Nanowrimo Chibera: (+Moth -5minutefreewrite) Comedy Open Mic 39 (mostly for the bawdy song/poem at the beginning)

Content warning, first it's bawdy and silly, then it's absolutely disgusting. Like, really, you probably don't want to read this chapter.
for https://steemit.com/freewrite/@mariannewest/day-395-5-minute-freewrite-monday-prompt-moth

A moth fluttered by. The sound of a boisterous tavern rose through the night air and landed with the moth on Jani's ear. Even in the depths of despair that she felt inclined to climb down into, there was something in the sounds of the cool evening that kept her head up. Soaked head to toe, still, Jani stood and led her companions artfully back to the streets.

Chanbun didn't know what to make of this change in attitude of Jani, and Swellven didn't know what to make of anything at all. Swellven, though not up-to date with the details of the circumstances, did know what to do when he was in a boisterous tavern. The drunks swayed. The loudest voices bellowed. Someone's misplaced urchin dash between the chairs and back, chasing a cat that had come from somewhere, and didn't seem entirely happy to be in the somewhere it had wound up.

Swellven's lute sang out above the din.

"Oh sycamore and oak and maple and old growth pine
I loved a lady whose lips were might fine!
They twitched, smiled and at last they puckered
If she hadn't been my mother, I would've -"

And he let the lute drown whatever the last words of each stanza were.

"Birch and beech, willow and Joshua Tree
I brushed my hand between and above my lady's knee
It quivered gently beneath my fingers like a grayed dove
If she hadn't been my mother, we would've -"

"Bawdy," muttered Chanbun, but she was smiling, the boisterous mood infectious, and something to distract her from the hard truths she knew they'd need to face sooner than later. But if later could be when sooner came, she was more than willing to let it wait.

"Cherry, spruce, pearapple orchards and Box Elder
It's been too many years since last I held her
I lapped her juice like you drunks lap up the rum
If she hadn't been my mother, she surely would've -"

The entire drunken house, having caught on to the trick of this song shrieked the word they couldn't hear all together. Men and women laughed joyously at the awful end to an awful song. No one cared that bitter mead was a thousand times better than rum they'd never drunk.

Swellven enjoyed the spotlight, even though it didn't quite shine on him so much as it shone because of him. Not one of the drunks in the room could tell in their drunken happiness which corner the music had come from, nor did they much care to. They weren't the kinds of folks who applauded when they were sober; they certainly weren't going to pause their fun to compliment the artist while they were having this much fun.

Jani drank. She didn't have to do much searching to find a mug of bitter mead whose owner didn't know he hadn't drunk it. She found another and another. She found enough to get even an elf with another mind inside it oblivious to right and wrong. Once the part of her that didn't worry about right and wrong turned off, she found herself incredibly proud of the days she'd had. She'd avenged the forest. She'd stood up for herself. Somewhere her father was finally searching for her instead of the other way around. Most importantly of all, there was a lady out there who cared enough about her even though they'd just met that she'd save her life even after watching her drown a man in dirt. What could be better than to sing a bawdy song, dance a wild dance, and chase a cat around the town.

That's where she found herself as the moon rose high in the sky. The half moon was above the horizon, fleeing the sun, and that cat could be anywhere. She was near a well. How old-fashioned, a part of her that knew indoor plumbing thought. The well had old grey stones stacked in mosaic fashion all around its rim. Different shades of grey made a pattern that drew the eye. It didn't mean anything to any part of Jani, but it was pretty regardless. Jani lay in the dirt beside the well. "What a stupid place to fall asleep," Jani said aloud to no one as she fell asleep.

---

Jani awoke very uncomfortably. Not only was her head screaming that she should have drunk the water in the well before sleeping, and her back was screaming that she should have availed herself of Chanbun's rare hospitality, or, er, that Chanbun's hospitality was not rare, but her opportunity to offer it was... her brain bobbled all the words, but her wrists were screaming that she shouldn't have allowed them to be tied so tightly together with twine, and her stomach was complaining about both the knots inside it and the knots around it. Her eyes chose not to open on their own, no matter how much bidding she gave them. Her feet screamed that they wanted to be on something, but that they kept finding nothing.

