The Golden Perch Inn

[Envinyatar]

The fair voice of the male Elf was clear and bright in the smoke filled room. And that of his sister wove in and about the lament in a lovely harmony. Hithadan’s gaze swept round the room, gauging the crowd’s reaction. Not many, indeed hardly any of those gathered, would understand what the song was about. But he could read in their faces their appreciation of the great sorrow which lay behind the words.

‘Now tell me Gil-galad’s fate was not sung most sorrowfully and most fair,’ he spoke low to Tavaro. ‘Surely the songs of the lad and of Mistress Tanwen are tinged with sorrow. But that of the Elves just sung is marrow-deep sorrow itself.’

[Volo]

While the elf went to change. Colren and Tollers walked into the corner of the inn and sat down. Colren ordered some basic (but not by Naren-standards) food and beer for the three. I have money. Big money. It mightn't be such a good idea to use them rather openly, but I'm starving. Only, the origin of all this gold is strange...

"Tollers, so you got your coin back and all's well. But I would like to know more about the people here, while our companion is away, I would appriciate if you could tell me."

[Noinkling]

When Taffy had begun to sing, Skirvir had nodded at Bívor, miming as he did so that he pick up his flute. The two Dwarves played very softly, letting the boy’s words be to the fore while their little harmonies gently ran beneath it.

For the woman’s song, it was Skirvir who played along with the man’s fiddle. He had ventured once with his father and a small group of his father’s companions down to the Sea of Rhun. It was the largest body of water the young Dwarf had ever seen. And though now he knew the Great Sea was ten times ten time ten bigger, still the daunting majesty of that smaller sea stayed with him. And when he recalled stories from the older Dwarves of that great water that hemmed in the lands of their world, he was in awe of the fact that men would venture out upon it for any reason.

As the Elves began to play, Bívor once again raised his flute to his lips. But his brother, Bávor, waved him to silence as the first clear notes left Cir’s lips.

‘Now, that was a lovely song, was it not? I can’t say as I understood any of it. But someone much beloved must have died; someone held very dear,’ Bávor said.

Bívor cocked his head at Skirvir. His cousin’s hands were clasped about his ale mug, his eyes peering into it as if were a bottomless well. ‘Now you can’t say that wasn’t as fair a song as you have heard,’ Bívor said, nudging his cousin from his woolgathering.

For his part, Skirvir looked up, meeting Bívor’s gaze. ‘Oh, aye….it was fair, in it’s own way. Bit on the gloomy side. But fair enough, I’ll reckon it.’

Bávor laughed, and topped off his cousin’s mug, as well as his own and his brother’s. ‘A rare compliment from a Dwarf to an Elf!’ In broad gestures he mimed writing on the palm of his hand. ‘I shall have to put this day down in my journal of our trip and mark it with a star, I think.’

Skirvir raised his bushy brows and grumbled something at Bávor. Then shrugged his shoulders grudgingly and drank down half his mug.

[Lilly]

There had not been much sorrow passed through Taffy’s life. His brief eleven years had so far been happy ones. And the song he’d sung, the one he’d learned from his granpa, was only sad to because it made his granpa sad. His granpa's wrinkly face would settle into deeper furrows, and his eyes grow misty when he sang it.

He’d asked his granpa once what it was that made him so sad. The old man had shook his head, swiped at his eyes with his sleeve, and then mustered a smile at Taffy. ‘No need to be worrying over your old granpa’s weepy ways, my boy. When you get as old as I am sometimes you remember some things that happened long ago, not all of them sad in them selves, mind you. Sometimes they’re just good things that happened or good people that came into your life and now are gone forever.’ He’d ruffled Taffy’s hair and given him a firmer smile, the boy remembered. ‘Right now you’re just making those memories. Life is good and happy, and that’s the way it should be for you.’

Taffy looked at his parents. They sat very quiet at the end of the Elf’s song. His mother had that glisten in his eye and his father bore a sort of faraway and thoughtful look. This was to be expected he reasoned, them being so much older than he.

Now Taffy did feel a certain sort of sadness from the Elves’ song, enhanced somewhat by his parents’ apparent sorrowful demeanor. He wondered, though, that someone as young as Cir appeared could sing something so sad.

‘Pardon me,’ he said, drawing near to where the Elves stood. ‘I liked that very much. It was really pretty. And seemed very sad, just like you said.’ He made a wry face, his mouth in a small moue. ‘But what was it you were so sad about? Did you lose someone in your family. Or a friend?’

[Tam Lin]

‘But that’s just it, isn’t it,’ Tavaro replied to Hithadan. His eyes were on the young Halfling as the boy spoke to the Elves. ‘His song and that of the man and woman were tinged with sorrow; the sadness bleeding into the joy of being alive. It seems to me that the sorrow of men is enfolded somehow by hope and the simple thankfulness of being alive.’ He smiled softly, turning from the tableau of the boy and Elves back to his friend.

‘That hope, that subtle joy – it makes me glad that the One conceived of them and brought them into being.’ He glanced toward the table where the man and woman sat. For a brief moment his he caught Tanwen’s eye, She was gazing his way it seemed. But at second glance, he noted, it was his companion who drew her study.

[Mithalwen]

‘But what was it you were so sad about? Did you lose someone in your family. Or a friend?’ Taffy had asked Cir. The young elf pulled a stool from under the table and offered it to the hobbit lad and paused for a moment thinking how best to explain.

"Not exactly, for the song tells of the death of Gil-Galad, the last King of the High-Elves in Middle Earth and that happened at the end of the last age of the world " said Cir, then noticing that this didn't seem to convey much to Taffy he added "nearly three thousand years ago, and we are not yet fifty summers old. But our father and grandfather, and our uncle Cirion all fought in the army of Gil Galad in the Black Land but only our father came back. He hates it if we sing that song at home and our mother says that for him the memory of that time is still too painful. " The young elf's face tensed at a memory and then brightened. "But we sing merrier songs too - Oh Sister dear, shall we make them smile as well as weep?" he added mischievously with mock courtesy to his sibling. He ducked lest she swipe him in retaliation and grinned at Taffy.

[Firefoot]

"I'm here, Will, just a moment," called Cela from inside the large pantry. "Just putting some things away." She smiled at Will as she emerged; she had not forgotten the earlier incident but was determined both not to acknowledge it and to make up for it. "I was starting to wonder how you and Primrose were getting on. Feeling any better? Or is that tea starting to wear off?"

"More of the second, I'd say," said Will.

"So you only came to see me because you want something, is that how it is?" asked Cela lightly. "Never you mind. I was about to brew up some tea for myself; it's been a long day, wouldn't you say? I'll brew some willowbark up for you at the same time, and some for Primrose, too; even if she doesn't say she wants some, she'll probably be needing it just the same."