[Aylwen Dreamsong]

“Well, let’s go,” Jadae said to her companions. They all nodded, and the group began the trip to the mountain that held the book, the Wanaparma.

There they were, one group made of six totally different people. A wise Dwarf walked next to a rogue Elf. A trader walked next to the artisan, and the guard strode alongside the worker. Such strange things had happened in only two days, and now Jadae was leaving her home to find a book of untold wealth and importance.

“Oh yes!” Jadae suddenly exclaimed, remembering something. All her companions turned to her, and if any could see it, she blushed under her tan skin.

“I just remembered the candles, is all,” Jadae answered everyone else’s stares. Taking her pack off her back, she opened the flap to reveal stuffed candles above extra clothes, food, water, and a few things from Jadae’s shop that she thought might become useful later.

“There are enough for everyone to have two, except for two people who will only have one. They’ll burn for a long time though, I’m sure. Emmy is very good at what she does…” Jadae trailed off, her mind wandering to what other sorts of things Emmy might have tricked her candles with, considering all that time she had.

“Anyways,” Jadae continued and began handing out candles. She decided she would be one to only hold one candle, and whoever volunteered would be the other.

“Jadae, I really don’t think it’s necessary that we carry candles. I have torches. You know well that I am always traveling in the wild, and I am of course, never unprepared,” Anuion informed when Jadae went to hand him his candles. Jadae eyed Anuion with amusement.

“Are you certain? You’ll never know…”

“I’m sure.”

“Alright then! This means everyone – except for Anuion, that is - gets two candles…” Jadae finished handing out candles. Then, from the bottom of her pack, she dug out five lumps of stone and five thin sheets of metal.

“I think it is called flint, and this is steel. When you strike the steel down across the sharp edge of the flint, a spark is created. The rock shears off tiny pieces and flakes of the metal sheet. The ripping of the metal heats up the flecks so that they can catch fire. I guess you could say that the sparks are actually tiny gobs of flying, melted metal. It may take practice to actually get this technique to light your candle,” Jadae explained as she handed out the rocks and metal.

"Would anyone care for a song?" Jadae inquired as the men and dwarf examined the items. Arethin lifted his head, ever the avid listener for such works.

"How shall we get any music?" Angalos asked, and at this, Jadae smiled. She rumaged through her pack and pulled out a small wooden flute and two intricately designed twigs of wood. She handed the latter to Mattius, and the former to Rosfin.

"A quick beat, if you please, Mattius," At Jadae's comment, Mattius beat the sticks against the rock upon which he sat, and the fast-paced sound bounced about the area. "Rosfin, could you join once you figure the tune?" The dwarf nodded, and Jadae began her song.


Under a spreading chesnut tree
The village smithy stands.
The smith, a mighty man is he;
With large and sinewy hands
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.


After the first verse, Rosfin joined in with a merry, jolly tune fitting the song Jadae had begun perfectly.


His hair is crisp, and black, and long
His face is like the tan
His brow is wet with honest sweat:
He earns whate'r he can.
He looks the whole world in the face
For he owes not any man.

Week in, week out, from morning until night
You can hear his bellows blow
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge
With measured beat and slow
Like the guardsmen ringing the village bell
When the evening sun is low

And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door,
They love to see the flaming forge
And hear the bellows roar
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chafe from a threshing floor

He hears his daughter's voice
Sining in the village choir
And it makes his heart rejoice!
It sounds to him like her mother's voice
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more
How in the grave she lies
And with his hard rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes


Towards the end of the song, the mood became a somber and slow one, and Rosfin easily picked up the new tunes.


Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing,
Onwards through life he goes
Each morning sees some task being
Each evening sees it close
Something attempted, something done
Has earned the night's repose

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend
For the lesson thou hast taught
Thus the flaming forge of life
Continues as was wrought.


As the song ended, both Mattius and Rosfin continued their parts for another eight beats. Jadae bowed clumsily.

[ March 10, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]