[Hood and Hy-Jinx sitting in high back chairs, their feet bare, drinking soup]

  Hood sits with his bare feet to the fire, his socks and boots slowly steaming on the hearth. Hi-jinx likewise positioned, a bowl of soup, rich and warm balanced on her lap, the soft tinkling of her bells gently sound out again as she dips her head to her spoon. Hood is feeling relaxed, his gaze lost amidst the large chunks of vegetables and meat that float in a thick nourishing gloop before him. The fire dries half of them and they swap seats to dry the other half, silently examining the room and its occupants. A slightly drunken farmer catches Hy-Jinx’s eye, staring at her until he works up enough courage to shout:

  “Here Jester! Now that you’ve ‘ad a chance to dry out, how ‘bout a song?”

  “Aye!”

  “Aye a song!”

  Others take up the call.

  Hi-Jinx considers carefully the crowd before setting down her bowl and taking up her mandolin. She tunes it slowly, carefully, gently, the atmosphere responding accordingly until silence, except for the pop and squeak of the fire and the faint clatter of dishes from the back kitchen. With a confident and relaxed movement of the hand, Hy-Jinx plays a chord and begins to sing, her voice gathering up and capturing the attention of every soul present…

  [Hy-Jinx standing in front of the fire, mandolin in hand, singing]

  Two sides there were and none could tell

  That each to the other would bring them hell

  Two sides there were and none could know

  The misery and the woe

  The misery and the woe.

  Some of the old timers nod their heads, aware of the ballad - The Battle of Burydead

  Now each they had a grist to bear

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  And each would curse and each would swear

  Their cause was right, their cause was true

  Ah the misery and the woe.

  At dawn just as the sun did rise

  And flamed across the fields

  The armies of both sides let cry

  And drew their swords and raised their shields

  And thus the rival factions met

  Ten thousand strong in each

  And hacked and chopped and swore and cursed

  And bled and died and fed the earth.

  But neither could the either breach.

  Ah the misery and the woe

  The misery and the woe.

  All day they fought until at last

  the final few remained

  The evening fields now drenched in red

  With blood and bones of all the dead

  But even now, with heaving breaths,

  Of hate they were not drained.

  Of hate they were not drained.

  They called the gods, they cursed their foes

  They spat upon their hands

  They clenched their fists and made to wish:

  Their enemies from their lands

  They went again to hack and slice

  To meet their fate and roll the dice

  They clashed again and three times thrice

  Ah the misery and the woe

  The misery and the woe.

  The clouds they burst

  The rain it fell to cause the butchered dead to swell

  An awful sight, an awful smell

  With not a soul alive to tell

  Of the misery and the woe.

  The misery and the woe.

  A hundred years have passed since then and now a hundred more

  The world has turned but we’ve not learnt the pointlessness of war

  The dead beneath the fields still lie their fingers claw the soil

  Their mouths agape as if to cry..

  ‘Oi! Love! Ain’t you not got something more cheery?”