The Golden Perch Inn - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Valesse · 09-08-2006, 02:04 PM

Valesseka frowned to herself. There was a pair of elves not far from her, accompanied with an even smaller version of the short beings which filled this place, and though she could clearly hear Taffy and Carantilion speaking to one another, she could not hear a single note the other elf had played on his harp.

Trying not to be obvious about it, the Arnorian leaned in toward the trio. It had been a while since she had heard any decent music. There was very little to sing about on the road she had just travelled, and for most of the journey she lacked the spirit to consider it.

Suddenly noticing her thirst she abandoned her post and slid toward the counter and waited semi-patiently for a working to catch sight of her. Hopefully it wouldn't be a long wait. The elves looked about ready to preform and Valesseka did not want to miss a moment of it.

Lilly · 09-09-2006, 01:17 AM

. . . but you know our songs can sound very sad ...won't you mind that?

Taffy found the Elf’s voice quite bewitching, and he could not feature at first how such a lovely voice could deliver unhappy sounds. He craned his head to the right and looked up at the fair face. As lovely as the fellow’s voice was, the Elf’s features were even more delightful.

Except his eyes…

They were grey; the sort of grey as hovered over the river and the lakes near Taffy’s home. A sad sort of grey that for a moment made the young Hobbit feel as if he were in the presence of something very, very old.

The boy looked away. Sad or not, though, the words and tunes might be, Taffy thought, he had a longing to hear them.

‘Well, my Granpa sings sad songs, too, sometimes. Especially when the little forest near us turns from fall towards winter and the river gets a little crust of ice along its banks. We have a nice little fire in the fireplace and tell stories and Granpa gets down his little fiddle and sings . . . songs about things he remembers from way back.’

Taffy stepped back from Cir a ways, so that he could see the Elf without craning his neck. ‘Here’s one my Granpa sings and we all get real quiet when he does. He makes it sound so sad with his voice and his fiddle.’

He stood tall, as his Granpa said he should when he sang, and clasped his hand behind his back. The first few notes were hesitant as he tried to recall the tune, then his little boy’s voice rang out soft and pure.

Oh! Calm was the lake of Coolfin on that day,
When o'er its wide waters we glided along,
No cloud in the heavens o'er shadow'd our way,
And light hearted laughter was join'd in our song.

The wild winds of Winter now sweep o'er the lake,
The snowdrift lies deep on its desolate shore,
The roll of the thunder its echoes awake,
And summer time smiles on its bosom no more.

As bright is the sunshine of youth's early day,
As gay are the pleasures our life may begin;
In this world below they must soon pass away,
And be overcast as the lake of Coolfin....

The last note faded away and he looked expectantly toward the Elf.

‘Well, there you go. One of my Granpa’s sad songs. Your turn…’

piosenniel · 09-09-2006, 12:35 PM

Tanni leaned her cheek against the palm of her hand, her arm resting on the smooth top of the table. So wrapt in the song and the lad’s voice, she was unaware that her elbow rested in a small puddle of water earlier spilled from her mug.

‘Well done!’ she cried out, clapping her hands in delight as he finished his song. ‘Lovely, wasn’t it?’ she asked turning to Rhys.

He was silently fingering the tune on his fiddle, fixing the melody in such manner in his mind for later play. ‘We should ask him to go over the words with us later,’ Rhys replied. ‘Tis a lovely tune.’ He picked up his bow and put it to the strings. ‘Let’s do this one, eh?’ he he said nodding at Tanni.

She stood at his side and spoke loud enough to be heard above the clatter of mug and cutlery and the conversation. ‘Since it’s a sad song this lad has sung, my brother and I would like to add another. That is, if you don't mind. One we heard in our travels . . . one from along a lonely, rock strewn strand on the Great Sea . . .

~*~

By the storm-torn shoreline, a woman is standing,
The spray strung like jewels in her hair;
And the sea tore the rocks near that desolate landing,
As though it had known she stood there.

For she has come down to condemn that wild ocean,
For the murderous loss of her man;
His boat sailed out on Wednesday morning,
And it's feared she's gone down with all hands.

