[Nurumaiel]

"Oh, good Hearpwine, that was one of the loveliest songs that has graced my ear in many a day," Maercwen cried, looking up from her slate. "Indeed every song that has been sung this night is delightful and full of brave deeds and love." She turned coaxing eyes to her uncle. "Wouldn't you, Uncle Liornung, sing the rather amusing song of the laddie who went courting a lass for the first and the last time due to the events that came of it?"

Liornung couldn't resist laughing. "That was a highly amusing song, I'll admit," he said, and spoke next to Hearpwine. "She speaks of a song I was taught by a Gondorian bard when I was just a lad. 'Twas he who gave me this fiddle. Shall I sing you the song?"

"I daresay I could manage to laugh at anything amusing," Hearpwine said. "If it would please Miss Maercwen..." He looked in her direction, and she spoke quickly, saying, "It would indeed."

"Then," Liornung said, catching up his fiddle, "I shall sing it."

Whack-fo-the-diddle-di-dum-day!

When I was but a lad of twenty years or so
there was a maid who down the streets would go
every morning early, every evening dark
singing like the high-soaring, bonnie, bonnie lark.

She sang,
Whack-fo-the-diddle-di-dum-day!
Singing like the high-soaring, bonnie, bonnie lark.

She was fair to look at, her manners did charm
to call on her a day I thought it wouldn't harm
but little, little did I know the heart of this maid
so did I love all she did and all she said.

She said,
Whack-fo-the-diddle-di-dum-day!
So did I love all she did and all she said.

I called on her one day early in the spring.
She asked me to sit down, treated me like a king
but when I chanced to ask if she'd marry me
I sorely regretted it and felt as though to flee.

She said,
Whack-fo-the-diddle-di-dum-day!
I sorely regretted it and felt as though to flee.

She flew up from her chair, caught me by the hair
and gave me a beating that I could hardly bear.
Then she took me up and in the fire threw me
and I was drove half mad till I hardly knew me.

She said,
Whack-fo-the-diddle-di-dum-day!
And I was drove half mad till I hardly knew me.

Then out of the fire and out of the door
and she took it to beat me a little bit more.
And there was a pond and in it she tossed
me and all my love dreams that were past.

She said,
Whack-fo-the-diddle-di-dum-day!
Me and all my love dreams that were past.

I'll never again go courting lassies fair,
not here in Rohan, or Gondor, nor anywhere.
I value my life, if I court she will kill
and of courting the lassies I've had my fill.

I sing,
Whack-fo-the-diddle-di-dum-day!
Of courting the lassies I've had my fill.

Liornung finished his song but not his tune. He appeared to be madly excited over his song and began to work his fiddle at a rapid pace. A merry tune, similiar to the tune of the song yet different, was brought forth from his old instrument and after listening a little while Hearpwine took up his harp and began to play along with him. Gomen jumped to his feet and extended a hand to Maercwen, who took it gleefully, and soon they were dancing about the common room, twirling and spinning, laughing heartily. Liornung brought his tune out harder and faster, Hearpwine followed, and the two children danced harder. For a full two minutes it went on before Liornung brought the melody to a satisfying conclusion. Gomen and Maercwen collapsed by their slates, breathing hard but laughing still. Liornung smiled fondly at them.

"You dance as lovely as you did when you were a baby," he said. "I fancy tonight there will be much dancing, but I'll be so busy playing my fiddle that I shan't be able to."

"Never think that, good Liornung," Hearpwine spoke up quickly. "I will play music on my harp and you shall dance with your niece at least once."

"What about her mother?"

"Her as well."

"And all her sisters?"

"Oh, my dear Uncle Liornung," Maercwen laughed, "you mustn't demand too much of Master Hearpwine. Next you'll want to dance with Bethberry and Aylwen and all the women in the inn, and then not satisfied you'll begin requesting dances of Gomen and my father!"

"Your father," Liornung said gravely, "is the worst dancer I have ever seen, and his singing is worse. He always did spend too much time with those horses." Hearpwine's eyebrows raised sightly and Liornung laughed. "Nay, Good Hearpwine, do not let my teasing fool you. My brother is a fair singer and an excellent dancer. He can't help it with a little brother like me."

"Rest your voice a little now, good uncle," Maercwen said. "Let Master Hearpwine take a turn. Will you," she added, turning to the future Bard of the King, "sing any song I request of you?"

"Any, Miss Maercwen."

A little smile flickered across her face. "You needn't call me that," she said. "My uncle and family always refer to me as Mae. In truth it is a rather charming name. But come, sing to me a song about a dance so we may anticipate tonight's festivities. Create in song a room lit by a fire, a fiddler sitting by that fire playing merry and delightful tunes, and people dancing about together in complete happiness and fun."