[Nurumaiel]

Earcwen had uttered a startled cry as she fell at the man's feet, and she stood, hay clinging to her hair and dress, and a look of complete bewilderment and confusion on her face. 'Goodness gracious!' she cried. 'Sir, I am so sorry to have fallen and caused what might be some inconvenience.' She cocked her head to one side and the look of distress on her face momentarily vanished as she smiled mischievously. 'I must admit, however, that I am even more sorry at having been caught in the act of eavesdropping.' She blushed then, and ducked her head, occupying herself with the task of pulling bits of hay from her skirt. She found herself quite at a loss of what to say, and so decided it would be wiser to say nothing.

Andhun had gotten to his feet, and he approached Earcwen, laughing slightly. 'Here,' he said, 'bend down and I'll take the hay out of your hair.' Earcwen obliged, and he began the task. Sallie became intrigued and was soon pulling hay with Andhun. At one point Earcwen felt a sudden, sharp pain in her head, but though she blinked she kept her mouth firmly closed, and soon Sallie giggled a bit sheepishly. 'Oops,' she said, 'that wasn't hay, that was a hair.' And she held up a strand of, yes indeed, hair. Earcwen felt mirth bubbling up inside of her, and she laughed and tickled the little girl. Then she stood patiently until Andhun stepped back, saying, 'There, I think we've finished.'

'Thank you kindly,' said Earcwen seriously, and then with another blush she looked up at Rochadan. 'I apologize, sir, for eavesdropping,' she said. 'I was intrigued by the singing, and I could not help but look when I found that little crack in the wood.' She paused, and glanced at Andhun. Her face worked, as if she were in a study as to what she should say, and at last she spoke, saying, 'What a charming little song you sang!' She decided that while a girl might enjoy being told she had a fine singing voice, it might not mean as much to a boy.

'I thank you,' said Andhun, his voice grave. 'My mother knew many beautiful songs, and that is only one of them.'

'Sing for me a favourite of yours,' said Earcwen. 'I enjoy hearing you sing very much.'

'Very well,' said Andhun, and he began to sing:

When I was young I had no sense
I bought a fiddle for eighteen pence
The only tune that I could play
Was Over the Hills and Very Far Away
So early in the morning,
so early in the morning,
so early in the morning, before the break of day.

The song was sweet, and had a childish air about it, immediately attractive to the ears of both Earcwen and Sallie, who smiled widely and applauded generously. And Sallie said, 'Again.'

'No, no!' said Andhun. 'I will song you another song, but I won't sing you that one. Listen, Sallie, to this song.' And he began another song, which was beautiful, and while the words expressed a longing the tune was full of peace, as if the one in the song were fairly sure that he would someday have what he wished, and full of happiness as the one reflected upon what he would do for his love.

Oh, I wish I had my Sally-o,
Sally-o, Sally-o.
Oh I wish I had my Sally-o
where the wild birds sing on the mountain.

Let the wind blow high, let the wind blow low,
I'd feel no cold from the frost or snow
if I only had my Sally-o
where the wild birds sing on the mountain.

Oh, I would gather flowers so sweet,
flowers so sweet, flowers so sweet,
and pile them round my Sally's feet
where the wild birds sing on the moutain.

Let the wind blow high, let the wind blow low,
I'd feel no cold from the frost or snow
if I only had my Sally-o
where the wild birds sing on the mountain.

Oh, I'd bring salmon from the stream,
from the stream, from the stream,
and berries fit for any queen
where the wild birds sing on the mountain.

Let the wind blow high, let the wind blow low,
I'd feel no cold from the frost or snow
if I only had my Sally-o
where the wild birds sing on the mountain.

Oh, we'd have music all the day,
all the day, all the day,
and peace that drives all cares away
where the wild birds sing on the mountain.

Let the wind blow high, let the wind blow low,
I'd feel no cold from the frost or snow
if I only had my Sally-o
where the wild birds sing on the mountain.