Oh, and white were the wave caps and wild was their parting,
So fierce is the warring of love;
But she prayed to the gods, both of men and of sailors,
Not to cast their cruel nets o'er her love.

Now she has come down to condemn that wild ocean,
For the murderous loss of her man;
His boat sailed out on Wednesday morning,
And it's feared she's gone down with all hands.

There's a school on the hill where the sons of dead fathers,
Are led toward tempests and gales;
Where their God-given wings are clipped close to their bodies,
And their eyes are bound 'round with ship's sails.

And she has come down to condemn that wild ocean,
For the murderous loss of her man;
His boat sailed out on Wednesday morning,
And it's feared she's gone down with all hands.

What force leads a man to a life filled with danger,
High on seas or a mile underground?
It's when need is his master and poverty's no stranger,
And there's no other work to be found.

But she has come down to condemn that wild ocean,
For the murderous loss of her man;
His boat sailed out on Wednesday morning,
And it's feared she's gone down with all hands.

Tam Lin · 09-09-2006, 10:56 PM

‘What about you?’ Hithadan asked. ‘What business brings you here?’ The man looked at him expectantly.

‘Shhhh!’ Tavaro put his finger to his lips and raised and eyebrow at his friend. ‘She has a lovely voice, don’t you think so?’ He steepled his fingers and rested his chin lightly on them. ‘It is an altogether different sort of sadness that the Secondborn bear, or so I think,’ he murmured, listening to melody as it underwove the singer’s words. ‘We Firstborn cannot know it, long as we might for the World as it once was.’ He gave his companion the briefest of half smiles. ‘There is no taste of death for us. We do not pass away from this world. The world passes away from us; fades . . .’

His gaze slid from the woman to the small boy. ‘Elven songs are lovely, I’ll give you that. But those of Men are bittersweet. And of late I find them much to my liking.’

Tavaro nodded to the woman and man as they finished their song. ‘I hope they will sing another. Do you think they might?’

Arry · 09-09-2006, 11:31 PM

Once the last song had ended, Will stood up from his table and excused himself from Prim. ‘I’ll just be a moment. I need to see Miz Cela about a little more willowbark tea. My hand is starting to hurt something fierce.’ He grinned at his companion. ‘Better make room for a mugful yourself. You know Cook will be wanting to give you a dose, too.’

--o--

‘Miz Cela?’ Will asked, poking his head through the kitchen door. ‘Are you there?’ The lights were turned low in the kitchen; the supper rush over. ‘It’s me - Will,’ he went on, stepping into the room.

Mithalwen · 09-10-2006, 01:11 PM

Carantilion was about to renege on his vow not to sing when Tanni and Rhys struck up their own song. Cir was fair minded enough to acknowledge they played and sang well enough but his finely formed aquiline nose was slightly put out of joint. If the mortals did not refrain from sad songs why should he and while Tanni and her brother received the applause of the gathering he hissed at his own sibling that they better do something before Dick decided they weren't worth their keep.

He touched the harp strings again and though it was a smaller and more rustic instrument than he was used to its chords now reverberated in the common room and pride overcame Carantilion's doubts about his voice in it's adult register. Its tenor suited the plangent melody perfectly and his accompaniment was swelled by harmonies provided by his sister.

O Gil-galad i Edhelchír
dim linnar i thelegain:
Im Belegaer a Hithaeglir
Aran ardh vethed vain a lain.

Gariel maegech Gil-galad,
Thôl palan-gennen, ann-vegil;
A giliath arnoediad
Tann thann dîn be genedril.

Dan io-anann os si gwannant
A mas, ú-bedir ithronath;
An gîl dîn na-dúath di-dhant,
vi Mordor, ennas caeda gwath

Translated by Ryszard Derdzinski

Forest Elf · 09-10-2006, 03:56 PM

"That sounds good, and you know me, I've always been on my own crazy adventures, though, some only in my head." Gable replied, scratching her head.

"Though, I should probably change out of my boy's clothes. I'll meet you two over there." Gable added, and headed up the stairs.

