Darkwalker on Moonshae - Douglas Niles [43]
“But no more.” Daryth winked at him.
Robyn opened her mouth to go on, but felt suddenly that the bard wasn’t listening anymore. He stared idly at the ceiling, fingering the strings of his harp. Suddenly he stood, and smiled at her – a smile that lifted her spirits.
“We shall talk some more, soon,” he said, and turned to amble toward the hearth.
Gradually, the wailing of the pipes died away as the bard settled himself by the fire. His harp, a golden instrument of grace and beauty, lay in his hands like an object of love. As the room fell into silence, the bard began to strum the wondrous golden instrument.
The music floated through the hall like a magic spell, soothing and calming, bringing peace and contentment. After the raucous chords of the pipes and cymbals, the harp’s music was gentle, soft. It was a sound that the Ffolk of Corwell heard only rarely, so all were silent, eagerly anticipating the next notes.
For several minutes Keren played, without singing, and the frenzied mood mellowed easily into relaxed anticipation. When he knew that his audience was ready, the bard began his first ballad.
The Song of the Llewyrr was certainly one of the oldest songs of the Ffolk, yet its haunting beauty flowed freshly from Keren’s harp. His voice, strong and deep, caressed each word, and filled the refrains with haunting sadness. Through it all, each listener felt the real power of magic.
The song told of the Llewyrr before the coming of man. Long-lived, and peace-loving, the elves dwelt throughout the Moonshaes in complete harmony with the forces of the land. The first humans to arrive were welcomed and protected by the Llewyrr. Gradually, as the numbers of humans increased, the Llewyrr withdrew from their ancestral haunts. On many islands, they were known only through legend, the song said. But here, on Gwynneth, the Llewyrr retreated to Myrloch Vale, and there they lived, small in number, and shy, but possessing the same carefree spirit and harmonious sense of nature as they had since time immemorial. Humans saw them rarely but knew they were there.
Next, the bard played the Song of the North Wind, a harsh and jarring allegory of the sweeping winter wind that blew fiercely off the trackless sea. Cutting, freezing, and killing, the wind swept over the lands of the Ffolk. All who heard knew that the wind symbolized the coming of the northmen, who had rolled across much of the Isles of Moonshae with the same implacable force as the icy gale. The blood enemies of the Ffolk embarked on frequent raids against their more peaceful neighbors. Tristan knew that his father had joined campaigns against them, but none had occurred within the prince’s lifetime.
The bard then raised their spirits with the proud Ballad of Cymrych Hugh – the story of the greatest hero in the known history of the Ffolk. Bearing a silver sword that legends said had been given him by the goddess herself, Cymrych Hugh united all of the lands of the Ffolk under one rule for the first time in their history. He became the first of the High Kings, and his legendary battles with Firbolgs and northmen made for stirring verse.
Many stories were still told about the hero – the tale of his death in battle with some fearsome beast was one of the grand epic tales of the Ffolk. After that battle, his sword had disappeared mysteriously.
That mighty weapon, forged for the hero by dwarven metalsmiths, from steel forged by the goddess herself, was in itself worthy of heroic tales. Keren’s song devoted several verses to the story of the weapon’s creation.
Tristan idly dreamed about the sword, wondering what it looked like, what it felt like to wield. Arlen had told him of it many times, and listening to the song was like listening to a tale of an old friend.
Keren continued to play, lifting his audience with tales of hope and heroes, of unicorns, and the children of the goddess. Then he would bring his listeners to the point of despair with a tale of tragic love, or an ancient treasure long lost to the pillaging raiders of the north.
Finally, the