[Arry]

Gil put down his concertina and stepped off the stage. The others had already gone off to fill their cups with ale or cider. He, too, was thirsty and stood looking at the two ale kegs that had been tapped. One was a heart stout. He could see the darkness of it swirling about in the mugs of those who’d chosen it for themselves. Enticing . . . but he stepped to his left, instead, and held out his mug for a bit of the Dragon’s nut brown ale. The smooth liquid flowed over his tongue and eased the dryness in his throat.

He stood, cradling the mug in his hands, and looking at the folk in their festive finery. His own clothes were not too dirty or rumpled he decided, looking down at them. With one free hand, he straightened his vest, then pushed back his wild curls. He was a well dressed as he was going to be . . . and what’s more, he was comfortable.

A sudden movement at an upstairs window caught his eye. Zimzi stood there, her hands on the window’s sill, smiling. She leaned out, her dark eyes glinting in the light as she looked about the yard. Her long dark hair was undone, and fell forward brushing her fair cheeks. He was struck by the beauty of her, caught up in her simple pleasure at the day. It was no wonder that Mister Derufin had caught her up and made her his own.

She looked down for a moment, and seeing him, grinned widely. She waved, laughing in delight at having seen him. Her hands made the motions of playing a concertina and she mouthed a ‘thank-you’ to him followed by a small bow. In turn, he raised his mug to her and bowed back. He held up a finger, indicating she should wait a moment.

Gil rushed back to where his concertina lay. He drank his ale down in a quick few gulps and picked up the instrument, moving the bellows back and forth to fill them with air. As quick as he’d left he returned to where he’d stood. An empty table stood nearby, and he jumped on its top, playing the opening notes to a song he hoped she would like. With a nod and a smile, he broke into song, changing the words of the old traditional Mairi's Wedding to fit the occasion.

Step we gaily, on we go
Heel for heel and toe for toe,
Arm in arm and row on row
All for Zimzi’s wedding.

Over hillways up and down
Myrtle green and bracken brown,
Past the camps through the town
All for sake of Zimzi.

Plenty herring, plenty meal
Plenty peat to fill her creel,
Plenty bonny bairns as weel
That's the toast for Zimzi.

Tomlin, too, seeing his companion singing to the fair lady, had grabbed up his fiddle and joined in on the accompaniment. Fallon and Ferrin, for their part, kept a firm grip on their mugs and sang along on the final chorus.

Cheeks as red as rowans are
Bright her eyes as any star,
Fairest o' them all by far
Is our darlin' Zimzi.

Step we gaily, on we go
Heel for heel and toe for toe,
Arm in arm and row on row
All for Zimzi’s wedding.

The lads bowed as they finished. And Zimzi, smiling, threw them each a small bunch of red Sweet Williams from the vase in her room before a soft voice behind her called her back from the window.