Celumëomaryu blinked at Anna. The overweening, ridiculous girl wanted to compete with her ? What right had she? What foolishness had induced her to compete with an Elf in a matter of song?
But there she stood, nevertheless.
Celumëomaryu closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her strength. It had been long and long since she had sung. She was a secretary, not a bard, and her work had been done in silence, and the silence had deepened since her death. She had avoided thinking of meanings since coming to a place where the Atani lived; the nearness of their death had seemed to render unnecessary any songs of hers. What understandings could ever come to these short-lived people? What could she reach for, lost among so many of their kind? She'd always thought Maladil a fool.
She gave a soft, bitter laugh at the irony of it.
So long, so long, but her memory held a song or two still, a song or two of silence. She did not move, but she opened her eyes and sang, softly at first.
Where in the deep night sky
The stars lie in its embrace
The courtyard still in its sleep
And peace comes over her face.
She did remember. Her voice grew stronger, and Anna took a sudden and involuntary step away from the strange and brilliant light in the Elf's eyes.
"Come to me," it sings
"Hear the pulse of the land
The ocean's rhythms pull
To hold your heart in its hand."
And when the wind draws strong
Across the cypress trees
The nightbirds cease their songs
So gathers memories.
Last night you spoke of a dream
Where forests stretched to the east
And each bird sang its song
A swan joined in a feast
And in a corner stood
A pomegranate tree
With wild flowers there
No mortal eye could see
Yet still some mystery befalls
Sure as the cock crows at morn
The world in stillness keeps
The secret of babes to be born
She arched her eyebrow at Anna, mimicking the gesture that the girl had made so many times at her.
She heard an old voice say
"Don't go far from the land
The seasons have their way
No mortal can understand."
The last note faded slowly from her voice.
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"I hate dignity," cried Scraps, kicking a pebble high in the air and then trying to catch it as it fell. "Half the fools and all the wise folks are dignified, and I'm neither the one nor the other." --L. Frank Baum
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