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Hearpwine’s eyes opened in wonderment at Larien’s tale. There were stories a-plenty of foundlings taken in by Elves, but he had never thought to meet with one such mortal in the flesh. And a Halfling at that! He had seen a great many wondrous peoples in his days, but this was certainly a rarity.
Standing, he bowed low. “Anyone who has had their rearing in Imladris bears with them the nobility of that land. I myself laid eyes upon the Lord Elrond but once before he left these shores, but I have many times gazed with love upon the beauty of Queen Arwen. In your own voice I hear the echoes of the piny woods that she often speaks of.” Sitting once more he began to speak of the Shire, about which – apparently – he knew more than this strange Hobbit. “I am myself but newly arrived to this realm, but my King has spoken of it often. The bonds of friendship between the Lord Eomer and Meriadoc Brandybuck are deep and abiding. Indeed, it is for the sake of that friendship that I am here, for King Eomer has sent me into this land to learn its songs so that I might amuse the lords of Rohan with them after the day’s work is done.”
Ginger smiled at Hearpwine quite prettily asking if he had learned any songs of the Shire yet. Hearpwine’s smile grew even wider and his voice boomed out happily. “All those that have been sung this night are engraved upon my heart, and there is another, truly unique song, that has this day been composed by the children of the Shire, which I will bring forth soon…but it requires still some meditation.”
“Do they sing the songs of the Shire away in the South, then?” Larien inquired.
“That we do, but only those few which were taught to us by the Great Hearts of the Shire at the end of the War. They are not much like the songs of the Rohirrim, but they are lovely nonetheless:
“The violet and the primrose too
Beneath a sheltering thorny bough
In bright and lively colours blow
And cast sweet fragrance round.
Where beds of thyme in clusters lay
The heath rose opens its eyes in May
And cowslips, too, their sweets display
Upon the heathy ground.
“Here shepherds meet at close of day
To chant their merry roundelay
And chase unhappy thought away
No discord here is found.
Harmonious notes make mountains ring
When minstrels strike the trembling string
And merry shepherds dance and sing
Upon the heathy ground.”
He sang unaccompanied by his harp, but the bard’s rich voice was a strong baritone and it did the simple tune ample justice. It was a familiar song to many there and some of the Halflings who heard it looked up in surprise that it was being sung – so loudly – by this tall Man. At its conclusion, the bard threw back his head and laughed infectiously. “It has always been a great favourite of mine! It was first brought to the Golden Hall by Peregrin Took, son of Paladin, when he sang it at the coronation of King Eomer!”
“You seem to know much of the Shire, Lord Hearpwine,” Larien said.
“Nay nay, call me not ‘Lord’! I am the son of a small house in the far west of Rohan, and heir to little more than a small green valley, which – beautiful as it may be – houses only a few dozen farmsteads. Whatever glory I may claim comes from my role as Bard to the King. If you must use a title, use that – but I would be much happier if you were simply to call me your new friend, Hearpwine!”
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