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Old 09-22-2006, 05:58 PM   #339
Farael
Ghost Prince of Cardolan
 
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Join Date: Nov 2005
Location: In hospitals, call rooms and (rarely) my apartment.
Posts: 1,549
Farael has just left Hobbiton.
It wasn’t going to be a night for song-making, that was as sure as sunrise. The man, Edric, seemed to be really eager to make conversation and it would be poor manners not to talk to him. ‘By all means, do join me. Robby Appledore from Breeland at your service’ he stood up and offered his hand to the stranger ‘I myself have just walked in, I was lost in thought and my feet lead me this way. Well met I say, this Inn sure feels cozy although…’ he lowered his voice almost to a whisper ‘I know an Inn that is even better than this one. The hobbit folk are great hosts, but nothing tops the Prancing Pony Inn and that’s a fact. I don’t know if you have visited it during your stay in our city, but I think not because if you had tried that sweet ale you would have never left! Ha!’ He laughed out loud and banged his hand on the table; drawing again gazes from other people.

Then Rowan came, carrying some delicious looking dishes. When the table was set both men dedicated themselves to the food. It was only after their hunger was (partially) quenched that Robby talked again. “Yes, you are right. Miss Rowan is a lovely young lady, even more so for the great food that she brings to us.’ He smiled broadly and took a good swig of ale ‘Still my friend, you must have heard some very interesting stories both in Rohan and in the land of Gondor. Perhaps you would care to share some? Because, well…” his voice trailed off, all of a sudden he felt insecure, almost inadequate “well, I am a bit of a song writer myself. From what I have heard of these folks I am no match to their skill and yet perhaps you can tell me something to… to inspire me”

Perhaps it was the cheerful look on this stranger’s face or perhaps it was the relaxed atmosphere but before he realized it, Robby was out-talking Edric himself. “See, I am no musician. I am a farmer, son of a farmer from a farming family. Back home… well, they did not want me to make music. ‘Lines and poems? Carrots and potatoes is what you should spend your time thinking of’ but yet it is like a calling, you know? I did not choose music, music chose me. I must follow my calling and so I am travelling the world now, seeking for that elusive inspiration. Perhaps if I found the elves, they are said to be very inspiring. But elves are not easy to find anymore. Perhaps I should ask that fair folk over there. The singers and such. They all look so beautiful perhaps they have seen an elf or two.” He gazed at them, so fair and yet somehow strange to the eye.

‘Nonsense Appledore. They are just beautiful men, stop your dreams or soon you will convince yourself that they are elves after all’
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