"I'm not very good at telling tales, " LinGalad apologised, modestly.
Kalir blinked. "No?" he said, disappointed.
"He sings them," whispered Endereth to Kalir, and then returned to Calen, Mattius and Radagast's conversation.
Kalir blinked. "Ah. Well, LinGalad, could you sing something for us?"
LinGalad, rather pleased at the turn of events, nodded and considered the tabletop for a moment. "Well, it's hardly news, and it's rather brief, but you might enjoy this, and somehow it seems rather appropriate, although I'm not sure why..." After a sip of his drink, he very softly began the song of the Ents and Entwives.
When Spring unfolds the beechen leaf, and
sap is in the bough;
When light is on the wild-wood stream,
and wind is on the brow;
When stride is long, and breath is deep, and
keen the mountain-air,
Come back to me! Come back to me! and
say my land is fair!...
Although he sang quite softly, the noise around them began to steadily die down, table by table, as folk listened. The song was over after a handful of verses. But when it was done, nobody was arguing anymore, or angry or even tense. Ajada had put her pen down, and was looking rather thoughtful. And Radagast was wearing the beginnings of a smile.
[ May 13, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]
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...down to the water to see the elves dance and sing upon the midsummer's eve.
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