[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Hearpwine knew he was being hustled out of the kitchen by Cook’s assistants, but he did not mind, for the sandwiches they were using as bait looked exceedingly good. He had heard about the Halfling’s love of food, and was pleased to see that their reputation for hearty fare – and plenty of it – was well deserved. Rather than going into the Common Room he stepped outside, hoping to get a breath of fresh air. He had been so long on the Road that to remain indoors was still unnatural. He stepped out into the sun and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He smiled, and opened his eyes again, casting about for a place to sit with his provender.

His attention was called to a small group of people beneath a tree, seemingly caught up in some drama and for a moment he thought of finding out what was wrong, but then the fair Innkeeper emerged from the Dragon and seemed to take charge. He allowed himself to watch her for a moment, for a pretty face always was pleasing to him, and it was particularly pleasant to see one of his countrywomen again. His mind wandered back to the previous night and to what he had heard his odd roommate saying in his sleep about the girl – he had not been able to make all of it out, but it seemed that they were related in some way. That this mere slip of a girl from Rohan was related to a Man of Gondor would bear some looking into…there might even be a song in it.

Turning about once more he saw an Elven woman sitting alone beneath another tree and without a moment’s hesitation the Bard moved toward her. “Elen sila lumen omentielvo” he greeted her, bowing low over his plate. The Elf looked at him with mild surprise at his facility with the greeting. Dipping her own head slightly she returned it, then adding in the Common Tongue, “Well met, sir, it is rare that a mortal should speak in the High tongue in so comely a fashion.”

Hearpwine smiled. “I speak little of it, so I try to make up for the limitations of my vocabulary with careful pronunciation.”

“And who has been your tutor?”

“I dwelt for a time in the land of Ithilien, where many of the Fair Folk came to heal its wounds after the War. There I would spend many hours with the Elves who cared for my company, desiring to learn of them whatever songs they might be willing to teach me. For I am a bard of Rohan, the Bard of Rohan now, and I am always looking for new songs with which to amuse my King. I am Hearpwine son of Æthelstan, and I would account it a great honour if you might allow me to take my meal with you so that we might speak of the lands and songs you know, which I do not.”

The Elf smiled and nodded her head, indicating that Hearpwine might sit by her. “I am called Mithalwen,” she explained as Hearpwine tucked into his meal. “I am an artisan myself, although I make objects of use and beauty not songs. Have you learned many songs of the Elves?”

Hearpwine grinned and set aside his plate, seizing upon even this slender excuse to perform. Drawing forth his harp he explained, “I cannot do it justice, Lady, but as it happens I have had one song upon my mind these last weeks and I would fain give it voice! It is like all the songs of the Eldar, both sad and joyful, and there was a time when I thought it fit only for high occasions, but experience has taught me that a fair song deserves to be sung whenever the spirit of it moves you, and seeing you here beneath this tree, so fair and alone…it reminded me of the one who taught me the tune.” He ended there, as though he were loath to speak more. This was his song:

Ai! laurië lantar lassi súrinen,
Yéni únótimë ve rámar aldaron!
yéni ve lintë yuldar avánier
mi oromardi lisse-miruvóreva,
Andúnë pella, Vardo tellumar
nu luini yassen tintilar i eleni
ómaryo airetári-lírinen.

Sí man i yulma nin enquantuva?

An sí Tintallë Varda Oiolossëo
ve fanyar máryat Elentári ortanë,
ar ilyë tier undulávë lumbulë;
ar sindanóriello caita mornië
i falmalinnar imbe met, ar hísië
untúpa Calaciryo míri oialë.
Sí vanwa ná, Rómello vanwa, Valimar!

Namárië! Nai hiruvalyë Valimar.
Nai elyë hiruva. Namárië!

As he finished he drooped his head upon his chest and fell into silence. His food remained untouched by his hand.