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piosenniel · 12-31-2002, 05:14 AM

'Well,' said Bird, 'looks like Olo's dinner guest won't be making an appearance.' She picked up the extra bowl by the pot of stew and ladled herself out a generous helping, making sure that she fished out all the pieces of mushrooms she could find.

Holly watched her friend, as she finished the bowl and licked the last bit of gravy from her fingers. 'Guess the grub hunting wasn't very good today, eh?' the Hobbit looked at the slight, slender woman and scratched her head wondering where all those extra helpings went to. ‘Must use a lot of energy changing shapes!’ she thought to herself.

Olo and Holly both sat at ease before the small cooking fire, each content with a pipeful of Southern Star. Volondil had shared supper with them, and lay close to the fire on a blanket, watching the sparks fly up into the gathering evening dusk.

Bird finished her stew, sighing loudly at the bottom of the empty bowl, and was now busy searching through Holly's food bag, looking for dessert. Olo raised his brows at Holly, who simply laughed and called out to her friend, 'Help yourself, Bird!'

'That I will!' She rooted about in the pack a moment longer, muttering to herself, 'I was sure she packed some dried fruits in here. Now where are they?'

'The other pack, Bird. The one near Peri's food.' said Holly, laughing. She pointed with her pipe stem toward the small bag perched on the log by Peri's feed bag. Content, now that she had found something to satisfy her sweet tooth, Bird sat down on the ground between the Hobbits. In her hands were the three metal rods Gandalf had given Holly earlier.

'What are these for?' she asked, waving them over the tips of the flames. Holly grabbed them quickly from her hand and laid them well to the side of the fire. 'Those are something Gandalf gave us. I have no idea what we are going to be doing with them. Shrugging her shoulders, she looked at her friend. 'But, you know the wizard's reputation for fireworks - best you not wave those things around the flames.'

Bird’s mouth formed a small ‘O’, and she pulled her knees up under her chin, clasping her arms about them. Never one to sit still long, except when in Ent form, her right hand soon strayed to a stick by the fire, and she began to beat a soft tattoo on the stew pot which stood just outside the fire pit. Soon a hum escaped her, and then words, as she began an old song.

There were three gypsies a come to my door,
And downstairs ran this lady, O!
One sang high and another sang low,
And the other sang bonny, bonny, Biscay, O!

Holly picked up the next verse, beating the rhythm on her thighs with the flat of her hands

Then she pulled off her silk finished gown
And put on hose of leather, O!
The ragged, ragged, rags about our door,
She's gone with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O!

And both sang then of the bewildered husband who’d come home to find his lady gone.

It was late last night, when my lord came home,
Enquiring for his a-lady, O!
The servants said, on every hand,
She's gone with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O!

O saddle to me my milk-white steed,
Go and fetch me my pony, O!
That I may ride and seek my bride,
Who is gone with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O!

O he rode high and he rode low,
He rode through woods and copses too,
Until he came to an open field,
And there he espied his a-lady, O!

‘Let me sing the Lord’s part now’ said Bird, a merry gleam in her eye.

What makes you leave your house and land?
What makes you leave your money, O?
What makes you leave your new wedded lord?
To go with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O!

‘And I shall be the Lady gone to the gypsies, I suppose.’ laughed Holly

What care I for my house and my land?
What care I for my money, O?
What care I for my new wedded lord?
I'm off with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O!

The last two verse they sang together, Bird’s sweet, piping harmony wove closely about the clear strong melody from Holly.

Last night you slept on a goose-feather bed,
With the sheet turned down so bravely, O!
And to-night you'll sleep in a cold open field,
Along with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O!

What care I for a goose-feather bed?
With the sheet turned down so bravely, O!
For to-night I shall sleep in a cold open field,
Along with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O!

‘Haven’t sung that one for a long time, have we, Holly” mused Bird, as she poked at the fire with her stick. ‘Good song! Though were I the Lady of it, I would have taken some of my Lord’s gold with me. The wandering life’s not all that romantic when you’re pounding down the road with a hole in your shoe, an empty belly, and a flat purse.’

Holly nodded her head at the statement. ‘True. But still there’s a certain irresistible pull to the open road that’s hard to deny.’ She poked her friend in the arm, giving her an impish wink. ‘You must admit that if one is clever enough and keeps her wits about her, there’s always an opportunity that presents itself to rectify the problem of meager monies.’

‘I’ll give you that.’ said Bird yawning. ‘Speaking of which, when do we reach the castle?’ Holly shrugged, saying Bird’s guess was as good as hers. They sat for a long while, round the fire, watching the glowing coals hiss and pop. Bird’s hand wandered once again to the metal rods that lay to the side of the fire pit, and she held one up, staring at it.

‘You sure we can’t try even one? It would be fun!’ She waved it slowly in front of Holly’s face, like a snake mesmerizing its intended victim. The Hobbit’s hand darted out quickly and snatched it from her, then secured all three of them within her grip.

‘No, Bird! Not even one!’

‘Killjoy!’ squawked the jackdaw now standing next to Holly. Hopping from foot to foot in an agitated manner, the small black and white bird launched herself upward, flying to a nearby beech. She perched on one of the lower branches, ruffling her feathers a bit, and then smoothed them out again. Tucking her head beneath her wing she settled in for sleep.

‘Good night, Bird!’ called Holly. She tapped her pipe on the rock before her and thumped the burnt pipe weed from its bowl. Refilling it, she settled back for one last smoke. There was much to think about. She exhaled slowly, watching the smoke rise upward as it streamed over the dying fire.

