The Green Dragon Inn - Part 9

[Galadel Vinorel]

"The singing seems to have calmed him," thought Galadel, "Good. Now he may rest for a little while."

After hearing the young man's speech to her, Galadel, with the help of Roa and Vathalion, lifted Snaveling from his awarkard position on the ground. They carried him to the stables. When they had laid him down on some hay, the elf sent Vathalion to find the hobbit that Snaveling had seen before he had fainted. "Tell him to come at once," said Galadel, "Stand outside these stables with him until I have sent Roa to you. Then you may allow him to enter here. I think that that is best, for we do not want to cause Snaveling any more harm than has already come to him."

Looking a little confused, Vathalion hurried off to the courtyard where the hobbit had last been seen. When he had left them, the elf asked Roa for a pot of water to soak some of her herbs in. Off Roa went to the storage house where she had seen some pots, and then she went to the pump on the side of the burned inn for some water

Once the ranger was gone, Galadel covered Snaveling with a blanket to keep him from going into chills. She then took some dark brown leaves from the pouch at her side and held them in her hand. She rubbed the leaves on his forehead that was creased in pain and the palms of his hands. Snaveling grumbled in his sleep and moved his head a little. Smiling, Galadel rubbed the sweat off of the man's forehead with the edge of her cloak and then let herself drop down ffom her knees to sit on the ground next to him.

Whispering into the man's ear, the maiden spoke, "Oh why do you have to keep this secret hidden within, Snaveling. If you wish to ever be well again, you must tell her. You must tell Roa soon, or you will soon not have enough strength to even speak at all. I can not fully heal you, only you can, Snaveling. For now, sleep, and I will try to make your rest a little more peaceful."

Resting against a wooden beam, Galadel laid her hand upon Snaveling's forehead and began to sing a gentle song in her language of Quenya. The day moved on as she sat in the stable singing, while outside the hustle and of the day caught everyone else in its quickly moving arms.

Men cenuva fánë cirya
métima hrestallo círa,
i fairi nécë
ringa súmaryassë
ve maiwi yaimië?


Man tiruva fána cirya,
wilwarin wilwa,
ëar-celumessen
rámainen elvië
ëar falastala,
winga hlápula
rámar sisílala,
cálë fifírula?

Man hlaruva rávëa súrë
ve tauri lillassië,
ninqui carcar yarra
isilmë ilcalassë,
isilmë pícalassë,
isilmë lantalassë
ve loicolícuma;
raumo nurrua,
undumë rúma?


Man cenuva lumbor ahosta
Menel acúna
ruxal' ambonnar,
ëar amortala,
undumë hácala,
enwina lúmë
elenillor pella
talta-taltala
atalantië mindonnar?

Man tiruva rácina cirya
ondolissë mornë
nu fanyarë rúcina,
anar púrëa tihta
axor ilcalannar
on bones gleaming
métim' auressë?
in the last morning?
Man cenuva métim' andúnë?