09-10-2006, 01:11 PM	#6
Mithalwen Pilgrim Soul Join Date: May 2004 Location: watching the wonga-wonga birds circle... Posts: 9,461	Carantilion was about to renege on his vow not to sing when Tanni and Rhys struck up their own song. Cir was fair minded enough to acknowledge they played and sang well enough but his finely formed aquiline nose was slightly put out of joint. If the mortals did not refrain from sad songs why should he and while Tanni and her brother received the applause of the gathering he hissed at his own sibling that they better do something before Dick decided they weren't worth their keep. He touched the harp strings again and though it was a smaller and more rustic instrument than he was used to its chords now reverberated in the common room and pride overcame Carantilion's doubts about his voice in it's adult register. Its tenor suited the plangent melody perfectly and his accompaniment was swelled by harmonies provided by his sister. O Gil-galad i Edhelchír dim linnar i thelegain: Im Belegaer a Hithaeglir Aran ardh vethed vain a lain. Gariel maegech Gil-galad, Thôl palan-gennen, ann-vegil; A giliath arnoediad Tann thann dîn be genedril. Dan io-anann os si gwannant A mas, ú-bedir ithronath; An gîl dîn na-dúath di-dhant, vi Mordor, ennas caeda gwath Translated by Ryszard Derdzinski Last edited by Mithalwen; 09-11-2006 at 09:54 AM.

09-08-2006, 02:04 PM	#1
Valesse Ghost Prince of Cardolan Join Date: Aug 2005 Location: \|Away Posts: 614	Valesseka frowned to herself. There was a pair of elves not far from her, accompanied with an even smaller version of the short beings which filled this place, and though she could clearly hear Taffy and Carantilion speaking to one another, she could not hear a single note the other elf had played on his harp. Trying not to be obvious about it, the Arnorian leaned in toward the trio. It had been a while since she had heard any decent music. There was very little to sing about on the road she had just travelled, and for most of the journey she lacked the spirit to consider it. Suddenly noticing her thirst she abandoned her post and slid toward the counter and waited semi-patiently for a working to catch sight of her. Hopefully it wouldn't be a long wait. The elves looked about ready to preform and Valesseka did not want to miss a moment of it.

09-09-2006, 01:17 AM	#2
Lilly Haunting Spirit Join Date: Oct 2005 Posts: 65	. . . but you know our songs can sound very sad ...won't you mind that? Taffy found the Elf’s voice quite bewitching, and he could not feature at first how such a lovely voice could deliver unhappy sounds. He craned his head to the right and looked up at the fair face. As lovely as the fellow’s voice was, the Elf’s features were even more delightful. Except his eyes… They were grey; the sort of grey as hovered over the river and the lakes near Taffy’s home. A sad sort of grey that for a moment made the young Hobbit feel as if he were in the presence of something very, very old. The boy looked away. Sad or not, though, the words and tunes might be, Taffy thought, he had a longing to hear them. ‘Well, my Granpa sings sad songs, too, sometimes. Especially when the little forest near us turns from fall towards winter and the river gets a little crust of ice along its banks. We have a nice little fire in the fireplace and tell stories and Granpa gets down his little fiddle and sings . . . songs about things he remembers from way back.’ Taffy stepped back from Cir a ways, so that he could see the Elf without craning his neck. ‘Here’s one my Granpa sings and we all get real quiet when he does. He makes it sound so sad with his voice and his fiddle.’ He stood tall, as his Granpa said he should when he sang, and clasped his hand behind his back. The first few notes were hesitant as he tried to recall the tune, then his little boy’s voice rang out soft and pure. Oh! Calm was the lake of Coolfin on that day, When o'er its wide waters we glided along, No cloud in the heavens o'er shadow'd our way, And light hearted laughter was join'd in our song. The wild winds of Winter now sweep o'er the lake, The snowdrift lies deep on its desolate shore, The roll of the thunder its echoes awake, And summer time smiles on its bosom no more. As bright is the sunshine of youth's early day, As gay are the pleasures our life may begin; In this world below they must soon pass away, And be overcast as the lake of Coolfin.... The last note faded away and he looked expectantly toward the Elf. ‘Well, there you go. One of my Granpa’s sad songs. Your turn…’

