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piosenniel · 08-01-2003, 03:09 AM

Gilly had put the babies to bed, and now she came dragging out to the front room where Bird and Mithadan sat, a bottle of wine, half-full on the small table between their chairs. She yawned leaning against the back of one of the empty chairs. The window was opened, the curtains drawn back, and the light from the small lamp on the table threw its flickering light out into the dark night beyond the window’s frame.

‘I’m going to bed, and you should, too,’ she told them. ‘Tomorrow is to be the naming day for the twins. Though why we have to hurry it so after all these days is beyond me.’ Bird and Mithadan looked at one another and said nothing – only bid her goodnight with their glasses raised to her, then fell to talking when she had left the room, their voices low.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Pio drew her cloak about her as she stepped from the porch, gathering it tightly about her as proof against the late night’s breeze. In like manner she drew her thoughts about her, leaving no room for the prying minds of others. Less than two weeks ago her feet had taken this same path. Heavy with child then, she had sought escape from cares and concerns and gone walking beneath the fat, yellowed summer’s moon. Past The Pool and up the unnamed stream that emptied into it from the north. The moon had been full then lighting her way; now it was down to a mere quarter, and the shadows of the trees that stood along the way seemed thicker and pressed in on her.

He was there, again. Singing this time. Some singsongy tune threading thinly out into the darkness. She paused looking out at the great flat rock that sat in the midst of the rushing stream, and there at the northern tip of the rocky platform he sat as before, his legs dangling down into the foaming waters that crashed against the low promontory. For a moment it seemed his body grew less substantial and a light shone from within him. Then the image fell back in upon itself, and he became an old man dressed in grey robes pulled up above his knobby knees.

Come! he called to her. I’ve learned a delightful song since you’ve been gone.

“There is an inn, a merry old inn
Beneath an old grey hill,
And there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
One night to drink his fill.”

Pio took her place beside him on the rock, and listened as he sang the many verses of the song, his clear voice hitting each note exactly. She could tell he enjoyed the pictures the song conjured up, and she thought she caught a hint of laughter when he sang of the Man in the Moon getting tipsy.

“The Man in the Moon took another mug,
And then rolled beneath his chair;
And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,
Till in the sky the stars were pale,
And dawn was in the air.”

The end of the song faded out at last and blended into the rushing sounds of the river. Lorien hummed quietly to himself for a few more moments as Pio sat in silence.

What have you come for, Piosenniel? he asked her finally. To ask a favor of me you know I cannot grant?

It was in my mind to do so, Lord Irmo. She acknowledged her want in an indifferent manner, as if she had given much consideration to it and found it untenable.

An what is in your mind now?

Only to say thank you for the aid you gave us. She drew her knees up under her chin and clasped her arms around her legs. The children are safe, and back with their families. You had a part in it. She looked him full in the face. Thank you.

Nothing else, Piosenniel?

Naught that you will grant me.

She stood, her face carefully neutral. Tears of frustration, tears of sadness, shone in her eyes. She wiped them away. She would spend no more tears or anger on this futile hope.

Her feet had just crossed back on the stepping stones from the rock to the stream’s bank when he spoke to her again. I forgot to sing you the very last verse.

She listened numbly to him, her feet leaden.

“The round Moon rolled behind the hill,
As the Sun raised up her head.
She hardly believed her fiery eyes;
For though it was day, to her surprise
They all went back to bed.”

She left him to the reprise of his song, turning her weary steps back toward the Inn.

[ August 01, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

08-01-2003, 03:09 AM	#38
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Gilly had put the babies to bed, and now she came dragging out to the front room where Bird and Mithadan sat, a bottle of wine, half-full on the small table between their chairs. She yawned leaning against the back of one of the empty chairs. The window was opened, the curtains drawn back, and the light from the small lamp on the table threw its flickering light out into the dark night beyond the window’s frame. ‘I’m going to bed, and you should, too,’ she told them. ‘Tomorrow is to be the naming day for the twins. Though why we have to hurry it so after all these days is beyond me.’ Bird and Mithadan looked at one another and said nothing – only bid her goodnight with their glasses raised to her, then fell to talking when she had left the room, their voices low. ~~~~~~~~ Pio drew her cloak about her as she stepped from the porch, gathering it tightly about her as proof against the late night’s breeze. In like manner she drew her thoughts about her, leaving no room for the prying minds of others. Less than two weeks ago her feet had taken this same path. Heavy with child then, she had sought escape from cares and concerns and gone walking beneath the fat, yellowed summer’s moon. Past The Pool and up the unnamed stream that emptied into it from the north. The moon had been full then lighting her way; now it was down to a mere quarter, and the shadows of the trees that stood along the way seemed thicker and pressed in on her. He was there, again. Singing this time. Some singsongy tune threading thinly out into the darkness. She paused looking out at the great flat rock that sat in the midst of the rushing stream, and there at the northern tip of the rocky platform he sat as before, his legs dangling down into the foaming waters that crashed against the low promontory. For a moment it seemed his body grew less substantial and a light shone from within him. Then the image fell back in upon itself, and he became an old man dressed in grey robes pulled up above his knobby knees. Come!* he called to her. I’ve learned a delightful song since you’ve been gone. “There is an inn, a merry old inn Beneath an old grey hill, And there they brew a beer so brown That the Man in the Moon himself came down One night to drink his fill.” Pio took her place beside him on the rock, and listened as he sang the many verses of the song, his clear voice hitting each note exactly. She could tell he enjoyed the pictures the song conjured up, and she thought she caught a hint of laughter when he sang of the Man in the Moon getting tipsy. “The Man in the Moon took another mug, And then rolled beneath his chair; And there he dozed and dreamed of ale, Till in the sky the stars were pale, And dawn was in the air.” The end of the song faded out at last and blended into the rushing sounds of the river. Lorien hummed quietly to himself for a few more moments as Pio sat in silence. What have you come for, Piosenniel? he asked her finally. To ask a favor of me you know I cannot grant? It was in my mind to do so, Lord Irmo. She acknowledged her want in an indifferent manner, as if she had given much consideration to it and found it untenable. An what is in your mind now? Only to say thank you for the aid you gave us. She drew her knees up under her chin and clasped her arms around her legs. The children are safe, and back with their families. You had a part in it. She looked him full in the face. Thank you. Nothing else, Piosenniel? Naught that you will grant me. She stood, her face carefully neutral. Tears of frustration, tears of sadness, shone in her eyes. She wiped them away. She would spend no more tears or anger on this futile hope. Her feet had just crossed back on the stepping stones from the rock to the stream’s bank when he spoke to her again. I forgot to sing you the very last verse. She listened numbly to him, her feet leaden. “The round Moon rolled behind the hill, As the Sun raised up her head. She hardly believed her fiery eyes; For though it was day, to her surprise They all went back to bed.” She left him to the reprise of his song, turning her weary steps back toward the Inn. [ August 01, 2003: 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.