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#33 |
Desultory Dwimmerlaik
Join Date: Mar 2002
Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat.....
Posts: 7,779
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“What a wordsmith the Old Fellow was! And a true inspiration for those who have come after…” The rest of Pio’s acclaim was cut off as a long drawn out wail which rose and fell like the cry of some dark and lonely creature cut a discordant swathe through the room. Brows raised, she eyed the fellow as he spun and sang. “Have mercy!” she swore aloud. “Not bad . . . not bad . . . as far as lyrics go, I’ll give him that.” She watched as the fellow, now done with song, began to express himself with his sword. Drawing a knife from each boot top, she placed them close at hand on the table.
Pio raised her half-empty mug in the direction of the whirling singer, a friendly gesture. And one to say she was keeping her eye on him. Taking a small sip, she raised it once again, high in the air. “And here’s to Himself, The Barrow-Wight, for making such a delightful place for us misbegotten wanderers to tarry awhile in…” She drained the last of her drink and set the mug upside down on the table. “Arry, you know this one, I think.” She hummed low, a few bars of an old story-song. Arry strummed a mix of chords, fitting them to the rhythm of her singing. Pio nodded her head and winked a smile at him. “And you, ‘Vin,’ she went on, thumping her fingers lightly on the table’s wooden top in a soft, measured rhythm, motioning him to follow along. “Keep the beat for me . . . if you will.” Pio listened as her two friends wove a light melody. “Now this is a long-ago song from times when magics were carried on the winds.” She smiled a little to herself. “It brings fond memories of times of my own…” I know a window in a western tower That opens on celestial seas, And wind that has been blowing round the stars Comes to nestle in its tossing draperies. It is a white tower builded in the Twilight Isles, Where Evening sits for ever in the shade; It glimmers like a spike of lonely pearl That mirrors beams forlorn and lights that fade; And sea goes washing round the dark rock whereit stands, And fairy boats go by to gloaming lands All piled and twinkling in the gloom With hoarded sparks of orient fire That divers won in waters of the unknown Sun - And, maybe, 'tis a throbbing silver lyre, Or voices of grey sailors echo up A float among the shadows of the world In oarless shallop and with canvas furled; For often seems there ring of feet and song, Or the twilit twinkle of a trembling gong. O! happy mariners upon a journey long To those great portals on the Western shores Where far away constellate fountains leap, And dashed against Night's dragon-headed doors In foam of stars fall sparkling in the deep. While I alone look out behind the Moon. From in my white and windy tower, Ye bide no moment and await no hour, But chanting snatches of a mystic tune Go through the shadows and the dangerous seas Past sunless lands to fairy leas Where stars upon the jacinth wall of space Do tangle burst and interlace. Ye follow Earendel through the West, The shining mariner, to Islands blest; While only from beyond that sombre rim A wind returns to stir these crystal panes And murmur magically of golden rains That fall for ever in those spaces dim. The last echoes of voice, and strum, and wooded beats fell away into the Great Hall’s environs. “Well, done my friends!!” Pio nodded her head, smiling widely at her two companions. “Now, what do you say for another round of the ‘Downs finest? That was a rather longish song-poem – and my throat is parched!!!” -------------------------------------------------- “Tha Eadigan Saelidan: The Happy Mariners” ----- from the Old Fellow: J. R. R. Tolkien - The Book of Lost Tales Part Two
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Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside. |
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