APPEARANCE NUMBER TWO:
DAEROHIL, ELVISH GHOSTLY STABLE LAD OF CASTLE MALADIL
Who could resist running at full beautiful breakneck speed, free under the sun, down a gleaming red carpet? Not Daerohil! But the ghostly Elvish stable lad froze in his tracks on seeing the monster … a huge Orc, bigger and meaner-looking than the ones who'd killed him in the stables of Castle Maladil in the Second Age.
It couldn't harm him, of course, not now. But somehow, Daerohil didn't want the Orc to see him, not even the faintest glimmery phasing in-and-out at the edge of vision "trick of the light" way that made people look again wondering if they'd seen a wandering spirit. Not even if he'd only be mistaken for a small barrow wight around these burial mounds anyways. Daerohil looked from side to side for a hiding place.
But at that moment, a young Man who'd been confronting the Orc with a scimitar was rising to his feet, and a small dark square was leaping from the Man's pack, and the square hit the Orc square atop the noggin until the Orc sank fainted into a heap! Giggling, Daerohil leapt over the horrible creature and ran past the Man to see what the red carpet led to. Perhaps it led to Valinor? Maybe so.
Meanwhile, Daerohil recognized a small familiar form … a girl named Poppy Took who had been one of the very first visitors to Castle Maladil in over a thousand years … and also one of the very last, because with the curse lifted, the castle had been declared no more. Daerohil scooted over to Poppy and bowed a low bow with many a mirthful flourish of arms and hands. "Good to see you!," he shouted happily, "Where are we? And do you have a pony that I may tend for you, honored Miss?" Daerohil hoped Poppy would be able to see and hear him well enough to communicate. Meanwhile, he went and picked some nearby daffodils, then scampered back to hold out the bouquet to Poppy.
Then Daerohil heard it, the music … and even after hearing these very same plaintive notes for century upon century, smiled wide in glad appreciation. Kenelm's harp-playing! With a difference. This harp must be new, for the tone was rich and full, as of a harp with all of its strings intact and finely tuned in excellent repair. After all, Kenelm had given away his old harp as a present to one of the visitors. Daerohil waved to Kenelm, listening rather than speaking, "speaking" admiration through rapt attention, so as not to break the harpist's concentration. Daerohil sighed with contentment.
|