[littlemanpoet]

They came to the reiver Entwash and forded it under the stars. Beyond it was a grass covered mound, surrounded by fifteen spears. Ædegard slowed his mount. His eyes were wide and he dismounted. The others noticed him and slowing, turned and came back to him.

Liornung said, "What is it, Ædegard?"

"This place is sacred to the Rohirrim. Here there was a small battle between outriders of Rohan and a few companies of orcs, but on it turned the course of the War of the Ring. As it is sung,

"Éomer and his eotheod caught the uruks
outside the eaves of Fangorn forest.
As Master Meriadoc and proud Peregrin
escaped by outwitting the greed of an orc,
Éomer slew the slaves of Saruman.
Fifteen fearless warriors were felled,
resting in the Mound raised by the Entwash.
The humble Holbitla roused the Ents,
the Tree men tore down Saruman's tyrrany.
So Edoras was spared to save her ally.
Brave deaths, that bought our boon.

"So sing the minstrels of Edoras." Ædegard looked up to Amroth. "My thanks for leading me to this place that I might never have seen otherwise."

Amroth smiled and nodded. "Since we have halted, let us make camp here for a few short hours, under the guard of these brave men."

Liornung

Liornung's eyes travelled over the campsite and he nodded in satisfaction. "'Tis a lovely place to camp, and I am amazed at the feel of the very air, which speaks of Éomer and his company even better than the song you have sung, good Ædegard. I do not mean, of course," he added, his voice hasty and confused, "that the song was not worthy of the place."

"I do think you are correct," Ædegard reassured him. "Not all things can be put into song. The song spoke of this place, yet this place is this place."

"That is," Liornung said, "quite right." He picked up his fiddle with a little smile upon his face. "I'm going to sing a happy little song for you. I have sung too much, I fear, of lost loves and faraway loves and longing loves, things that bring woe and sorrow. What about loves that are there and happily content?" And so he picked up a merry tune and began to sing.

Come all you lads and lassies and listen for awhile.
I'll sing to you a verse or two and try to make you smile.
But if instead you weep with grief, do not be ashamed
for others who have heard this song wept, more than can be named.

Fal-la-do-la-do, fal-al-the-day.

There was lad who rode out one fair and pleasant day.
From Rohan and to Gondor he carelessly did stray.
He had no mind for love or any lassies fair
till he met a maid, soft was her smile, dark was her hair.

Fal-la-do-la-do, fal-al-the-day.

"Oh lassie fair of Gondor, do come away with me,
mount your horse and take my hand and come to my country.
I'll give you all you wish for and sweet home
and rover though I am for you I'll cease to roam.

Fal-la-do-la-do, fal-al-the-day.

"Oh lad with the golden hair, truly I love you
but if I went away what would my poor sick father do?"
"Oh take him lassie, take him if you'll come with me.
I'll give you all you ask for, no want will come to ye.

Fal-la-do-la-do, fal-al-the-day.

The lad left and the lassie followed with her father ill.
They built a house and she truly loved him with a will.
I've told you a happy tale of a young rover
and how he won the heart of the fair maid of Gondor.

Fal-la-do-la-do, fal-al-the-day.
Fal-la-do-la-dee-la-fal-do-lay.

As he ended his song he threw back his head and laughed. "Before any of you speak of it, I do know that my songs are often of wandering rovers and their fair maids, but in all truth so seldom am I in one place for a long time that the only romances I know of are those of the road. Yet I do know of a poor peasant lad who married a poor peasant lass he had loved all his life. I will put the tale into verse a sing it for you on the morrow."