15 Music Reflects Who We Are

Jacob snuck into the inn, the backdoor's creak thankfully muffled by the lute. The common room was empty when Jacob scanned it, meaning that Rod wasn't playing down here. He was either in his room or in the washroom, but something told him that having a moist environment around a wooden instrument was not the soundest of ideas. That left the innkeeper's room.

His was the only bedroom on the first floor. The guests, Jacob, and up until recently, Angelica slept upstairs. Jacob snuck with the most stealth he could muster, testing each floorboard meticulously in case they let out an alarm.

The lute's song grew louder as he approached. It was the same song he had heard a couple of months ago. It was a happy song, but remembering Rod's tragedy, it wasn't all that cheerful anymore. The notes trembled, either by design or instinct. Every leaping melody was brought back down as if it were smitten.

Jacob pressed his ear to the door, arriving at his destination. He stood there for as long as the song lasted, which simultaneously felt like an hour and a minute. Then, the music stopped. Jacob's heart fluttered. He couldn't move, lest Rod hear the noise. But if Rod opened the door, Jacob would be discovered regardless. Frozen with indecision, Jacob could only watch as the door to the innkeeper's room swung open.

Rod was clearly surprised by his cook's presence. The surprise turned to anger. With as much anger as could be conveyed in hushed tones, Rod whispered "What in the name of the Gods are you doing here? Can't a man have a moment of peace in his own inn?"

"It's a little late to be subtle, Rod. I heard your lute from across the building," Jacob said, not really caring if the guests woke to his voice. If they hadn't woken to the music, they certainly weren't going to get up because of him.

"Was I that loud?" Rod's anger flickered to worry before settling back on anger. "That's beside the point. This is my room. I don't appreciate people eavesdropping on me. If I ever catch you doing anything like this again, you're out of a job."

"Please, Rod. I just wanted to listen. You play beautifully, better than anyone I've ever heard."

"Then you haven't heard all that many people."

"Trust me, I have." That was true, at least in part. Though Jacob hadn't heard many people play an instrument in this world, his impressive music library at home almost qualified him to be a connoisseur of the subject. Jacob glanced past the innkeeper and into the room. The lute sat on the man's bed, not having been packed away yet. "I need you to teach me."

The words were as much a surprise to Rod as they were to Jacob. What in the world was he thinking? If the innkeeper felt as if he had crossed the line, he could be out of a job come next morning. And then what would he do?

"That I cannot do," Rod said, sorrow overcoming rage for the first time in the conversation.

"Please. I couldn't follow Angelica to Steelshade to train as a mage. I can't and won't follow Will to fight the bandits. I've got nothing except my questionable cooking. I want to learn to do something amazing, like your music," the words wouldn't stop tumbling. With each syllable, Jacob felt the need to repress the urge to facepalm. To his surprise, however, the words made Rod pause.

"I can understand feeling left out. I really do," he stopped. Rod ran his fingers through his considerable beard, his other hand busy massaging his forehead. "Fine. I'll teach you. But if you break this lute, I'll break you."

The words were not a threat, but a promise.

"I won't disappoint, Rod! Thank you!"

Jacob went to sleep that night no longer so envious of Angelica. Though magic was cool, he would get to learn how to play the lute. Once he had that skill, he could travel through the world and play in taverns. Maybe he'd learn how to get back home. If not, he could figure it out while on the road. He'd be a bard.

When the moon next rose, Jacob was eager to begin his lessons. He shadowed Rod as if the older man were going to vanish at any second. It had begun to grate at the innkeeper's nerves, eventually forcing him to fold to Jacob's impatience.

The first few hours of the night were spent in study of the location of different notes on the lute. It was boring, but Jacob's effort was redeemed when he first plucked the note Rod had taught him. Much like his cooking, it was merely novice compared to Rod, but it was progress. It was similar enough to the guitar he had once played to make rapid progress, at least in these early stages.

Every night for the next two weeks would be a repeat of this, with Rod gradually giving Jacob more and more time with the lute. Clearly, the instrument held meaning to him. Whether it was given to him by his wife, or if it was the lute he had played while she died, it was an object of great sentimental value. Jacob did his utmost not to damage the instrument, which was at odds with Jacob's near-magical ability to spontaneously destroy things. Many good phones had met their ends too soon.

The lessons would always end the same way. Rod would slide the lute's case underneath some floorboards before staring Jacob dead in the eyes.

"Music reflects who we are. That's what my wife used to say. And I'll tell you the same. If you're sad, even the happiest of songs will seem somber. If you want to be a musician, you must learn to overcome that."

The lesson made sense, in a weird sort of way. Jacob supposed it wouldn't do for a bard to play a raunchy song only for it to sound like a soundtrack from one of his mom's soap operas. He quickly slinked off to bed because his days were always busy. He cooked the breakfast and lunch meals, assuming Rod hadn't taken over one of the times, and he sparred with Will whenever he found the opportunity.

Unfortunately, as Jacob found out the next day, the sparring had come to an end.