|
Hearpwine was shaken from his long reverie by the sound of music. The hours had passed swiftly as he contemplated the new song, and even the meal that he had taken at supper had passed his lips almost without his notice. The front part of the room had been taken over by the same party of Halflings who had sung last night and it was their music which had reawakened his spirit. There was applause from the crowd and he joined in heartily, crying out his approval of the tune.
A Ranger whom he’d not noticed sang next, and he was followed by a tiny Halfling maid. She sang quietly at first, but as the music took hold she gained in confidence and strength and soon Hearpwine was transported by the power of the simple tune, which sprang from somewhere near to her heart. He was surprised that it had been composed in Elvish and its origin in the tongue of the Fair Folk was clear in the ringing tones of the composition. When she had finished, the maiden quickly moved away from the stage and sought her own chair once more, pulling her blue cloak about her face. Intrigued, the bard moved to her table.
He loomed above her, his head seemingly a few scant inches from the rafters, and he introduced himself. “Well sung, mistress, and well met! It is odd indeed to meet one who composes songs in the language of the Eldar. I myself know but a few songs of the Elves, and have not yet discovered the facility to create music of my own in that language.”
The hobbit blushed slightly and thanked the bard for his kind words. She introduced herself: “I am Larien, Mister…?”
“Hearpwine!” he cried. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance Mistress Larien. I would ask you to tell me the tale of how you came by the ability to write Elvish music, but I am loathe to ask you for something without granting something in return. I am a bard and I have sat most of this long day without singing. Might I pay your for your tale and warm up my throat with a short song of my own?” The Halfling nodded, and without any more encouragement, Hearpwine was singing.
“As I was a walking down in Stokes Bay
I met a drowned sailor on the beach as he lay
And as I drew nigh him, it put me to a stand,
When I knew it was my own true Love
By the marks on his hand.
“As he was a sailing from his own dear shore
Where the waves and the billows so loudly do roar,
I said to my true Love, I shall see you no more
So farewell, my dearest, you're the lad I adore.”
She put her arms around him, saying “O! My dear!”
She wept and she kiss'd him ten thousand times o'er.
“O I am contented to lie by thy side.”
And in a few moments, this lover she died.
And all in the churchyard these two were laid,
Anda stone for remembrance was laid on her grave,
“My joys are all ended, my pleasures are fled,
This grave that I lie in is my new married bed.”
As he finished a hush fell on those in the immediate vicinity for it was a sad song, and the bard had sung it movingly. Bowing to the scattered applause which came up from the silence, he seated himself next to Larien, and awaited her story.
|