[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Aylwen smiled as her song finished, the last tune lingering on the air. She stood, dusting herself off and gazing past the horizon. The new sun had risen, and everything was alive with the dawn as the day began.

The message from Bêthberry to come and help in the White Horse as Assistant Innkeeper was greatly appreciated by Aylwen, who had become rather bored with the typical life in Minas Tirith. Besides, Aylwen had not seen Bêthberry in a long while, and it was high time she visited the Innkeeper. There was even to be a celebration for Aylwen and…well, someone called Child, who were newcomers to the Rohan team.

Aylwen was just about to go inside and talk to Bêthberry about duties for the new day when just around the bend came a figure towards the inn. It was a man, limping slightly, with a harp cradled in one arm! Aylwen grinned, and cheerily greeted the stranger in the only way she could think of in such early hours: singing.


The minstrel boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you will find him;
His father's sword he hath girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him;

"Land of Song!" cried the warrior bard,
"Though' all the world betrays thee,
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!"

The Minstrel fell but the foeman's steel
Could not bring that proud soul under;
The harp he loved never spoke again,
For he tore its chords asunder;

And said, "No chains shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and bravery!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free
They shall never sound in slavery!”

The Minstrel Boy will return we pray
When we hear the news, we all will cheer it,
The minstrel boy will return one day,
Torn perhaps in body, not in spirit.

Then may he play on his harp in peace,
In a world such as Eru intended,
For all the bitterness of man must cease,
And ev'ry battle must be ended.


Aylwen did not wait to gain a reply from the man, and quickly ran into the inn through the kitchen garden door past many different herbs. The moment she entered she was slammed by the wonderful smell of breakfast sausage, spices, and many other things Aylwen could not identify. Soon after the scents had settled in Aylwen’s senses, the brash, clanging sounds of pots and pans followed. The Gondorian woman soon found Bêthberry amidst all the chaos talking with Froma, the head cook. Aylwen strode over to join the Innkeeper and the cook.

“Care for me to help with anything?” were the first words to come out of Aylwen’s mouth, for she was quite anxious to start her job as assistant. “If anyone is still sleeping I could easily wake them up. Then again, they probably wouldn’t like that. I could help take care of the deliveries for the party.”

Aylwen had quickly dismissed the notion of waking up any of the residents of the Inn using her panpipes. The set she was holding had only seven pipe-flutes connected, but they worked all the same. The smallest pipe carried a tiny, delicate sound when blown, and was gentle and sweet to the ears. The second flute was quite the opposite with its brash sound striking few harmonious chords. Aylwen rarely used that pipe unless it was by itself. The third bell was pure of tone and had clarity ringing in its voice that stirred the imagination. Aylwen loved the fourth pipe best, for she enjoyed its musical tone and cheerful melody. The fifth flute seemed to enjoy the sound of its own voice, and it was difficult for Aylwen to carefully blow over that pipe. The sixth bell was strong and powerful, its tone was deep and thick. Last but not least, the seventh flute on the panpipe set was sorrowful and somber with a voice lower than any of the others.

“Oh yes!” Aylwen added quickly, “there was a man coming up to the Inn! Should I go see to him?”

[ June 22, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]