The Vineyard Tavern

[Nurumaiel]

Eacwen had been momentarily confused when Andhun had limped off, but after little time of reflection she realized what had happened and laughed at her own confusion. Standing up, she skipped lightly to the door, humming a little tune, her eyes dancing and full of pleasure as if some delightful thought were in her mind. She stood just outside the door, and she glanced here and there to assure herself no one was about, and then she spun in a circle, nearly losing her balance. Oh, how much like a little girl she felt this fine day!

The sound of singing reached her ears from the stable, and the voice was soft and lovely, the sweet angelic tones obviously that of a young boy's. Intrigued she daintily crossed the grounds and went to the stable door. She hesitated to open it, for fear of disturbing the singer, and she after a brief investigation of the door she found a little crack in the wood that would be just suitable for peering through. She got down on her hands and knees and squinted on eye so she could see through. The sight she saw was precious.

A man, more than likely the stablemaster, was holding a drowsy-looking little girl in his arms, and Andhun was stroking her back and singing to her. There were the stains of angry tears upon the girl's face, but now she was calm and quiet and looked peaceful. As Andhun finished, she said, 'Again,' and he began once more. It seemed likely the girl would be asleep before he finished the next round, but her eyes were still open at the end, though just barely. Andhun had wearied of standing so long on his sore legs, so he cautiously sat himself down on the ground and put his back against a stall door. The girl opened her eyes slightly. 'Again,' she mumbled, and she closed her eyes again. A few moments passed, and then her eyes opened widely and she said, 'Again!' She twisted in her father's arms and saw Andhun sitting on the floor. 'Again?' she questioned.

'I'm sorry,' said Andhun, 'but I became very tired.' The girl studied him for a moment, then struggled to free herself from her father's arms. He hesitated slightly, wondering if she were intending to run for the lake or some other such madness now that her distraction was gone, but then he released her. She went to Andhun and patted his back, and then promptly sat down in his lap, saying, 'Again.'

Andhun laughed softly, and she giggled too, and then he began stroking her back and singing again.

[Ealasaide]

Rochadan breathed a sigh of relief as Sallie settled herself into Andhun's lap and the boy began another cycle of his mother's lullaby. He watched affectionately as she slid her thumb back into her mouth and closed her eyes, lowering long eyelashes that were still wet from angry tears and leaning comfortably into the other child's chest. She was usually such a sweet-tempered little thing that these occasional tantrums took him completely by surprise. To be perfectly honest, they scared him a bit, not because he was afraid of a three-year-old's temper, but more because he always felt so helpless to soothe her. It had been so fortunate that Andhun had come upon them when he did, armed with his gentle nature and his mother's wonderful lullaby. Squatting down beside the two children, Rochadan sighed and raised a hand to massage the lines of stress out of his forehead. So fortunate.

As the song came to an end again, Sallie opened her eyes and looked soberly up into Andhun's face. After a moment, she took her thumb out of her mouth and pointed at one of the boy's many burns with a little pink forefinger.

"You got a owie," she said gravely.

Andhun nodded. "Yes," he answered with equal solemnity. "I've got lots of owies."

"Do they hurt?"

Andhun nodded again. "Yes. Sometimes," he answered softly.

Rochadan tensed as Sallie's lower lip began to tremble. He could tell that she liked Andhun a great deal and was worried that she might, in her current frame of mind, become a little too empathetic to the poor boy's many "owies." He readied himself to sweep in and take control again if the tears returned, but then relaxed as Sallie pointed calmly to her shoe.

"I got a owie, too," she said to Andhun. "On my foot."

At a concerned glance from Andhun, Rochadan gave his head a brief shake. "No, she's fine," he interjected quietly. "She just has a little limp," he added. "She's always had it."

Andhun's lips formed a silent, "oh." He looked back down at the little girl. "I limp, too," he said simply. Sallie said nothing but smiled sweetly up at her new friend with an expression of angelic adulation.