*******************************************
Child Ballad, #200

[ December 31, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

12-31-2002, 05:14 AM	#215
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	'Well,' said Bird, 'looks like Olo's dinner guest won't be making an appearance.' She picked up the extra bowl by the pot of stew and ladled herself out a generous helping, making sure that she fished out all the pieces of mushrooms she could find. Holly watched her friend, as she finished the bowl and licked the last bit of gravy from her fingers. 'Guess the grub hunting wasn't very good today, eh?' the Hobbit looked at the slight, slender woman and scratched her head wondering where all those extra helpings went to. ‘Must use a lot of energy changing shapes!’ she thought to herself. Olo and Holly both sat at ease before the small cooking fire, each content with a pipeful of Southern Star. Volondil had shared supper with them, and lay close to the fire on a blanket, watching the sparks fly up into the gathering evening dusk. Bird finished her stew, sighing loudly at the bottom of the empty bowl, and was now busy searching through Holly's food bag, looking for dessert. Olo raised his brows at Holly, who simply laughed and called out to her friend, 'Help yourself, Bird!' 'That I will!' She rooted about in the pack a moment longer, muttering to herself, 'I was sure she packed some dried fruits in here. Now where are they?' 'The other pack, Bird. The one near Peri's food.' said Holly, laughing. She pointed with her pipe stem toward the small bag perched on the log by Peri's feed bag. Content, now that she had found something to satisfy her sweet tooth, Bird sat down on the ground between the Hobbits. In her hands were the three metal rods Gandalf had given Holly earlier. 'What are these for?' she asked, waving them over the tips of the flames. Holly grabbed them quickly from her hand and laid them well to the side of the fire. 'Those are something Gandalf gave us. I have no idea what we are going to be doing with them. Shrugging her shoulders, she looked at her friend. 'But, you know the wizard's reputation for fireworks - best you not wave those things around the flames.' Bird’s mouth formed a small ‘O’, and she pulled her knees up under her chin, clasping her arms about them. Never one to sit still long, except when in Ent form, her right hand soon strayed to a stick by the fire, and she began to beat a soft tattoo on the stew pot which stood just outside the fire pit. Soon a hum escaped her, and then words, as she began an old song. There were three gypsies a come to my door, And downstairs ran this lady, O! One sang high and another sang low, And the other sang bonny, bonny, Biscay, O! Holly picked up the next verse, beating the rhythm on her thighs with the flat of her hands Then she pulled off her silk finished gown And put on hose of leather, O! The ragged, ragged, rags about our door, She's gone with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O! And both sang then of the bewildered husband who’d come home to find his lady gone. It was late last night, when my lord came home, Enquiring for his a-lady, O! The servants said, on every hand, She's gone with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O! O saddle to me my milk-white steed, Go and fetch me my pony, O! That I may ride and seek my bride, Who is gone with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O! O he rode high and he rode low, He rode through woods and copses too, Until he came to an open field, And there he espied his a-lady, O! ‘Let me sing the Lord’s part now’ said Bird, a merry gleam in her eye. What makes you leave your house and land? What makes you leave your money, O? What makes you leave your new wedded lord? To go with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O! ‘And I shall be the Lady gone to the gypsies, I suppose.’ laughed Holly What care I for my house and my land? What care I for my money, O? What care I for my new wedded lord? I'm off with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O! The last two verse they sang together, Bird’s sweet, piping harmony wove closely about the clear strong melody from Holly. Last night you slept on a goose-feather bed, With the sheet turned down so bravely, O! And to-night you'll sleep in a cold open field, Along with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O! What care I for a goose-feather bed? With the sheet turned down so bravely, O! For to-night I shall sleep in a cold open field, Along with the wraggle taggle gypsies, O! ‘Haven’t sung that one for a long time, have we, Holly” mused Bird, as she poked at the fire with her stick. ‘Good song! Though were I the Lady of it, I would have taken some of my Lord’s gold with me. The wandering life’s not all that romantic when you’re pounding down the road with a hole in your shoe, an empty belly, and a flat purse.’ Holly nodded her head at the statement. ‘True. But still there’s a certain irresistible pull to the open road that’s hard to deny.’ She poked her friend in the arm, giving her an impish wink. ‘You must admit that if one is clever enough and keeps her wits about her, there’s always an opportunity that presents itself to rectify the problem of meager monies.’ ‘I’ll give you that.’ said Bird yawning. ‘Speaking of which, when do we reach the castle?’ Holly shrugged, saying Bird’s guess was as good as hers. They sat for a long while, round the fire, watching the glowing coals hiss and pop. Bird’s hand wandered once again to the metal rods that lay to the side of the fire pit, and she held one up, staring at it. ‘You sure we can’t try even one? It would be fun!’ She waved it slowly in front of Holly’s face, like a snake mesmerizing its intended victim. The Hobbit’s hand darted out quickly and snatched it from her, then secured all three of them within her grip. ‘No, Bird! Not even one!’ ‘Killjoy!’ squawked the jackdaw now standing next to Holly. Hopping from foot to foot in an agitated manner, the small black and white bird launched herself upward, flying to a nearby beech. She perched on one of the lower branches, ruffling her feathers a bit, and then smoothed them out again. Tucking her head beneath her wing she settled in for sleep. ‘Good night, Bird!’ called Holly. She tapped her pipe on the rock before her and thumped the burnt pipe weed from its bowl. Refilling it, she settled back for one last smoke. There was much to think about. She exhaled slowly, watching the smoke rise upward as it streamed over the dying fire. ******************************************* Child Ballad, #200 [ December 31, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ] __________________ Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.