The Blood of the Gypsy

"There is nothing lonelier than adventure." Said the silhouette of a man. I sat there with my pint of mead wondering on his words. what a fool might I laughed! To squander a gift as priceless as freedom. I sat there relishing in my undeserved knowledge. The silhouette of a man slowly moved from the shadows. the apparition keen to my sneerings glided over to my table and as fluid as he came he sat. His eyes were cloudy and blue, and his face showed a weariness that no amount of sleep could solve. We sat for what seemed like an eternity, his eyes not moving showing no emotion, stealing any pride or strength I had. This Man was once a great Champion. I opened my mouth to speak and he stopped me saying. "buy me an ale and Ill tell you my tale". I softly chuckled to myself but his ice cold air made my laughter dribble out. He told me the tale of his youth. His foes slain and maidens pillaged. He told me of all of his triumphs and what little defeats he had. The man went on for hours telling me tale after tale of outlandish odds and power overwhelming. I stared with my mouth fully dropped this man had to be a god! or a Demon. he finally laughed and gulped down the last of his ale and told me. "When at home, a man dreams of adventure- and during an adventure, a man dreams of home" the man struggled to stand up, then hobbled away.