Something wet and less pleasant than a trough of water struck her straight in the face. She gasped for air and the liquid burned her throat and lungs. The dry, vomit taste deep in her palate was replaced with something much worse.

Some part of her, deep deep down, knew exactly what it was. It knew she had not been struck with animal dung. It knew she had not been struck with watered down human feces. It knew that only a night of drinking could create such a vile substance and that there was only one way it could come out of a human.

She felt grateful for the taste of her own vomit as she retched it out of the orifice some human diarrhea had gone in.

"You deserve worse. A filthy Elf, come in to our town and murder our greatest citizen. You will be hung by the neck at sunset. For now you hang to let your victim's family beat you." The town arbiter spoke with bile in his own throat. Vile piles of bile that Jani could hear as well as smell and feel.

Chanbun and Swellven were not there to watch. They slept drunkenly and soundly in Chanbun's inn, oblivious to the plight of their acquaintance.

Lavender could not avoid learning of Jani's fate, though. She drove her sheep through the square every day. On no other day had a large crowd gathered so early that her sheep's progress was impeded.

She could therefore not go all the way to the fields. She had not had a drunken night. Worse, she had had a sleepless night. Her mind had played over the events again and again. In each memory, she lived again her frozen horror. She tried to change things in each memory. Once she kissed Jani before they went through the gate. Once she confronted the Gem clan father herself. Once she brought Swellven along. Once she told the gate guard what their plan was before they even got past him. Once she screamed. Once she ran and tackled Jani. Once she held the man down herself and pleaded for his life with Jani. But no matter how many times she played it through in her mind, each time her mind forced her to remember it as it had happened. She was helpless to change it. Once a butterfly flapped its wings. It still died of wings tattered in a storm the night before. Hope does not die at once. It dies over a thousand days. Lavender lived a thousand days in one.

And so, on the outskirts of an unexpected crowd, Lavender stood. She saw a figure hung by its middle from a pole haphazardly hoisted beside the well. The figure spun slowly, inexorably around its axis. It was hardly recognizable: piss brown dripped from the tips of its perfectly tipped ears, though, and Lavender knew it was Jani.

She was too far to hear the arbiter's decree, but she would not have been surprised to learn Jani's fate. It was a law that seemed utterly fair, even in light of the present circumstances, and yet Lavender knew she was going to do something to prevent it.

She didn't have much adventuring experience. She wished she had less than she did, for the only adventure she'd been in had kept her up the previous night, trying to change her own past as she relived it. But she was an adventurer now, and Jani was her party's leader. Lavender's courage did not fail her. Her wits did not fail her. The only part of her that failed was her foolhardiness. There was nothing that she could do in this moment that would save Jani from her current pain and humiliation. The best she could do would be to save Jani from her too-soon-to-be-called-the-future death.

---

"Chanbun!" Coriander's cry shook the inn. "My daughter's sheep are milling out outside the inn AGAIN! Are you plying her with your liquor and your wiles?"

Coriander had felt unsettled since word of Alexandrite's death had reached the butcher. She had begun to fear for her daughter's safety. If even that cruel man in his cruel complex with his cruel gates and cruel wealth and cruel security could be cruelly beaten to death, then surely her kind and gentle daughter would be easy pickings for a maniac. Maybe this elf had a whole army of elves waiting in the forest. She'd always loved the forest, but now she thought it must be full of dangers and death-dealing elves. Maybe the cruel man's cruel monstrosities were the only way to keep their town safe. Maybe she should have sent him discounted flank steaks like he'd requested.

Bother, no. He was rich enough. But was was the operative word.

There was Lavender, just like a delicate flower, straddling a chair, gesticulating wildly, a glint in her eye, jabbing her finger and coming from her mouth, "Anyone who gets in our way will eat dirt, too."

Oh. Oh. thought Coriander, Oh. At least she's safe.

I challenge my #NovMadFan @whatisnew and @wonderwop to be funny for COM, too!