Harry Styles: The Bard

Look what it is, yet another Harry Styles fan fiction, but this one has a twist! It's been written by a hater of 1D and Harry Styles. Not only that but the writer is a fantasy writer?

Lets put Harry Styles in a fantasy setting and see what happens to him


2. Chapter Two

Harry was awaked by the cold splash of water on his face. Remembering nothing but fainting he assumed he was in his dressing room. He opened his eyes and rolled over. The first thing he saw was a discarded bucket on the floor, now empty of water. The walls around him were rough cut stone and in the corner a very short man and normal sized man talked. Something about him? Oh good maybe they’d heard of him, after all who hadn’t. So where as he anyway, this wasn’t his dressing room.

The two men walked over him to. The short was very brash and sudden “Are you a bard? Ya seems like a bard,”. Harry looked at them in confusion. The short one looked up at the normal one “He seems like a bard, he has very silly hair and he his scream it was very feminine,”

Harry started to blush, “Um no I’m not gay..”. The short one murmured under his breath, “Moron,” but before the insults could escalate the more normal of the two stopped him, “He means do you play music” he said kindly to Harry. His eyes lit up “Oh yes, don’t you know who I am”. They stared at him blankly. “I’m Harry,” their looks were still blank. “Harry Styles?”, their faces were still blank. “I’m a singer,” he said in resignation, clearly these were uncultured fools. “AH HA so you are a bard” the short one yelled out. “Umm I guess?” Harry said very unsurely.

The three of them walked along the corridor, making their way to the grand hall of the squat castle they were within. Harry’s interest had been piqued when he stood up to the shorter man and he couldn’t resist any longer. “Um so do you like have that genetic problem, dwarfism?”. The dwarf stopped. He turned around. He looked up at Harry. “What do ya mean ‘genetic problem’ boy?”, the glare continued. “I’M A BLEEDIN’ DWARF TIS MY RACE NOT A BLEEDIN’ DEFECT” and with a gauntleted fist to the face Harry was once again unconscious. 

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