[Nurumaiel]

"Uncle..."

Liornung looked down at this niece with a smile. She had a puzzled look on her face, a look of bewilderment and confusion. She did not return his look but merely stared at the ground as they moved towards the Inn. "Uncle, Jesia spoke as though you had missed something very great. She spoke of you losing a chance and learning a lesson. What does that mean?"

"Apparently she thought I was very foolish about the bracelet," he said. For a moment Maercwen thought he was not going to say anything further, but after a brief pause he continued. "I lost that chance, she says. I lost nothing, but gained much. The only thing I did not reach out and take, as she puts it, was the bracelet. I took more wisdom, however. Mae, everyone seems to consider me the foolish bard who doesn't know anything about the War. I... I'd beg to tell the truth now. I say I didn't fight but I do not mean it except in a sense."

Maercwen's eyes widened and her breath quickened. "I keep much of my past hidden from young and old people," he continued. "Indeed, I believe it's only your mother and father who know. But I tell you because this bracelet has a very valuable lesson to teach... not about luck and confidence or any other such thing, but something I can hardly explain. So I'll tell you... I can understand Hearpwine's longing to be Bard of the King. For a brief time I was also Bard of the King... to our dear King Theoden."

Maercwen stopped abruptly, but said nothing. Her eyes clearly showed what she was thinking. She could not believe what he was saying.

"I say a brief time for it was no more than a year. Troubles came then and I left him, though I did not desire to. I returned one day and found he was not right. I could not grasp what was wrong with him. It did not seem like illness, yet it did. And then, to speak very briefly for you will learn this in your history books if they speak at all of King Theoden, an old man came and spoke to him. And he was King again." He paused and looked off into the sky, remembering things long past. "This old man I heard called 'Gandalf.' He was not unkind to me. I was like young Hearpwine... very confident of myself and assured of my talent, for light and carefree. I was still a boy, like he is now. I think I amused this Gandalf somewhat with my ceaseless songs and my fiddle. And then one time... I recall not when it was, whether it was before or after the great battle of Pelennor, where our beloved King fell... It has left my memory when, for the words he spoke to me have banished thoughts of all else on that occasion. But he was there. Gandalf was there, and I was nearby, singing a silly little song which was centered around the luck of one man. When I finished I looked at him. I always sought the approval of those who seemed high and mighty. And he spoke to me. 'Your voice rings true, as do the strings of your fiddle,' said he, 'but I wonder whether the words of your song are true? Do you really believe in chance, or luck as you put it? Do you really believe it was chance that brought the minstrel of Gondor to your doorstep, the stone that started the avalanche of your journeys? Do you really believe it was chance that made you Bard of the King? Do you believe it was luck? Or do you believe there was a purpose for it all, that it was planned, that a one inspired the Gondorian minstrel to travel to Rohan so he would meet you and your life might go as it has thus far?' I did not know what to say. A glimmer of wisdom shone upon me. 'Think upon it,' he said, and no more. I was quite an expert at judging the moods of men even then, and I could tell he was recalling the past. It was not the first time he had spoken thus to one. I never saw him again after that.

"You see, Mae, I believe what he spoke was true. Chance? How could chance ever chance so much, in such an orderly way? Do you realize that if this foolish 'chance' did not come Hearpwine would not stand before the King today? Recall that it was I who moved him to be a bard when I went to his estate one day. Think of all the things that have happened just because one minstrel came to my door. Think of how orderly it all is. Luck? I scorn how ridiculous it is. The old man was right. It was planned. By whom? I know not. But it was planned, and luck and chance are mere nothings that do not exist. Now you, little one, think upon the words of the old man and see if he was not right." He fell silent, and Mae fell into thought. She did not want to consider what the old man had said. It was too frightening to think someone was planning everything that happened to her uncle... and to her. But she considered her uncle's past... he had fought in the War after all, and he had once been Bard of the King.