Rochadan could tell that she was pleased to have her limp in common with the boy. Oddly, it seemed to ratchet Andhun up a few notches in her eyes. He smiled. It could turn out to be a very good thing for her to have Andhun around. He was just going to comment on it when the horse housed in the stall Andhun had chosen to lean up against arched his glossy neck over the top of the stall door and began to nuzzle the top of the boy's head. Startled, Andhun pulled away and looked nervously up at the animal. It was a beautiful dark brown gelding with a black face and mane.

Sallie giggled. "That's my papa's horse," she told Andhun. "Alybar."

"Alydar," corrected Rochadan. "Don't worry. He's a friendly fellow... just wanted to say hello." Looking up at Alydar, Rochadan noticed a stray bridle hanging from a nail just to side of the stall door. Out of habit, he rose and took it back to where it belonged in the small tack room just to the right of the front entrance to the stable. On his way back to the two children, however, he happened to glance down and notice a peculiar shadow under the door that led outside to the stableyard, or rather a lack of light there, as though someone or something had been placed against the outside of the door. Curious, he pulled the door open. To his surprise, a young woman toppled in nearly on top of his feet.

He looked down at her with an expression of bemused surprise. "Well, hello there," he greeted her pleasantly. "Is there anything in particular you were looking for?"

[Nurumaiel]

Earcwen had uttered a startled cry as she fell at the man's feet, and she stood, hay clinging to her hair and dress, and a look of complete bewilderment and confusion on her face. 'Goodness gracious!' she cried. 'Sir, I am so sorry to have fallen and caused what might be some inconvenience.' She cocked her head to one side and the look of distress on her face momentarily vanished as she smiled mischievously. 'I must admit, however, that I am even more sorry at having been caught in the act of eavesdropping.' She blushed then, and ducked her head, occupying herself with the task of pulling bits of hay from her skirt. She found herself quite at a loss of what to say, and so decided it would be wiser to say nothing.

Andhun had gotten to his feet, and he approached Earcwen, laughing slightly. 'Here,' he said, 'bend down and I'll take the hay out of your hair.' Earcwen obliged, and he began the task. Sallie became intrigued and was soon pulling hay with Andhun. At one point Earcwen felt a sudden, sharp pain in her head, but though she blinked she kept her mouth firmly closed, and soon Sallie giggled a bit sheepishly. 'Oops,' she said, 'that wasn't hay, that was a hair.' And she held up a strand of, yes indeed, hair. Earcwen felt mirth bubbling up inside of her, and she laughed and tickled the little girl. Then she stood patiently until Andhun stepped back, saying, 'There, I think we've finished.'

'Thank you kindly,' said Earcwen seriously, and then with another blush she looked up at Rochadan. 'I apologize, sir, for eavesdropping,' she said. 'I was intrigued by the singing, and I could not help but look when I found that little crack in the wood.' She paused, and glanced at Andhun. Her face worked, as if she were in a study as to what she should say, and at last she spoke, saying, 'What a charming little song you sang!' She decided that while a girl might enjoy being told she had a fine singing voice, it might not mean as much to a boy.

'I thank you,' said Andhun, his voice grave. 'My mother knew many beautiful songs, and that is only one of them.'

'Sing for me a favourite of yours,' said Earcwen. 'I enjoy hearing you sing very much.'

'Very well,' said Andhun, and he began to sing:

When I was young I had no sense
I bought a fiddle for eighteen pence
The only tune that I could play
Was Over the Hills and Very Far Away
So early in the morning,
so early in the morning,
so early in the morning, before the break of day.

The song was sweet, and had a childish air about it, immediately attractive to the ears of both Earcwen and Sallie, who smiled widely and applauded generously. And Sallie said, 'Again.'

'No, no!' said Andhun. 'I will song you another song, but I won't sing you that one. Listen, Sallie, to this song.' And he began another song, which was beautiful, and while the words expressed a longing the tune was full of peace, as if the one in the song were fairly sure that he would someday have what he wished, and full of happiness as the one reflected upon what he would do for his love.

Oh, I wish I had my Sally-o,
Sally-o, Sally-o.
Oh I wish I had my Sally-o
where the wild birds sing on the mountain.

Let the wind blow high, let the wind blow low,
I'd feel no cold from the frost or snow
if I only had my Sally-o
where the wild birds sing on the mountain.

