here's another story...
Bardic trainee Hardel stifled a yawn as his history teacher droned on about the first treaty between Valdemar and Rethwellen, signed so long ago that only the Chronicles remembered the names of the Heralds sent down. Bard Torres unfortunately had a gift for making even the most interesting events just anohter endless monologue. Hardel caught the light snore of a student who'd fallen victim to the Bard's hypnotic voice. At last, the bell rang for class to let out. The sleeping trainee jolted awake and grabbed for his books in the chaotic frenzy that the class had turned into. Hardel was one of the few that stayed seated until the clamor had mobed on. After all, what's the point of rushing, since he had a free period next. He collected his books and started back to his room. He had just gotten his favorite 6-stringed gittern out and started to strum when a bolt of sorrow shot through him. He hardly noticed he was still holding his instrument. Only when his wet tears beat a rhythm on the wood did he shake off the immense saddness and clean off his instrument. The feeling slowly diminished, and Hardel felt as good as he had before. Where did that come from? he asked himself. Why would he have reason to feel sad at all, much less the overwhelming feeling he'd experienced? All will be better after I get a good rest, he decided, and plopped down on his bed to do just that.
Hardel awoke to the call of the lunch bell. His stomach growled a bass chord to the chorus of laughter and footsteps from the hall. He got up and threw on fresh clothes hastilly, then rushed off to join the ever-growing crowd of people. Teachers and students alike from all parts of the Collegia swarmed in like moths to a flame. The cook would be hard-pressed to serve enough food to feed the mass, if it weren't for the helpers he was given. And as the trainee recalled, with a grin, the cook wasn't the only one who benefitted from it. He pushed his way through the crowd towards the table he and his friends always sat at. As he passed a table full of girls, a wisp of saddness floated through his mind again. It soon faded in a rush of excitement, but he resolved to find out where it came from. He knew it couldn't have come from himself; he could never be sad at lunch. He was lost in his thoughts until he caught the scent of a platter of meat being set down in front of him.
I'll try to write more. Since this is a short story, I may actually finish it!