The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post

Aylwen Dreamsong · 03-04-2004, 06:37 PM

"I have seen the lark soar high at morn,
Heard his song up in the blue.
I have heard the blackbird pipe his note,
The thrush and the linnet as well.
But there's none of them can sing so sweet,
As you, my singing bird...

If I could lure my singing bird,
From his own cozy nest,
Oh, if I could catch my singing bird:
I'd keep him near to me.
For there's none of them can sing so sweet,
As you, my singing bird."

Aylwen finished singing the song, sitting by the garden with several little children nestled about her as she picked up her panpipes and began to play the tune again. The children's faces were bright, glad to get away from the sound of the builders hard at work on the other side of the Inn. Aylwen had so much work to do, but she decided that taking time for one little song would not hurt. When she finished the tune, the children clapped and cheered.

"But Aylwen! Aylwen!" one little boy cried from the back of the group. His face was chubby and pink in the rays of the noontime sun and in his hand was a little wilted rose from the garden next to him. Aylwen nodded, so the child would be certain that he had her attention. "The song doesn't rhyme! Songs are supposed to rhyme, miss Aylwen!"

The other children chorused their agreement, and Aylwen smiled with a laugh as their cries died down into hushed and curious silence. Aylwen had her answer... "Songs don't always rhyme, child. Just like life isn't always perfect," Aylwen murmured, realizing the understatement in her words. Yes, life is far from perfect.

Aylwen thought about everything that had happened since she'd come to help at the White Horse Inn, things that were less than perfect. One of the patrons had been robbed at the market, the stable had caught fire and caused the loss of several horses, strange men were wandering the premises haunting workers' dreams, and Bethberry had left with rather short-notice to a destination unknown to Aylwen.

"But," Aylwen continued, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "The point of it all is to find the good in every imperfection...to learn to love it even though it doesn't rhyme. Learning to fall in love with the melody should come before you get the pleasure of a rhyme. Similarly, you must learn to accept life before you are ready to see and understand the beauty of it."

After the thief had been caught, it brought a new helper to the inn and taught the boy that he didn't need to steal to live and that his presence and hard work were sometimes enough from day to day. The stable burned to the ground, yes, but it drew people in the area together and brought strangers and neighbors in to help rebuild. Bethberry left, hopefully to take care of matters more important than the daily life of an Inn and it's people.

"No, life won't always rhyme," Aylwen said to the boy and his companions, sighing. "However, I think we can do without rhyme, so long as there's a melody."

03-04-2004, 06:37 PM	#323
Aylwen Dreamsong The Melody of Misery Join Date: Aug 2002 Location: The Island of Conclusions (You get there by jumping!)... Posts: 1,147	Curtain Fall... "I have seen the lark soar high at morn, Heard his song up in the blue. I have heard the blackbird pipe his note, The thrush and the linnet as well. But there's none of them can sing so sweet, As you, my singing bird... If I could lure my singing bird, From his own cozy nest, Oh, if I could catch my singing bird: I'd keep him near to me. For there's none of them can sing so sweet, As you, my singing bird." Aylwen finished singing the song, sitting by the garden with several little children nestled about her as she picked up her panpipes and began to play the tune again. The children's faces were bright, glad to get away from the sound of the builders hard at work on the other side of the Inn. Aylwen had so much work to do, but she decided that taking time for one little song would not hurt. When she finished the tune, the children clapped and cheered. "But Aylwen! Aylwen!" one little boy cried from the back of the group. His face was chubby and pink in the rays of the noontime sun and in his hand was a little wilted rose from the garden next to him. Aylwen nodded, so the child would be certain that he had her attention. "The song doesn't rhyme! Songs are supposed to rhyme, miss Aylwen!" The other children chorused their agreement, and Aylwen smiled with a laugh as their cries died down into hushed and curious silence. Aylwen had her answer... "Songs don't always rhyme, child. Just like life isn't always perfect," Aylwen murmured, realizing the understatement in her words. Yes, life is far from perfect. Aylwen thought about everything that had happened since she'd come to help at the White Horse Inn, things that were less than perfect. One of the patrons had been robbed at the market, the stable had caught fire and caused the loss of several horses, strange men were wandering the premises haunting workers' dreams, and Bethberry had left with rather short-notice to a destination unknown to Aylwen. "But," Aylwen continued, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "The point of it all is to find the good in every imperfection...to learn to love it even though it doesn't rhyme. Learning to fall in love with the melody should come before you get the pleasure of a rhyme. Similarly, you must learn to accept life before you are ready to see and understand the beauty of it." After the thief had been caught, it brought a new helper to the inn and taught the boy that he didn't need to steal to live and that his presence and hard work were sometimes enough from day to day. The stable burned to the ground, yes, but it drew people in the area together and brought strangers and neighbors in to help rebuild. Bethberry left, hopefully to take care of matters more important than the daily life of an Inn and it's people. "No, life won't always rhyme," Aylwen said to the boy and his companions, sighing. "However, I think we can do without rhyme, so long as there's a melody."