Oh, I would gather flowers so sweet,
flowers so sweet, flowers so sweet,
and pile them round my Sally's feet
where the wild birds sing on the moutain.

Let the wind blow high, let the wind blow low,
I'd feel no cold from the frost or snow
if I only had my Sally-o
where the wild birds sing on the mountain.

Oh, I'd bring salmon from the stream,
from the stream, from the stream,
and berries fit for any queen
where the wild birds sing on the mountain.

Let the wind blow high, let the wind blow low,
I'd feel no cold from the frost or snow
if I only had my Sally-o
where the wild birds sing on the mountain.

Oh, we'd have music all the day,
all the day, all the day,
and peace that drives all cares away
where the wild birds sing on the mountain.

Let the wind blow high, let the wind blow low,
I'd feel no cold from the frost or snow
if I only had my Sally-o
where the wild birds sing on the mountain.

[Ealasaide]

Rochadan listened to Andhun's songs with a look of delight on his face. He had always loved music, but between the two of them, his wife Tristana had been the musical one. He remembered the way she used sing like a nightengale as she did the chores around their little cottage in the brief time they had been together. She had had a vast treasure trove of songs at her disposal that he had never bothered himself to learn. When she died, her songs died with her. Now, when Rochadan needed to sing to Sallie, he found himself having to construct songs from whole cloth off the top of his head. Unfortunately, they usually ended up fairly repetitive, nonsensical, and liberally sprinkled with hey-nonnies and ah-di-dahs. He was much better at stories.

As Andhun finshed his song, if only I had my Sally-o, where wild birds sing on the mountain, Sallie squealed with delight and clapped her hands. "Sally-o, Sally-o," she trilled, trying to sing the song herself, but getting the tune completely wrong. She reached out and clutched at Andhun's hand. "Again? Sing it again?"

Rochadan's smiled broadened as, this time, Andhun obliged the little girl and sang it again. With a twinkle in his eye, the stablemaster looked over at the eavesdropper, who had turned out to be a very bubbly and jolly young woman. Speaking softly, so as not to disturb the singing, he said, "What a way you have with children! But, knowing your love of music, I have to ask - will you be favoring us with a song of your own?"

[Esgallhugwen]

Thalinar blinked as the young girl responded that she was listening to the door, he was also amazed that one that lived, or so he presumed, in an Inn that she had never seen an Elf before.

But mayhaps no Elves wander into this Inn, he pondered to himself and took a seat on the chair, inviting the young girl to have a seat on the bed. "Do you know why Finian put you in this room?" Thalinar shook his head, uncertain of what she was getting at.

"It is because you look so sad and solemn all the time and because he has heard rumours of your kind leaving to the western lands. The east is a new beginning. The west is an ending."

The golden hair of the Elf glistened faintly as the sun passed its zenith, "the west is my ending, and the east is your beginning" he spoke with a pang of sadness. He looked back at her paying attention to every detail, every feature of her form.

He smiled weakly, "but please let us not discuss such times, it will be many many long years before I even begin to consider sailing away into the west, so until then I plan on enjoying the company of people such as yourself", Thalinar smiled more openly at her.

"And in enjoying such company I was wondering if you would care to tell me how you acquired the gift of being able to speak with things such as the floor boards and the door, and if you can speak with other like objects" he folded his hands in front of him and gave her an amusing quizical look.

[Imladris]

Ærosylle cocked her head and chewed her lip thoughtfully. "I didn't aquire the gift, sir elf. I have always had it. You have it too."

He frowned at her thoughtfully and said, "I do not understand."

She smiled at him, plopped herself onto the floor, crossed her legs, and said, "Sometimes they decide not to talk to you. Some time ago I made them angry and they decided to ignore me for quite a while. They only just started talking to me again. I have to be very careful to keep on their good side, or else they will stop again."

She swallowed and scratched her cheek. "It gets lonely without them."

The elf eased himself to the floor and asked, "But are you the only one who can hear them?"

She smiled softly at him, her blue eyes slightly glazed. "They speak to whom they choose. If they speak to you and you do not hear them, it is no fault of their own that you did not reply."