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[Aylwen Dreamsong]

"Jadae, you have a lovely voice. I'd never heard that song before. Where did you learn it?" Arethin had come up to a nearly falling Jadae, for bowing and such mannerisms, especially curtsying, were not Jadae’s strong points.

“Why, thank you, Arethin! No, I shouldn’t think you’ve ever heard it. It hasn’t been sung in a long while. It was written about a smith in Dale, the strongest, hardest-working smith in all of Dale, if you could tell form the song. The younger adults in the center area of Dale may still remember the tune and the lyrics. Anyways, the children of that time were fascinated by the smith’s work, and he even took apprentices in the most dedicated children. He married, and had a child…one child. They lived peacefully and happily for a time, until his wife died. His daughter was twelve when she died, and the smith was crushed. The only things that took his mind off his despair and sadness were his work, and hearing his daughter perform in the small village choir. The smith became engrossed in his work, and forgot to watch his daughter grow up. She soon left home and started her own business. Her name was –"

"Good Rosfin, you are a proprietor of these parts, how long will our march be to the Iron Hills?" Jadae heard Mattius ask, and she stopped her story.

"Not too long," Rosfin answered. "perhaps a day or two at most. In fact I think it was time we were on the move again- come on one and all- to your feet!"

“Right. Let’s go Arethin,” Jadae smiled at Arethin and turned towards the hills that could be seen in the hazy, grey distance. “Why are you so interested in history and writings and such things? The storyteller said he had seen you often as he told stories, and yet I never saw you much. Not too many people appreciate such things as you do.”

[ March 10, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]