This is the first of several stories about how I lost my eye. It works best for people with one blind/milky eye, but since none of the stories are true, I guess you can lie about being half-blind too. In addition, there are some Prydaen references you'll have to alter. Thanks to Draconita for ushering me to the forums and making me post this when she heard it.
- Rakshini Syadasti

The First Eye Story: Rakshi and the Fiddler's Ghost

put say It seems like every day that some well-meaning person notices my eye . . . or should I say, my lack of one.
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put act smiles ruefully and taps her left eye, which is as milky and unseeing as a moonstone.
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put say And though they keep their voices polite when they ask about it, by their scents I know they pity me.
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put say So that's why I'm telling this story - to get the record straight. To tell everyone how I lost it, and why I'm glad I did.
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put inhale
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put exhale
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put say When I was just a little kitten, no taller than my tail, I already knew that I wanted to be a bard.
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put smile
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put say Even at that tender age, I had a fine, yowling sort of soprano, and I could spin a lie with the best of them.
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put say /helplessly But instruments . . . I couldn't play the simplest of lyres to save my life. I cut harp strings with my claws, gnawed my bones to slivers, and scared even the insects away with my ocarina.
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put say I despaired of ever making money as a real bard, and resigned myself to telling tales in taprooms, spinning poems to the bees.
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put say Until the day I heard a story, told by an old gypsy fiddler, that stopped my blood cold.
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put act hunches over, screws up her blind eye, and becomes the old gypsy woman as she rasps:
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put say /harshly There is a hill, young one, where the Ghost of the Elven Fiddler roams still. If you challenge him on that hill, you will either return as a bard, or insane . . . or perhaps not at all.
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put ear curious
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put say Being the inquisitive sort of kitten that I was, I thought it sounded like fun. So I packed up my instruments, and set out in search of the Hill.
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put say Days later, as I roamed the hills by moonlight, I heard the soft, elusive strains of a violin, masterfully played.
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put say I tried to follow the music, but it grew no softer or louder in any direction. Finally, I gave up -
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put say /slowly - and it was only then that the Fiddler appeared, casting off his invisibility like a cloak.
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put say Somehow, I can't recall his face, or his hair, or how tall he stood. All I know is that he looked absolutely solid, and disconcertingly mortal.
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put say I do remember his eyes, because they were what gave him away - instead of true eyes, he had two slanted sockets that glowed with a blind blue light.
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put shiver
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put say And he spoke to me, in a voice like the grave -
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put act glares and draws herself up to elven height, sweeping an invisible, ghostly cloak about her shoulders.
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put say /harshly You must know the challenge you propose by coming here. Play your lyre, and show yourself to be my master. Or else die on this hill.
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put get lyre
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put say I begged with the Fiddler to change his mind. "Can't it be stories?" I asked. "Riddles? Jokes? I can dance a little . . . ."
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put say But the Fiddler was unmoved, standing ready to deal death.
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put say So I pricked my claws, put on a brave face, and began to strum my lyre, praying to the gods that my effort would miraculously best his.
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put say In my nervousness, two strings snapped. The discordant twang echoed dully, scaring birds from trees.
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put say The Ghost of the Elven Fiddler stared at me a long moment, his pale-blue eyes burning into me with their witchfire. His face twitched - twisted terrifyingly -
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put say And he began to laugh, echoing belly-laughs that rang across the hills.
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put say And he smiled at me, this ghostly Fiddler, and said, "I haven't had a laugh like that in centuries. I like your spirit . . . and I pity you more than a little."
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put say He told me, "I'll let you leave, and what's more - I'll give you a gift. One of my eyes, if you give me one of yours."
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put say In my naive fearlessness, I asked the elven ghost, "Why should I want one of your eyes?"
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put say The Fiddler replied, "My eyes are blind to this world, but they see another. They see shapes beneath shapes, and colors that have never existed, and stories that have never been told. They see the invisible, unreal, and the never-was."
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put say I couldn't turn down an offer like that, so I gave him my left eye, and he gave me his. Luckily, they both slanted some, so they fit all right.
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put say Then I ran out of there as fast as I could, back to my home and my mother, weak with relief that I'd survived.
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put say And if you don't believe me, just find the Fiddler's Ghost and ask him yourself.
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put say He's wearing one of my eyes, Siamese blue, and I have his eye that can see the wind.
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put say Oh, and if you see him before I do . . . . ? Ask him whether I came down a Bard or mad. Most days, I can't tell the difference.
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put bow