Hinura walked a little ways off from the crowd, lost in her own thoughts. She was truly glad that there would be at least two in this company who share her passion for music and for song; it would help the long hours on the road pass by quickly. She studied the sky; though it was still early, it was likely to be a fair, warm day, the only visible wisps of cloud visible high up.
To pass the time while they waited to be underway, the young bard sang softly to herself, remembering a story she had heard early in her travels.
Fonn: Ó a iù nach till thu Dhòmhnaill ?
Ò a hì nach till thu Dhòmhnaill ?
Ó a iù nach till thu Dhòmhnaill ?
Là dhomh 's mi 'siubhal a' mhonaidh
Có thachair rium ach Dòmhnall
Thòisich sinn air beadradh spòrsail
Thànaig am beadradh dhuinn gu dòruinn
Bhagair e mo léin' a shròiceadh
Chuir e falt mo chinn fo bhrògan
Thug e sgian bheag às a phòcaid
Cha b'e siod a gheall thu Dhòmhnaill
Ach réiteach agus banais 's pòsadh.
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