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Pile O'Bones
Join Date: Mar 2001
Posts: 24
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<font face="Verdana"><table><TR><TD><FONT SIZE="1" face="Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif">Pile o' Bones
Posts: 16</TD><TD></TD></TR></TABLE>
Enter Galenwen
Back in the Common Room, talk fell to tales of the Elder Days, and many half-remembered tales were spun of great deeds done in the war against the Great Enemy. A weary, travel-worn figure in the corner sipped at a silver flask. No one could recall when the stranger had joined the company, but many had tried (and failed) to draw him into the conversation. The stranger wore a cloak of dark green, finely made of some soft, heavy cloth, but marred with the stains of many travels. He was very slight of build and carried no weapon save only a long knife that he brought out now and again to carve a bit of the hard yellow cheese that he ate with his bread. A lyre had been slung at his back and now rested close by his gloved hand. He kept his hood pulled close about his face, but now and again he leaned forward as some thread of a tale caught his interest, and a glimpse was seen of sea-green eyes, though the lower part of his face was hidden by a finely woven scarf.
The fire in the hearth had burned low as one of the company recounted the tale of "Narn i Hin Hurin". At that very moment when the tale was come to its conclusion, a gust of chill, damp air blew open the great oaken door, and the lamps were snuffed out. The barmaid shrieked, and Barliman shouted for Nob to bring a light. Someone stumbled in the dark, and a table was overturned. A spark flared to a flame, and the glow showed the face of the stranger for an instant before he set the lamp on the table. His hood had fallen away, and all were surprised to see that "he" was in fact a tall elven maid in the riding-garb of a man. She was glad all in various hues of green, and her long black hair was caught up by a cord of leather.
"Perhaps it is best not to speak of such things. There are stirring again in the wide world Dark Powers that relish not the name of the son of Hurin, for it was fortold that in the Last Battle he will smite the Great Enemy."
One of the company shouted,"Tell us then, some other tale of the old days. Or better yet, play us a song on your harp, Lady."
"Yes," said another, "give us a song to lift our spirits on this dreary night."
The lady brought out her lyre and began to sing in sweet tones the Lay of Leithian, the tale of Beren and Luthien, but her song faltered ere the end, and she fell silent.
"Please, Lady, finish the tale!" one of the halflings begged.
"Nay, friend, you will get no more from me this night. I have no more heart for music-making, and the end of the tale brings to mind painful memories of a dear friend long gone whither I cannot follow, for Luthien the Fair has passed indeed from this world."
The young hobbit gasped. "Luthien? Your friend? But she died ages ago. You must be really old, then--ow!" The young hobbit cried out as his ears were boxed by one of his elders: "Don't you be fogetting you manners, now, young 'un."
"Yes," the elf-maid laughed, "for I am called Galenwen, and in ages past I was a pupil of Daeron the minstrel of Doriath. I sang before the throne of Elu Thingol,lord of Menegroth, and Luthien was my childhood companion. But Beleriand lies now at the bottom of the sea, and I am wont to wander, and I have no lasting abode."
At that moment Butterbur came bustling in with a tray of mugs, bound for the private room and Ferny's party.
"Hey, Barley!" Galenwen called, "a moment of your time if you please!"
"Sorry, Lady," Butterbur replied breathlessly, "but a moment is more than I've got at present. But I do have a message for you, if you can but wait for me to deliver this round of ale to the back room. Hi, Nob! Where is that wooly-footed rascal when I need him?" Butterbur hurried out of the room, muttering to himself.
</p>Edited by: <A HREF=http://www.barrowdowns.com/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_profile&u=00000006>Gilthali on</A> at: 4/13/01 5:58:26 pm
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