"What is that god forsaken noise," Quaraun moaned.

The Elf was slumped face down over the table. Unicorn wasn't sure if Quaraun was drunk, tired, sick, or all of the above.

"It a wee lil Halfling," Unicorn answered. "Him signing himself up a storm."

"Make him shut up."

Unicorn slid out of his seat and went to the Halfling's table. The tiny little humanoid was dancing gleefully, in between singing and reciting poetry.

"Me Elf be wanting ya to shut ya wee lil trap," the old undead Phooka said to the Halfling.

A few moments later, Unicorn returned to Quaraun's table and once again sat down beside the Elf. Quaraun was still slumped over the table and had not yet looked up.

"I can still hear him," Quaraun muttered through his hair.

"Aye. Him say ya was nothing but a no good son of bitch arrogant High Elf. Him told me to tell ya to fuck yaself."

"I won't have to, I'm sure you'll do that later."

"Of course I will."

"I have a headache."

"Dat mean I can no fuck ya?"

"It means I want that fucking piece of shit to shut up. I didn't come here to listen to poetry. If had wanted to hear poetry recited I would have come to a theatre. I'm trying to rest."

"On de table?"

"Leave me alone. I'm tired."

"We could rent a room."

"I don't want to rent a room. I'm fine, right here."

"I could fuck ya better in a room. More privacy."

"I don't need a room. I need a nap."

"I could fuck ya here at de table."

"You do and I'll ram my wand up your ass."

"Yeah. I know dat suppose to be threat, but I probably would like dat. So dat not incentive for me to no fuck ya on table."

"I just want that singing wretch to shut his fucking mouth."

"Dat be a long poem him singing. Will take him an hour to get t'rough it."

"Make him shut up."

"How ya propose I do dat?"

"I don't know. Think of something. You're a Trickster Faerie. You always think of something. You pride yourself on being the most annoying damned Fae on the planet. Do one of those things that you do. Just make him stop singing."

Unicorn got up and once again returned to the Halfling's table. This time he stood and silently watched the tiny creature as it merrily skipped and danced on the table, in the beat to it's sing-song poetry recital. Unicorn walked slowly around the table watching the little creature's every move, listening to the song, picking up on the cues of his movements.

After a minute or so, Unicorn stopped moving and stood, silently, watching and waiting for just the right moment, and when that moment came, he swiftly pulled his machete from his hakama and lopped off the Halfling's head. There was a brief shrill gurgle shriek as the last stanza of the poem was cut to an abrupt hault.

At the sound of the Halfling's dying breath, Quaraun looked up for the first time. He sat staring and blinking, uncertain if Unicorn had actually just done, what he thought Unicorn had just did.

Unicorn pranced back to Quaraun's table and plopped the Halfling's severed head in the middle of Quaraun's plate.

"Dair. Him no more sing," Unicorn said cheerfully, proudly beaming over his work.

"That's not what I asked you to do."

"Ya tolds me to make him shut up un I did."

"You cut off his frigging head!"

"Aye. Un now ya can add it to ya head collection."

"I don't have a... oh." Quaraun reached into his bag and pulled out Gibedon's head. "I forgot about that. Why does everybody keep losing their head around me?"

BeLuna entered the tavern just then, back from her errands and was about to start one of her usual conversations with Quaraun when she saw the Halfling's head.

"Quaraun, why do you have a head in your plate?"

"Why do you say that so calmly, like this is normal every day thing to happen to me?"

"Well, uhm... you know... it kind of is."

Before Quaraun had a chance to answer, Bullgar joined the trio.

"Quaraun!" The giant Dwarf boomed. "There's a head in your plate!" 

"I hate my life."

~From "The Journey Begins" (Volume 4 of The Quaraun Series)