who take. I’m a taker.”30
“Sounds like a great thing ta be,” said Osric, swaying dangerously in his chair, “I oughta look in ta bein' one of those.” 31
“A thief,” said Fallows, “I never would have thought. Ya don’t look it, but I'd wager that thievery must make a darn good livin'.”32
“The best,” replied Alaric. “Why one time I made over a five-hundred gold coins in a single escapade.”33
“Five-hundred!" exclaimed Fallows, awestruck “I have a hard time believing that." Though he did not know the meaning of the word escapade he got the general idea.
“Oh, but it’s true,” assured the thief. “How about I tell you the story and you decide for yourselves.”34
The men leaned closer and taking that as an invitation Alaric started to tell the story. It started off fairly believable but as he went on telling it, the tale grew more and more ridiculous. The three drunken peasants were a good audience: they laughed at every joke and gasped at every close call, and because of the success with his audience, the story seemed to grow even wilder as he continued.
Alaric told of over-exaggerated close encounters and of romances with noble women that were ridiculous to even think of. Any sober listeners would have immediatly dismissed the tale for the folly that it was but the three men across from him lapped it up like a thirsty dog. The only one who wasn’t convinced was Badin, who was a little less drunk than the others, and a little smarter.35
"I have a hard time believin' this story of yars. In fact,” he said, eyes narrowing, “I think ya made this all up. There’s no way ya woulda' gotten away from all those men in the sewers and what kinda noble women would want to bed with ya?" He looked the thief up and down, surveying his filth, though he himself was not a lot cleaner. "Ya know what I think?” he said, “I think that ya’re a lying scumbag, that’s what I think.”36
“I speak the truth,” Alaric said indignantly, “I am the best thief in all the land. I could steal the crown right off the king's head. Why, I could even steal an egg from an angry mother dragon.”37
“Steal the king’s crown. Hah!" spat the man derisively, "I’d like to see that; Ya couldn't get that close thief or no thief. Ya could steal the egg from a dragon, eh? I'd be willing to bet a pretty penny on that."
“I would as well, “said the thief. “Point me in the direction of the nearest dragon and I'll be on my way, but I know of no dragon to be found in this part of the world.”38
“O' course there’s a dragon,” spoke Fallows, “Ya know, up on Kristol Kurn.”39
“Kristol Kurn?”40
“That big mountain off to the east, don’t ya know? Ya can see it from here, but it's quite large and much farther away than ya might imagine ta look at it. A vicious, fire breathing dragon lives there: Pravus. A wicked, greedy wyrm he is. Killed many folk who lived near the base of the mountain when he came many years ago; back when my father' father still tilled these fields.”41
Badin leaned forward, “If ya’re the best thief there is then why not put a wager on it? Ya go up there n’ steal something of value from Pravus and bring it back here n' we'll give ya yur money. Ya die then-" he paused ominously before continuing to say, "then ya had better hand over ya're wager so it’s in safe hands.”42
Now, there are many theories on the reasons for what happened next: Maybe he let his pride and arrogance get in the way; maybe he was to drunk to even think clearly; maybe he was looking for a challenge the likes of which he had never before faced. But, for whatever reason, Alaric then reached into his cloak and pulled out a bag of coins; “This should cover it,” he said, sliding it across the table. The peasant picked up the bag, untied the string and peered at the contents. 43
44
“Deal,” he said and shook the thief's hand.45
And so begins the quest of Alaric.
Bronze trophy winner
Adding your comment:
I always like to help people improve their writing, though. *cracks knuckles*
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I loved all of the details you included in this - made it feel real. 
and it is getting better and better 
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that always seem to crop up no matter how much we edit.
Well, I hope these suggestions might help to tighten your text up a bit ~ in the beginning, at least. The actual concept is great! It has all the atmosphere of a Lord of the Rings-style tale, and for a person of your young years, you have done a fabulous job. Well done indeed! You can't beat a great imagination as the basis for great writing.
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