Role

Chapter 2

In the evenings, when he should have been studying, he would either
lose himself in his preferred reading and ignore his class texts, or
work on writing his own simple limericks and poems and ignore the papers
that he should be writing.

Or...he would do his favorite thing of all things --sneak out
and visit the Longbranch Pub to see if any minstrels were passing through.
The one thing that was better to Whildur than reading what he loved was
actually hearing it and seeing it performed. Woefully, Hillcrest was not
on most travelling minstrels' regular circuits, so far out of the way.
It also wasn't very enticing to a performer, as most know gnomes do not
spend their coin freely and very few have anything more than a passing
interest in music.

Most evenings, Whildur only passed the Pub by, disappointed by the lack
of noise and merriment from within. He knew what he would find--tired
gnomes smoking their pipes, discussing either their work in the gardens
or the school or on any number of engineering or magical projects. If
only...but no...he would be foolish to stroll in and hope he could
entertain them with his meager store of tales and rhymes, or poorly
hummed songs...and so the longing for more...to be more...began...and
on these dark nights, as he passed by the towering and locked Hillcrest
gates on his way home, he couldn't help but dream of walking through
them to seek out training in the things that he loved...