09-09-2006, 12:35 PM	#3
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Tanni leaned her cheek against the palm of her hand, her arm resting on the smooth top of the table. So wrapt in the song and the lad’s voice, she was unaware that her elbow rested in a small puddle of water earlier spilled from her mug. ‘Well done!’ she cried out, clapping her hands in delight as he finished his song. ‘Lovely, wasn’t it?’ she asked turning to Rhys. He was silently fingering the tune on his fiddle, fixing the melody in such manner in his mind for later play. ‘We should ask him to go over the words with us later,’ Rhys replied. ‘Tis a lovely tune.’ He picked up his bow and put it to the strings. ‘Let’s do this one, eh?’ he he said nodding at Tanni. She stood at his side and spoke loud enough to be heard above the clatter of mug and cutlery and the conversation. ‘Since it’s a sad song this lad has sung, my brother and I would like to add another. That is, if you don't mind. One we heard in our travels . . . one from along a lonely, rock strewn strand on the Great Sea . . . ~*~ By the storm-torn shoreline, a woman is standing, The spray strung like jewels in her hair; And the sea tore the rocks near that desolate landing, As though it had known she stood there. For she has come down to condemn that wild ocean, For the murderous loss of her man; His boat sailed out on Wednesday morning, And it's feared she's gone down with all hands. Oh, and white were the wave caps and wild was their parting, So fierce is the warring of love; But she prayed to the gods, both of men and of sailors, Not to cast their cruel nets o'er her love. Now she has come down to condemn that wild ocean, For the murderous loss of her man; His boat sailed out on Wednesday morning, And it's feared she's gone down with all hands. There's a school on the hill where the sons of dead fathers, Are led toward tempests and gales; Where their God-given wings are clipped close to their bodies, And their eyes are bound 'round with ship's sails. And she has come down to condemn that wild ocean, For the murderous loss of her man; His boat sailed out on Wednesday morning, And it's feared she's gone down with all hands. What force leads a man to a life filled with danger, High on seas or a mile underground? It's when need is his master and poverty's no stranger, And there's no other work to be found. But she has come down to condemn that wild ocean, For the murderous loss of her man; His boat sailed out on Wednesday morning, And it's feared she's gone down with all hands.

09-09-2006, 10:56 PM	#4
Tam Lin Pile O'Bones Join Date: Aug 2006 Location: ...the mirk and midnight hour Posts: 23	‘What about you?’ Hithadan asked. ‘What business brings you here?’ The man looked at him expectantly. ‘Shhhh!’ Tavaro put his finger to his lips and raised and eyebrow at his friend. ‘She has a lovely voice, don’t you think so?’ He steepled his fingers and rested his chin lightly on them. ‘It is an altogether different sort of sadness that the Secondborn bear, or so I think,’ he murmured, listening to melody as it underwove the singer’s words. ‘We Firstborn cannot know it, long as we might for the World as it once was.’ He gave his companion the briefest of half smiles. ‘There is no taste of death for us. We do not pass away from this world. The world passes away from us; fades . . .’ His gaze slid from the woman to the small boy. ‘Elven songs are lovely, I’ll give you that. But those of Men are bittersweet. And of late I find them much to my liking.’ Tavaro nodded to the woman and man as they finished their song. ‘I hope they will sing another. Do you think they might?’

09-09-2006, 11:31 PM	#5
Arry Ghost Prince of Cardolan Join Date: Jan 2004 Posts: 704	Once the last song had ended, Will stood up from his table and excused himself from Prim. ‘I’ll just be a moment. I need to see Miz Cela about a little more willowbark tea. My hand is starting to hurt something fierce.’ He grinned at his companion. ‘Better make room for a mugful yourself. You know Cook will be wanting to give you a dose, too.’ --o-- ‘Miz Cela?’ Will asked, poking his head through the kitchen door. ‘Are you there?’ The lights were turned low in the kitchen; the supper rush over. ‘It’s me - Will,’ he went on, stepping into the room.

09-10-2006, 03:56 PM	#7
Forest Elf Haunting Spirit Join Date: May 2006 Location: You say your hurting is over.. It feels like you're out of reach... Posts: 86	"That sounds good, and you know me, I've always been on my own crazy adventures, though, some only in my head." Gable replied, scratching her head. "Though, I should probably change out of my boy's clothes. I'll meet you two over there." Gable added, and headed up the stairs.