"Wait a minute. The Elf-Lord is tall and yellow-haired. I've seen him. This-- this upstart is not the elf-lord. He's up to something; he must be. He's just trying to steal a horse." Talan cried, and Aylwen sighed before looking over at the man called Amroth...what a name...and smiling kindly.

"It does not matter if he were trying to steal a horse or not, Talan." Aylwen murmured softly, looking over her shoulder at the construction going on behind the group. "For we lost all horses belonging to the Inn during the fire two days previous. If Amroth should be requiring a horse, he shall not be getting it from us, I fear..."

Talan smiled a satisfied grin for a moment.

"That does not help me much, Miss," Amroth persisted, glancing at Talan but otherwise ignoring the head builder and bouncer. "Perhaps you can redirect me to someone who might have a horse that I might use."

Talan opened his mouth to protest again. Aylwen hushed him and turned to Amroth. "I shall see what I can do." Aylwen led the men inside and to the counter where the ledger was. She flipped through the pages. "Perhaps one of our patrons would be gracious enough to lend you their horse. Perhaps you could see another stabler in town. However, if a tireless mount is what you are seeking...I apologise sincerely, for you will not find it here."

The young blacksmith nodded to Aylwen, and turned to Talan.

" This morning you saw an elf-lord in your dreams, did you not?" Pressing into Talan's mind, Amroth gazed at him, and thought, "You see, young one, it is indeed I. "

Talan took a few steps backwards, eyes widening.

Amroth began to release his mind. "You see that I bear you no ill will. But do not mock where you have no understanding, young one. Perhaps my looks belie my age? Yet I knew your ancestors in their ancient homes, along the banks of the river." He withdrew sadly from Talan's mind, but not without one last backward glance. "Talan, they name you? In my tongue that would mark you as a dweller in the branches."

He smiled at that, and turned to Aylwen. "Lady, if there are no horses to be found hereabouts, then I must proceed northwards on foot, and all the sooner. For I have need of haste." He bowed, and gestured towards the river. "The garments loaned to me by Lady Bethberry hang upon the banks. Give her my blessing. And now farewell."

And with that, he nodded to each in turn, and with shining eyes and head held high, walked northwards.

Ædegard said, "Wait. No supplies? No food, no blankets, nothing? You are crazy." He hesitated, watching the young blacksmith walk away.

Curtain Fall...
 

"I have seen the lark soar high at morn,
Heard his song up in the blue.
I have heard the blackbird pipe his note,
The thrush and the linnet as well.
But there's none of them can sing so sweet,
As you, my singing bird...

If I could lure my singing bird,
From his own cozy nest,
Oh, if I could catch my singing bird:
I'd keep him near to me.
For there's none of them can sing so sweet,
As you, my singing bird."

Aylwen finished singing the song, sitting by the garden with several little children nestled about her as she picked up her panpipes and began to play the tune again. The children's faces were bright, glad to get away from the sound of the builders hard at work on the other side of the Inn. Aylwen had so much work to do, but she decided that taking time for one little song would not hurt. When she finished the tune, the children clapped and cheered.

"But Aylwen! Aylwen!" one little boy cried from the back of the group. His face was chubby and pink in the rays of the noontime sun and in his hand was a little wilted rose from the garden next to him. Aylwen nodded, so the child would be certain that he had her attention. "The song doesn't rhyme! Songs are supposed to rhyme, miss Aylwen!"

The other children chorused their agreement, and Aylwen smiled with a laugh as their cries died down into hushed and curious silence. Aylwen had her answer... "Songs don't always rhyme, child. Just like life isn't always perfect," Aylwen murmured, realizing the understatement in her words. Yes, life is far from perfect.

Aylwen thought about everything that had happened since she'd come to help at the White Horse Inn, things that were less than perfect. One of the patrons had been robbed at the market, the stable had caught fire and caused the loss of several horses, strange men were wandering the premises haunting workers' dreams, and Bethberry had left with rather short-notice to a destination unknown to Aylwen.

"But," Aylwen continued, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "The point of it all is to find the good in every imperfection...to learn to love it even though it doesn't rhyme. Learning to fall in love with the melody should come before you get the pleasure of a rhyme. Similarly, you must learn to accept life before you are ready to see and understand the beauty of it."

After the thief had been caught, it brought a new helper to the inn and taught the boy that he didn't need to steal to live and that his presence and hard work were sometimes enough from day to day. The stable burned to the ground, yes, but it drew people in the area together and brought strangers and neighbors in to help rebuild. Bethberry left, hopefully to take care of matters more important than the daily life of an Inn and it's people.

"No, life won't always rhyme," Aylwen said to the boy and his companions, sighing. "However, I think we can do without rhyme, so long as there's a melody."

Curtain Closes
 

^ ^ ^ To Elvenhome ^ ^ ^